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Two weeks passed without any significant events. Harry remained static on the Master List, an embarrassingly easy victory over Neville Longbottom not really having any impact on upward migration. From time to time, he would catch Hermione Granger looking over at him but he steadfastly avoided her gaze. Ever since her subtle hint of her ability to accurately predict his spells, he had avoided all eye contact with her.

The first thought that came into his mind was Legilimency.

It was almost preposterous to think that a simple Third Year would be capable of having such advanced skill at the rare art. Raging hormones not withstanding, it was difficult for adult wizards to master the art of Legilimency and subsequently Occlumency. To suppose that Hermione Granger could do it was near ridiculous, but Harry couldn't afford to ignore the impossible. After researching the spell in what he assumed was the secrecy of the library, he had avoided eye contact with her with devout stubbornness.

After a while, and extensive research, he concluded that there was about as much chance of Hermione Granger knowing Legilimency as there was his parents miraculously being alive after being killed by Lord Voldemort. While he didn't actively avoid her gaze anymore, he still made an attempt to avoid long eye contact with her. There was a small voice in his head that told him he was avoiding eye contact with her for other reasons, but that voice was usually driven by tumultuous hormones. He mistrusted it greatly.

While there was no evidence to suspect foul play, Harry was sure that Hermione had gained some sort of advantage prior to their battle. After reviewing several of her previous dueling sessions, he found her technique lacking and most importantly, recognized an inability to think on her feet. It was somewhere in Second Year when she started dominating the competition, moving with an assuredness that impressed him. Even more damning was the fact that she had that same recognition of spells some time during that Second Year run.

As he watched Hermione dispatch Ernie MacMillan with relative ease during a replay of her torrid streak during Second Year, he realized that she could accurately predict his spells too. MacMillan had a tendency to shoot high, which Harry contributed to jumpy nerves, and Hermione must have realized the same thing because she would just duck