Chapter Eighteen
GRYFFINDOR VERSUS SLYTHERIN
As the fifth year Gryffindors poured into Professor Lupin's classroom the next day, the unusually pale coloring of the professor's face was an indicator of only one thing. Sure enough, Lupin approached the class timidly, and a guilty smile spread on his face as he collected their papers.
"Put your books away," said Lupin grimly. "We're to practice dueling today."
"Nice rhyme, Professor!" called Seamus from the row behind Harry. The rest of the class laughed nervously. Dean actually dropped his quill, and he kept glancing at Neville, his face contoured into silent terror.
"Thank you, Dean," said Lupin, pushing the desks against the walls with the wave of his wand. "Now, you know I don't like these days any more than you do. If I didn't have the respect for Dumbledore that I do, then I would forgo this teaching, but I trust his intentions. Put your bags to the side, and get with your partner. Now, today we're going to be-"
"Remus?"
The door had swung open so quietly that no one had noticed Professor McGonagall until she spoke. She looked extremely apologetic.
"We've had... a slight incident in Transfigurations, and I need to sort out a Mr. Grapplestone. Will you...?"
"Of course," said Lupin warmly, and a trail of Slytherins piled into the room. They were looking particularly surly, and Harry realized they were all sixth years when Marks ambled in and leered at Hermione. She stepped back, and Harry and Ron stood protectively at her side. Marks just laughed as the group piled into the classroom. McGonagall finished explaining the details of the incident to Lupin before leaving the room. A few of the Slytherins were still snickering over the matter.
"Well..." said Lupin slowly, and he clapped his hands together. "This is unexpected. Today's lesson is dueling, and it seems like a shame to just have you sit in the back for the next hour, and I was just going to go through it with you tomorrow. Yes, yes... get up, all of you. Find your partner and an empty place in the room. Today we're working on curses to hinder your opponent's performance..."
Lupin explained the four new curses to the combined class before teaching them. The first, the Expandia Curse, caused the wand hand of an opponent to swell uncontrollably, and it made it difficult for them to grasp their wand.
The older Slytherins already knew the second curse, which was the Visornus Curse. Lupin grinned at Harry as he explained that the curse, meant to impair one's vision, would not work on people who already had poor vision.
The laughter in the professor's eyes was apparent as he explained the Reveseretti Curse. The curse would knock a person from his feet and flip him onto his hands. Dueling would obviously be difficult in such a position.
The final curse, the Fridilion Curse, would freeze an opponent's feet to the floor. Harry had actually heard of it before, but he noticed Hermione muttering to herself under her breath, and he gulped. She must have heard him because she looked up at him innocently, but Harry knew full well that she already knew it. He shook his head; Hermione just continued to smile sweetly.
"You will be held accountable if you perform any spells, curses, or charms that cause severe injury. I will not grant you permission to visit Madam Pomfrey after class if you goof off during any part of the next half hour. I don't like taking off house points, but you will lose at least fifteen if you chose not to exercise common sense during today's duels," said Lupin seriously. "Face your partner. Even though you know my feelings on proper dueling procedure, practice them. Practice disarming, but also practice what we covered in class today. Do not resort to physical means if you do lose your wand-that means you, Daniels-and start on the count of three. One... Two... Three!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the Mark's partner, the Slytherin seeker, stumble on three, and he knew that Marks had started early. It didn't surprise Harry that he didn't have any compassion, even for his teammate and friend. Harry grinned at Hermione.
"Your wrist okay?" he asked, smiling at her.
"Don't you wish it wasn't?" asked Hermione, smiling serenely. "Ready?"
"Yep," said Harry. Next to them, Ron and Seamus had already started to duel. A burst of laughter from Ron and a glance at Seamus told him that his best friend had made good use of the Reveseretti Curse. Harry grinned as he bowed to Hermione. Might as well make things "equal."
"Visorni!" called Harry. Hermione was ready for him, a playful smile on her face.
"Revesia!" yelled Hermione, and Harry waited for the lift that would turn him onto his hands. Nothing came. Hermione looked perplexed, and she blinked a few times. She wasn't squinting at him intently, though, as Ron had at Professor Lupin as he'd demonstrated the curse.
"VISORNI!" shouted Harry, figuring he hadn't put enough force into it. It was hard to be serious about fighting your best friend. Hermione blinked again, and Harry's wand didn't even spark the second time.
Hermione was looking at him strangely. "REVESIA!" Nothing. "FRIDILIDI!"
"Er," said Harry uncertainly, pulling his wand back, "I think my wand's broken."
"Nonsense," said Hermione. "Wands don't break... well other than in half." Even so, she, too, was examining her wand closely. She gave it a skeptical glance and pointed it at a misplaced quill on the floor a few feet from Harry. "Accio!"
"It still works," observed Harry as the quill flew into her hand. She shrugged, examining it carefully.
"Maybe you should try yours," said Hermione, and she looked at Ron with a suggestive glance. Their redheaded friend was still laughing, watching as Seamus tried to pick himself up again. It seemed that Ron was getting very good at the Reveseretti Curse. Harry grinned slyly at Hermione.
"Revesia!" whispered Harry loudly. The laughter stopped, and Ron looked dumbfounded as his legs flew over his head. As he toppled over, he looked around suspiciously. He looked at Harry questionably, and Harry had to do his best to keep from laughing.
"Well, our wands still work," said Hermione slowly. She studied Harry intently. "Maybe it's the new spells."
"How can it be? It just worked on Ron!" said Harry, lowering his voice.
"I don't know," said Hermione. She wiped her hands gently on her robes, careful not to bend her wrist more than necessary. "Well, there's just one way to find out. Do you...?"
"Nope," said Harry, dropping his wand in his pocket and putting his hand up in surrender. Despite his confusion, he smiled cheerfully. "Hit me!"
Hermione giggled. "I'm very sorry about this," she said properly, "but... Petrificus Totalus!"
Harry expected to feel his body stiffen as he fell forward, but he didn't do either thing. Hermione looked more stunned than she had after being petrified during their second year.
"Why aren't the two of you dueling? Is it your hand and arm, Hermione?"
Hermione whirled around, but Harry could see Professor Lupin from where he was standing. He looked both exhausted and amused but also a little disappointed. He was studying them intently. Harry cleared his throat.
"It's not working," he said simply.
"What do you mean?" asked Lupin, curious. Harry shrugged.
"Just that," he responded. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.
"What Harry means, Professor," said Hermione, "is that our wands aren't functioning correctly. We can still do curses and charms, but not against each other..."
Harry cringed, and the look on Hermione's face made him realize that it sounded just absurd to her ears as it did his. Even Professor Lupin, who had, no doubt, seen odd circumstances in the past, was looking a bit bewildered.
"Is that so?" asked Lupin. "Try something."
"REVESIA!" called Hermione, before Harry could even withdraw his wand again. With Professor Lupin watching, he expected to be flipped on to his hands, but, once again, nothing happened. The professor looked amazed.
"And yet it works against others?" said Lupin curiously. Hermione nodded, dropping the quill she was still holding to the floor.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" she commanded, and it lifted into the air, hovering gracefully. She looked from the feather to Professor Lupin to Harry. Harry's attention shifted from her to the feather, and he summoned it. Now, Lupin looked shocked.
"Peculiar," he choked finally. "The core of your wands, what substance-wait, you've never had this problem before?"
"Never," said Hermione, and Harry shook his head vigorously. The look in the professor's eyes told Harry that he knew full well that the core of their wands weren't to blame. Finally, Lupin cleared his throat.
"Well," he said slowly, "there's little you can do if you can't duel properly. Mr. Marks, will you come over here? Hermione, would you please partner Mr. Simmons for the remainder of the hour?" Lupin lowered his voice as Marks strutted towards them, grinning fiercely. "Simmons has little talent for dueling, and despite my many forewarnings, Marks refuses to show any mercy."
Hermione nodded and crossed the classroom quickly. It dawned on Harry that Marks had, indeed, found his wand, and the thought disappointed Harry thoroughly. The older Slytherin looked rather sinister.
"Potter," sneered Marks. Professor Lupin gave him a warning look.
"Keep it civil, boys," said Lupin. He looked like he was about to say more, but on the other side of the room, Lavender had accidentally stupefied Sally-Ann, and he rushed over to restore her.
"Thought you'd done me in last night, did you, Potter?" Marks smirked. "I hate to break it to you, but you're about to... EXPANIUM!"
Without warning, Harry's hand began to swell, and he could no longer feel his wand in his hand. Quickly, he grabbed it with his other hand and hoped for the best.
"RICTUSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry, and Marks doubled over in pain as the jet hit him.
"FRIDILIDI!" wheezed Marks. He mangled the pronunciation, and instead of freezing Harry in place, he fell backwards. Harry's face broke into an uncharacteristic smirk.
"Visorni!" called Harry gleefully. Marks squinted, but he still righted him from Harry's earlier blow.
"SENDROVUS!" shouted Marks.
Harry felt a pain in both his chest and back as he was flung backwards into the desks behind with Mark's charm. He managed to keep his wand trained on Marks, even with his left hand. He managed to force another jet of painful silver light on Marks. Harry then had three pain charms put on him in quick succession. Marks had not paused in accordance to proper dueling rules.
Harry retaliated with a Reveseretti Curse and a charm identical to the one that had sent him into the desks. He was vaguely aware the rest of the class, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, had disarmed long before and were now watching him and Marks. For the next five minutes, the exchange continued, and Harry was starting to run out of fresh spells. Finally, he mustered his energy and hit Marks with a temporary stunner that he had learned in preparation for the Triwizard Tournament the year before. Marks stopped dead in his tracks, and for a second Harry thought he had won. He was too quick in his judgment.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" bellowed Marks, and Harry felt his wand fly out of his hand. He looked at Marks, stunned. The corners of his mouth had turned up into a smirk. Harry's stomach began to turn with anger, mostly at himself. Why hadn't he seen it coming? How could he have allowed Marks to win? Harry's fury began to concentrate, and the next thing that happened wiped the smirk off Marks's face.
With gunshot-like crack, Marks was lifted up off his feet. He flew backwards into the hard castle wall. He thudded heavily before sliding down to his ground.
No one moved, and no one talked. Harry's right hand returned to its normal size, and he felt his anger subsiding. Then, slowly, Seamus started clapping, and the rest of the Gryffindors followed with loud cheers. Ron clapped him on his back, and Hermione rushed over to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. A small smile even seemed to be dancing on Professor Lupin's face.
The bell rang, but nobody moved until a disgruntled Slytherin stamped his foot impatiently and lead his housemates out the door. Marks was still groaning on the floor, and Harry walked over to him as the rest of the Gryffindors started to exit the classroom. He plucked his wand from Marks's grasp.
"Good time?" questioned Harry jovially. Marks looked ready to strangle him.
"You just wait," he threatened, finally picking himself up off the floor. "You just wait until Saturday, Potter. You'll get yours then."
He strutted through the door, obviously trying to keep his pride. In the frame, he looked back, as if he wanted Harry to dare him. Professor Lupin cleared his throat loudly.
"Watch out," whispered Marks, so lowly that it was inaudible to everyone but Harry. "Watch your back, Potter, and watch the Mudblood's."
* * *
Ron and Hermione were still talking about the duel that evening after dinner. Ron was sputtering his amazement at the power his best friend had demonstrated that morning, all without a wand, and Harry's reaction had gone from a sheepish grin to an embarrassed smile. They ended up taking the long route toward the Gryffindor Tower, and it wasn't until they turned into the Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration corridor that Hermione swatted at Ron.
"You're embarrassing him, Ron!" she exclaimed, which only made Harry blush more furiously. He was about to mumble that it was okay when the sound of voices became apparent from halfway down the corridor. The trio shared curious glances; they were some of the last students to be heading toward their common room.
Hermione held a finger to her lips to quiet the boys, and they walked softly down the corridor. The unmistakable voices of Professors Snape and Lupin could be heard through the door of the Defense classroom.
"All my house can talk about is Potter brutally slamming Mr. Marks into that wall," hissed Snape, and he sounded much like the symbol of the house he headed. "I must say, that displeases me, Remus."
"Harry was simply defending himself," said Lupin. He was much calmer than Snape. "It was a duel, after-"
"I don't know what you and Dumbledore are heading," interrupted Snape, "with this dueling nonsense, but I don't like it one bit. I must admit, my suspicions are that you are just trying to give Potter even more undeserved glory."
"Marks would have won," said Lupin suddenly.
"Excuse me?"
"I even thought he had won, Severus," said Lupin, and his voice was as calm as ever. "He'd disarmed Harry."
"He'd disarmed..." Snape trailed off, letting the words sink in. He exploded. "That Potter! I should have known it would be him! What does he think he's buying into?"
"Harry's not buying into anything," said Lupin abruptly. "It's what he is, and you know that as well as I do. Unfocused magic of such caliber..."
"Oh, shut up!" snapped Snape, and he sounded very elementary. He seemed to realize this. "I still feel that the boy gets more glory that he deserves-"
"Harry isn't James." Lupin's words, as softly as they were spoken, had the impact he was obviously aiming for.
"Of course he isn't," said Snape. His sounded oddly displaced. "He's his son."
"You say that, but you draw no line to divide the two," said Lupin. "Severus, it's time you move on. Harry doesn't deserve the hatred you reserve for James-"
"POTTER DOESN'T DESERVE ANYTHING HE GETS!" bellowed Snape. "His fame and his recognition, he isn't worthy of any of it!"
"Stop living in the past, Severus," said Lupin quietly. Despite the harsh words, his tone was not at all rude. "Stop putting your memories of James into Harry. Stop taking your frustrations on him. He's just a boy, after all."
"Living in the past?" quipped Snape. "You have no right to tell me that."
"You don't have to listen to me," said Lupin. "I was merely suggesting-"
Snape snorted. "You were merely suggesting advice that you can't even take yourself. If I did apply my opinion of Potter to his son-and I don't-it wouldn't be anything compared to what you do. I'll tell you what, Remus, you come back to me when you stop mourning for her, and you tell me to stop living in the past. How does that sound?"
"Leave." Lupin's voice was cold.
"I thought we needed to talk," said Snape slyly.
"LEAVE!" roared Lupin.
"Don't get in a twist," said Snape, and his footsteps were very slow on the castle floor. Nevertheless, Harry, Ron, and Hermione started to walk swiftly again. "You act as if I said something that struck a nerve, Remus-"
"You," said Lupin forcefully, "you have no right in making me recall my memories of her. You have no right to speak of her, period. You have no-"
"Does it still hurt so much that you cannot call her by name?" said Snape. "Clara-"
"LEAVE!"
The three friends were startled by a blast from the classroom. A disheveled Potions master burst out the door a few seconds later, and he wore his usual curt expression. He frowned when he saw the three of them at the end of the hallway.
"Why, it's none other than my favorite Gryffindor students," said Snape sarcastically. He sharpened. "What do you think you're doing?"
"We're just going back to our-" started Hermione, but she was interrupted.
"Granger, you will have to learn some day that not all questions were meant for you to answer," said Snape, and he smirked. "I'm in a good mood today. Ten points apiece from Gryffindor for existing. Now get out of my sight!"
There was no arguing, and Harry and Ron and Hermione didn't even register their shock at having points taken until they were safely back in the Gryffindor Tower.
* * *
And it was Saturday at last. Five months after the original game was played, the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams took the field for the rematch. Based on the impending circumstances, the score of the previous game had been canceled, so the game was to be played almost as if the other had not happened. However, it was difficult to forget the events of that fateful afternoon, and both teams mounted their brooms with heavy memories playing on their intention to win.
It had been a long week, and tensions had been building between the rival houses on and off the Quidditch field. After Harry and Marks's duel in Professor Lupin's class, an even more intense pressure had been put on both teams to return with a win. Harry hadn't been this nervous for a Quidditch game since his very first. He looked over at Ron, who was staring straight ahead at Madam Hooch, pale and muttering a prayer of sorts under his breath.
"Relax a bit, if you can," whispered Harry. "You're not going to go anywhere this afternoon if you let your fear get in the way of your game."
"Wouldn't dream of it," muttered Ron, the sarcasm in his voice evident. Harry stifled a laugh, and Ron finally smiled. Madam Hooch whistled and raised her arms to get their attention.
"You all know the rules," she called, "and you all know how I feel about breaking them. This game will be played in accordance to every one of them. Mount your broom, if you haven't done so already. And-"
The sound of her whistle was the signal for the teams to take flight. Harry was halfway through his ascent to playing level when he realized that Marks was marking him. He stared at him, startled, and he realized at once that Marks's intention was to make it impossible for Harry to ever even find the Snitch. Sure enough, the Slytherin Seeker was keeping his distance.
"And they're off!" called Lee Jordan from the commentator's box. "Gryffindor Captain Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle and looks to make a repeat play of November's game. Not so easy this time. Slytherin Chaser Moon tries to cut her off, and Johnson passes to Gryffindor Chaser Weasley-Ron Weasley-and he's taking it to the... NO! NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! An actual block from Slytherin Keeper Flint, which is more than a bit of a surprise, but it's nothing sensible. Spinnet has the Quaffle now, and... SCORE FOR GRYFFINDOR!
"Slytherin in possession, but the Weasleys are on it..." Lee was saying, "and a Bludger from either direction causes Moon to drop the Quaffle! The youngest Weasley picks it up, and he's zipping toward the goal... TWENTY TO ZERO, GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry had taken to flying a few feet above the action to confuse Marks. His skills were great for a Beater, but he didn't have the agility that it took to be a Seeker. Harry took a sudden dive, and it was enough to get Marks off his tail for a few moments. He took a long look around for the Snitch and was pleased to see that the second Slytherin Beater had flagged Marks's attention and needed his assistance. Harry's stomach lurched a little when they started zooming together in Ron's direction, but Ron realized they were coming and dived down so quickly that the Bludgers plowed straight into one of Slytherin's own.
"And, entering the ninetieth minute of play time," said Lee a good amount of time later, "the score is nearly tied, sixty to fifty, Gryffindor. However, it doesn't look like it'll stay that way for long. Youngest Weasley, heading toward the goal for the umpteenth time-if he makes this one, it'll be his fifth of the game. Slytherin Keeper Flint is too busy keeping marking Spinnet to notice... oops! Probably shouldn't say that, but-SEVENTY TO FIFTY, GRYFFINDOR! Like I was saying, Flint was so sure that Weasley would pass to Spinnet that he didn't even bother covering him, so another goal to Gryffindor. Slytherin in possession..."
Harry gave Ron the thumbs up sign as he whizzed past him on Moon's trail. He'd dropped it four times already in the game, and Ron had recovered it three of those. Harry grinned in seeing Ron's strategy, and he almost got creamed with a Bludger. Marks laughed evilly as he flew by him, and Harry decided it was time to fly under the actual game play. Much to his disappointment, Marks dived straight down behind him, and...
"FOUL! THAT WAS A BLOODY FOUL! SURELY YOU COULD TELL THAT WAS A FOUL!" screamed Lee frantically. Professor McGonagall didn't bother stopping him. Like all the Gryffindors in the stands, she was on her feet, scanning the play and waiting for Madam Hooch's call.
In the air, Harry let go of his broom to clutch his side painfully. Marks flew around him in slow circles, chuckling. He had driven his own broom straight into Harry and tried to club him like he was a Bludger. Madam Hooch began blowing her whistle shrilly as she flew in from the sideline, waving her arm furiously. She gave a foul to Gryffindor immediately.
"How'd you like that, Potter?" whispered Marks smugly as he flew back down by him. He didn't even seem to care that he'd gotten a penalty for his team. Alicia kept glancing down to Harry to see if he was okay and nearly missed the shot.
"Well, that was a close one," said Lee angrily after she put it into the goal. "Most well deserved penalty shot I've ever seen. Slytherin Beater Marks flies straight into the Gryffindor Seeker. Merlin only knows what he was thinking, though thinking isn't a trait commonly associated with the Slytherin house..."
Harry stared angrily after Marks as he zipped back up into the game. Harry circled slowly for a few minutes, and he realized that Marks was done with him for a moment. Before long, he had the Slytherin Seeker on his tail, so he began he usually pattern of confusing dives and turns, ignoring the throbbing sensation in his side.
"One hundred twenty to one hundred twenty," Lee was saying mournfully. Harry looked in the direction of the stands as he flew past. The Gryffindors were starting to get edgy, and he didn't blame them. The rematch had just entered his fourth hour, and he'd only caught one glimpse of the Snitch in the entire four hours. Marks had seen it, too, and sent a Bludger down to him. When he swerved to avoid it, he'd lost sight of the golden ball.
"The score is tied," repeated Lee. "Gryffindor in possession. Chaser Spinnet is positively charging to the Slytherin end of the field... passes to Weasley... Spinnet has the Quaffle again... Flint blocks... Johnson takes the Quaffle... Flint's not fast enough... AND THE TIE IS BROKEN! TAKE THAT, YOU SLIMEY GITS!"
Harry heard Lee burst out loudly, and he smiled. Slytherin had been fouled five times, and it looked like they were about to be fouled again. The Slytherin Beaters had been flying some kind of odd cross pattern and were now charging directly at Ron from either direction. Harry was relieved when Ron picked up speed, in pursuit of Moon again, but Marks was persistent. Taking advantage of the Firebolt's superior speed, Harry raced over, dived between Ron and Marks, confusing Marks so much that he turned sharply and nearly lost control of his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.
He looped around lazily in the air, then dropped swiftly and popping back up to confuse the other Seeker. Harry cut across the field as the other players concentrated near the Gryffindor goal. Something gold caught his eyes, and he dived for it.
"What's this?" said Jordan in a hushed tone. "Has Potter seen the Snitch, or is he... just faking again, folks, I'll bet. Clever one, that Potter is. Of course, this angers Marks, who has a personal vendetta against the Gryffindor Seeker just `cause Potter is the better wizard of the two, but of course... Professor McGonagall would like to stress that the commentary is unbiased... Slytherin in possession..."
* * *
Harry had never thought he would get tired of Quidditch. Of course, that was before he played in his first ten-hour match. Lee Jordan had started losing his voice around dinnertime, and an even more biased Slytherin replaced him. Much to Snape's apparent displeasure, McGonagall had put a still very hoarse Lee back in an hour before.
The sky had started to darken with storm clouds right before they had darkened with night, and the stands had cleared for a while during dinner, but everyone had eventually returned. Even Dumbledore had come out to watch. With so much attention, Harry was starting to feel obligated to keep doing his best. It was growing more and more difficult though. Harry had stopped diving and rolling so often; instead, he just flew in complicated circles. He hadn't been able to see the Snitch when it was light, and he sure wasn't able to see it now.
"It's nine o'clock," said Lee, "and, though I wouldn't put a lot of money on it, I'm pretty sure that this is the longest Quidditch game in Hogwarts's history. Slytherin Chaser Moon going to the goal again-keep in mind that he's only scored once today-but Keeper Thomas blocks him cleanly. Chaser Weasley has the ball, but he's not flying as fast as he was in the beginning. Passes to Spinnet... and Gryffindor manages to score again! That's four hundred twenty to three hundred seventy, Gryffindor!"
Harry dodged another Bludger sent from Marks, taking one hand off his broom to cover his mouth as he yawned. It ended up being very beneficial. Twenty feet down and to his right, the golden Snitch glittered in the darkness. The harshly lit Quidditch pit gave it an eerie glow, but Harry knew it was the Snitch. He kept his eye on it, waiting for the Slytherin Seeker to look away, and he dived...
* * *
The Gryffindor Quidditch team had captured Harry into a group hug of sorts while still in the air. The Slytherin team was already on the ground before they even started to descend, all of them looking especially forlorn. All three Weasley brothers clapped Harry on the back, and George pumped a fist into the air and hollered in the direction of the grounded Slytherin team, "How did you like that? Not so hot, are you?"
"Bloody amazing, Harry," breathed Ron, and Dean was nodding vigorously. Fred broke away from the group and kissed Angelina, and Alicia looked like she was close to tears in her happiness. It wasn't until they almost to the ground that Harry could hear the cheers from the stands. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were both cheering wildly for the Gryffindors, and the house itself was pouring onto the field. The dark sky opened up the second Harry's feet touched the ground, but it only added to his excitement. It was almost like a sign that they game had ended right on time.
A mob of equally ecstatic Gryffindors their team in the pit, and no one seemed to care that the ground they were standing on was quickly turning to mud. Harry could see Hermione rushing toward them, and he broke away from the mob.
"You did it!" she screamed when she saw him, her brown eyes sparkling with happiness. "We didn't think you'd ever find it!"
"Yeah, well, neither did I," said Harry. "It-"
He didn't get a chance to finish because Hermione had thrown her arms around his neck. Harry didn't mind a bit, and he couldn't help but wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her around.
The field was so nosy with the Gryffindors celebrating rambunctiously that the two didn't notice Marks stamp his feet in the mud as he passed them. He was mumbling under his breath, and he shot Harry a murderous glare. He trudged off the field unhappily, the words "Potter" and "Mudblood" frequenting his mutterings.
* * *
On any given day, at any given hour, the Gryffindor common room was packed with students. It was rarely empty, even at the latest hours of the night. There was always someone doing something within the round walls, and that Saturday night in April was no exception. In fact, it exemplified the usual state of the room-on overload. The whole of Gryffindor was packed in the area, and Harry came to the realization that there were a few people in his house whose paths he hadn't crossed, even after five years at Hogwarts.
The house-elves had certainly risen to the occasion. Fred and George had sent a good number of fourth years down to the kitchen with news of the celebration, expecting a few snacks and what not. Half an hour after the Quidditch match had officially ended, a slightly apprehensive looking Ginny Weasley had led no fewer than a dozen elves into the common room. The array of food had been much more than a few snacks; instead, the elves had put together a true feast.
The conversion of the common room to a miniature dining hall was not the only thing that had happened while the house team showered and regrouped down in their locker room. They had no sooner climbed through the portrait hole than an ecstatic Lee Jordan accosted them. The results from the Quidditch match were in.
After ten hours and four minutes, the longest match in Hogwarts' history, Slytherin had gone down to Gryffindor, three hundred seventy to five hundred seventy. The point total was more than any other recorded Quidditch match. Ron had broken a house record for the number of individual goals in one game (a record previously held by none other than James Potter), and Dean's accuracy in blocking had increased by two hundred percent (though Harry wasn't sure if he trusted the mathematical skill of the second year that reported the statistic.) Gryffindor would be playing Ravenclaw next, and, unless Slytherin defeated both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw with a margin of three hundred, or Gryffindor lost to Ravenclaw by over three hundred, they would be winning the House Cup that year.
The breakdown of the match had served to give the exhausted Quidditch team a second energy and further elate the already exuberant Gryffindors. The food had quickly disappeared, and Lee had proceeded with a moment-by-moment dissertation of the match. When he had finished, the team itself was once again at the center of the commotion. Nearly everyone in the house had come up to each of the team members to express both thanks and congratulations, and one robust sixth year had clapped Ron so hard on the back that Hermione had to apply a healing charm to the immediate bruising.
Now, it was well after midnight, but it was apparent that the real celebration was only getting started, but for as lively as their housemates were acting, Harry and Ron were just as lethargic. Together, with Hermione, they had taken refuge on an overstuffed sofa that was barely meant for two. Ron was practically draped onto one of the arms, and Hermione might as well have been sitting on Harry. They, too, were talking about the game when Hermione suddenly looked startled.
"Don't look now," Hermione hissed, pointing discreetly across the room, "but the boy that nearly knocked off your shoulder, Ron, is heading back this way."
Ron paled as the boy, whose name was Eric Kahn, passed by. Harry also squirmed uncomfortably, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when Eric was out of sight. Ron shrugged again, peering over his shoulder at the blackened skin on his back.
"Say, Harry," said Ron, "I don't think that even the bruise Marks gave you compares with this."
"Probably not," said Harry, chuckling. "It's kind of sad that our own house is more dangerous than-"
"What did Marks do?" questioned Hermione, cutting in. Her eyes narrowed.
"Plowed into him," said Ron. "Don't tell me you didn't see that, and, if you didn't, Lee was cursing about it for a good five minutes."
"I saw it," said Hermione, and she turned to Harry. "You are okay, right?"
"I've gotten much worse than a bad bruise in a Quidditch match," reminded Harry. He shifted a little, which only proceeded in sandwiching Hermione tighter between him and Ron.
"I know," said Hermione quickly. "Oh no..."
"What now?" said Ron, looking around desperately. Hermione seemed to have a knack for noticing the more obnoxious or hazardous of well wishers.
"Colin Creevey," whispered Hermione grimly. Sure enough, the younger boy was waving frantically as he scampered toward them. "He's got the camera. I'd suggest you run, but I don't think you have enough time."
"Harry! Ron!" squeaked Colin. He nearly tripped in his excitement to get to them.
"You think he'd never want to touch that thing again after getting petrified," whispered Harry, shaking his head. Colin hadn't bothered any of them much for years, but it seemed as if he were back at it at the moment.
"I'm sorry for bothering you, but may I take your picture?" breathed Colin. "I promised, it's just this once. I want it for when I tell my dad all about your win today!"
"It's not like we're playing Quidditch right now, Colin," said Harry patiently. He tried to gesture his point across and only succeeded in hitting Ron in the back of the head.
"And I'm sure your father hasn't forgotten what we all look like," Ron couldn't help but adding. Colin didn't seem to notice the sarcasm in his voice.
"Just this one," repeated Colin excitedly. Ron groaned audibly, and the three friends struggled off the couch. "Oh, you can sit. I don't care if Hermione is in the picture, Harry, since she's your girlfriend... okay, smile!"
With a click, the picture had been taken, and Colin had, fortunately, gone on. Ron was staring at Harry and Hermione curiously as the aspiring photographer scurried away.
"You didn't correct him," blurted Ron.
"What?" questioned Harry, confused. Hermione, on the other hand, blushed deeply, but Harry didn't notice it.
"He called Hermione your girlfriend," said Ron, "and you didn't say anything."
"He did?" said Harry. He hadn't noticed.
"Should I add poor hearing next to poor eyesight on your list of ailments?" said Ron, slightly amused. It was Harry's turn to blush, and Hermione forced out a slightly strangled sound. Ron shook his head. "I didn't mean anything," he insisted innocently.
"What are we going to do tomorrow?" said Hermione, quickly changing the subject.
"I'm going to sleep late," said Ron automatically, "and I'm going to kill Harry if he tries to wake me up because you wanted to be in the library bright and early, so I'll have no choice but to turn you in for the murder. Sorry, Harry."
Hermione ignored him. "Going to the library wouldn't be a bad idea, you know," she said stubbornly. "We've only a month to complete our essays for Defense, and I haven't even began writing the exploration requirement!"
"I think Ron means," said Harry patiently, "that we do have a month."
"Of course," said Hermione briskly, "but we've also general O.W.L.s to prepare for and our daily coursework and classes to chose for next year. You did know that we get to choose new subjects or to keep the old ones, yes? Of course, that's something else entirely-back to this weekend. I was thinking that we should use at least part of the day for-"
"There you are!"
It was Fred. George was following close behind him, gingerly holding their radio out at arm's length. The contraption was known for its tendency to explode at regular intervals.
"Up," demanded Fred, raising his hands as if he were levitating something. "We're supposed to be celebrating, and I can't come up with any better way to do it."
"Than what?" questioned Ron, raising an eyebrow. Fred glared at him.
"Please," muttered Fred. He did not answer his younger brother's question; instead, he glared at him. "Now get up! We're clearing the floor, and you're in the way."
"Glad to help," muttered Ron as he stood. He yawned heavily, and George clapped his back. A shower of sparks erupted from the radio, and Ron jumped back.
"It's not time to sleep, not yet," said George cheerfully. "Not until we're done celebrating."
"And when will that be?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
"You can't be the first to leave," said Fred, talking around the question, "because we're all here thanks to you. Stick it out, and we'll tell you when you're allowed to go."
"Where do they get their energy?" asked Hermione as the twins bounded off to the front of the room. Lee was shooting haphazard spells in all directions to move the furniture to the walls. She stumbled into Harry as a side table went flying backwards and nearly pinned her to the wall. He caught her, and she smiled gratefully. "Did they not just play in the same match you did?"
"The same ten hour match," said Harry.
"The same grueling ten hour match," added Ron. "They're insane. I think Fred has some kind of fetish with dancing."
"Ah, don't be too hard on him," said Hermione, pointing at Ron's older brother. He had taken a step back as George worked on the radio, sweeping Angelina into his arms. Their laughter could be heard over the rest of the room's commotion. Ron made a retching sound as Fred kissed her. "They're getting pretty serious?"
"Serious?" snorted Ron. "The way George was telling it over Easter, Fred's had a crush on her since their first year, and Fred apparently isn't the only one to confide in him. Angelina's been coming to him since they started playing Quidditch together with questions about Fred. I can practically hear wedding bells already."
"Ooh," breathed Hermione, clapping her hands together. "It was ever so fascinating to hear Professor Binns talking about wedding traditions in the-"
"Professor Binns? Fascinating?" said Harry. "You're entitled to your own opinion, but Binns isn't exactly fascinating."
"He's just dry," said Ron. He shook his head. "Girls. Of course you would love that stuff, but it's my brother we're talking about. Can you really see Fred settling down?"
"Nope, can you?"
The three friends turned to see George standing behind them. He had a sheepish grin on his face, and he shoved his hands in the pockets of his robes.
"I really wasn't trying to listen in to your conversation," he said innocently, "but I just happened to. Anyway, the Wonder Couple sent me over here to get you over there."
"That makes a lot of sense," said Ron sarcastically.
"You're an edgy one tonight," observed George. "I won't tell if you sneak off to get some sleep, but you know he'll notice, and we have been working on a new exploding-well, it's top secret. You get the idea, surely."
"Why do you need us over there?" asked Hermione curiously.
"Hasn't it been explained to you?" Angelina's cheerful voice broke in.
"It hasn't been explained why all these random people have suddenly pushed their way over here and poked their way into our conversation," said Ron, trying to sound grumpy, but Angelina's smile was catching.
"I have a favor to ask of you," said Angelina guiltily. Harry was about to ask what it was, but she turned her attention to Ron. "Do you know my sister? My younger sister?"
"You have a sister?" said Ron.
"Must not," said Angelina with a smile. She waved her hand. "Her name is Ally; she's standing with all the third years on the opposite side of the fireplace, and she thinks you're simply adorable. I was wondering if you'd be willing to humor her and ask her to dance."
"She likes me?" squeaked Ron. His cheeks had surpassed the red of his hair.
"Don't act so shocked," said Angelina, and George nodded seriously.
"Who wouldn't want a Weasley?" sniggered George. Angelina rolled her eyes just as Fred appeared in the background, holding his hands up like ears behind her head. Angelina whirled around and glared at him.
"Who would?" muttered Angelina. She turned back to Ron. "If you don't feel comfortable doing it, you don't have to. I just thought I'd pass the information along to you."
"I would, but I don't dance," said Ron quickly.
"Nonsense," said George. "You danced at the Christmas Dance; you can dance now. Get!"
"Maybe-"
"Look," said Fred impatiently, "we're going to make you do it sometime tonight. Might as well ask Ally and get it over with. She's the short girl with dark hair in pigtails."
"He looks terrified," chuckled Harry as he watched his friend shuffle across the room.
"I wouldn't laugh," said Angelina sweetly, "because we're going to make you do the same."
"Whole Quidditch team has to dance," said George. "There's no getting around it. The rule has been made. Music is a joyful thing, Harry. Now get out there!"
"I don't dance," muttered Harry feebly.
"You do now," said Angelina, grabbing his arm rather forcefully. "And don't even try to tell me you that you're scared. I watched you take a seventy-foot nosedive and pull out in a right angle less than five feet from the ground. If that didn't scare you, this shouldn't."
"Dancing is bad," said Harry. The twins and Angelina laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught site of Dean. Alicia was obviously badgering him, and he looked even more unwilling than Harry. George gave his brother and Angelina a salute as he ambled in their direction.
"Come on, Harry," said Fred, grabbing his other arm.
"Why are you making me do this?" They did not answer, and Harry sighed. "I can't dance. I don't have anyone to-"
"Hermione?" offered Angelina, raising an eyebrow. She let go of him and patted his arm. "We'll be teaching the tango in five minutes. I suggest being ready."
Harry gulped as Fred and Angelina strolled off together. Hermione just covered her mouth as she giggled.
"Well," said Hermione, her laughter slowly, "when they put it like that... what are you so scared of, anyway?"
"I'm not really scared," said Harry. "I'm just tired. It is okay with you, right?"
"What? Oh! Yes, of course it is, Harry," said Hermione. She looked down, and Harry was almost positive he'd caught a blush rising to her cheeks. He forced the thought out of his head. She was talking softly; the noise level of the entire room had decreased. Most of their fellow Gryffindors were staring at Lee and Fred and George and Angelina and Alicia curiously. They seemed oblivious to the plans of the twins and the twins' friends.
"Sonorous!" said George, and he cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but we'd like to have your attention for a moment. First, we thank everyone that came out to watch the match today-"
"-Because nothing beats watching Slytherin get beaten to a pulp," Fred couldn't resist adding.
"Anyway, being from Dumbledore's school of thought and all," continued George, which got a bunch of cheers from his housemates, "we thought that a bit of music would make tonight even more fantastic than it already is."
George gave Lee a thumbs up, and Lee managed to turn the radio-contraption on with little more than a small shower of sparks. Loud music filled the common room, and Fred and Angelina had already broken into an exuberant dance. George and Alicia followed but at a slightly slower pace, and Lee had grabbed the hand of a seventh year girl at least a head taller than he. When the song changed, Fred began calling everyone to join them, and the house gradually moved to the center of the floor.
"I guess-" said Harry, and he shook his head. If he had to do this, he might as well do it right. He offered a hand to Hermione. "Would you like to dance?"
Hermione giggled as she stepped away to avoid being stepped on by Neville. Harry took her hand in his just as Fred and Angelina bounced by them.
"Now, there's this crazy thing we've been learning about called line dancing," Fred was yelling, "that you might remember from Christmas. If you'll just follow our instructions, you'll be doing it in no time-"
Angelina just pulled Harry forcefully into the group. Before long, only a handful of Gryffindors were still standing up against the common room walls. The rest were following Fred and George, laughing loudly and tripping over each other. Harry had a suspicion that a good deal of it was actually improvisation.
Keeping that into consideration, he and Hermione were having moderate success. Fred called for an elaborate turn, and Harry managed to spin Hermione as he was told. However, Neville was standing nearby, and Harry only happened to pull Hermione to him a few seconds before he came careening in their direction. They both burst out laughing as Neville picked himself off the floor, stuttering his apologies.
"Poor Neville," said Hermione sincerely as their round faced friend tripped again as he tried to exit the provisional dance floor. She cringed as Fred nearly trod on top of him. "He really does try so hard."
"He does," agreed Harry. "I like Neville."
"Oh, I do, too," said Hermione. She turned up to him, and he realized just how bright the sparkle in her eyes was that night. Harry couldn't help but grin at that. "For as crazy as this little celebration is, I think the twins might be onto something."
"This?" questioned Harry, grimacing as someone elbowed him in the side. "That's easy for you to say. You're good at this! And you claim to have no natural grace."
"I don't!" insisted Hermione, but her protest was weak. She blushed and smiled at the same time. "I also didn't spend ten hours on a broomstick today. Anyone would be tired after that!"
"It wasn't that bad," said Harry. "I'm glad you came to watch."
"Harry," said Hermione impatiently, "have I ever not come to watch one of your Quidditch matches? I love to watch."
"You've always been there," agreed Harry, "but we've never played for ten straight hours before."
"I had a great time," said Hermione firmly. "You're amazing, Harry. I'm trying to figure out what the team will do when we graduate."
"It's not just me," insisted Harry.
Hermione smiled knowingly. The music had stopped for a second, and Fred and Angelina, who were dancing next to them, scrambled to the front to see what had happened. Hermione's knowing smile quickly changed to a giggle as she noticed Ron trying to dance with a girl more than two heads shorter than him. He did not look very comfortable.
"What was it that you wanted to do tomorrow?" questioned Harry. Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but they were once again distracted. Fred clapped his hands loudly.
"Okay, we're having a few technical difficulties," admitted Fred. The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Lee gave the radio a forceful smack with the palm of his hand. He pulled away howling with pain, but the music had resumed play. However, it was not the energetic tune of early. Still, the slow song seemed fitting. "Well, that takes care of that! We'll resume our teaching when the real music comes back."
"Teaching?" snorted Harry. Then, he realized that a lot of people were returning to the sides of the common room, and he took a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to do. "Dance with me?"
"Aren't I already?" said Hermione softly, and her head rested easily on his shoulder. It didn't feel awkward to Harry when he drew her a little closer.
"So what about tomorrow?" prompted Harry softly.
"Tomorrow," repeated Hermione. "I've been wanting to look into some things all week, but I haven't had the time."
"What kind of things?" said Harry curiously.
"Well," said Hermione slowly, "I just have this feeling about the book we found on Tuesday night. I can't explain it, but I just know it has some kind of importance, and I want to know what that important is."
"Even if it isn't something major," amended Harry, "it'll be interesting."
"To me, it will be," said Hermione ruefully. She tilted her head up to look at him. "I'm sorry that I always drag you and Ron into my research projects. I'm sure they're not the most thrilling of adventures."
"Yeah, well, Ron and I always drag you along anytime we're doing something that will most likely get us into trouble," said Harry. His eyes sparkled down at her. "Nah, it's not bad, `Mione."
"You're just saying it to make me feel better," said Hermione playfully. The conversation was no longer about what to do the next day.
"I am not," insisted Harry, and a sly grin crossed his face. "Even though I'm curious as what you'd do if I was..."
"Wouldn't you like to know?" quipped Hermione. Harry felt something tighten in his stomach. What was he doing? He and Hermione didn't act like this. It was probably after one in the morning by now. His physical exhaustion and lack of sleep were probably starting to catch up to him.
"I-" Harry couldn't remember what he was going to say. The last chords of the song began to fade, and he immediately wished it not to be over. Almost as if responding to his wishes, the next song was very similar. He actually recognized it as an older song that his aunt Petunia had always hated.
Hermione's head rested against him again, and Harry's arms stayed around her. Some of the students, mostly first and second years, looked tired and began heading to their separate dormitories. Harry knew that a few of his friends had to be watching, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was feeling the same way he had months ago, at Christmas, the last time he and Hermione had danced. That song, too, faded, and another did not start.
"Well, I guess that's all," said Fred. He sounded a bit dejected. Slowly, groups of students started to head into their dormitories and respective rooms, many yawning tiredly. Harry reluctantly let Hermione go. She smiled at him, almost uncertainly.
"The library tomorrow?" asked Hermione softly, a smile on her face. Harry smiled back. He found his legs carrying him in the direction of the staircase leading up to the girls' dormitory. They stopped at the foot of the stairs, practically the only people left in the room. A few seventh years had furniture scooting from one side of the room to the other, and Harry could hear Ron helping Neville up from the floor after he had fallen again.
"Sounds like a plan to me," said Harry. He gave her a lopsided grin, and she pulled her hand from his. Harry blinked. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding it. Hermione stepped onto the first step, and she hesitated. She stepped back down, wrapping her arms around his neck. Harry hugged her gently.
"Sleep well, okay?" whispered Harry. He knew that she hadn't had the easiest week in regards to rest. His arms were still around her.
"I will," said Hermione. She started to pull away from him, and Harry reluctantly released her once more. "Thank you for everything, Harry," she said softly.
"For what?" questioned Harry. Hermione shook her head, and she laughed nervously.
"Never mind," said Hermione quickly. "It's really nothing."
"If you're sure," said Harry uncertainly.
"I'm sure," said Hermione. She looked up at him, almost guiltily. "Good night, Harry."
"Good night, Hermione," said Harry. He looked at his best friend for a few more seconds, and Hermione finally turned and headed quickly up the stairs. Harry exhaled slowly when the door to the dormitory shut behind her.
He hadn't even realized that he'd been holding his breath.
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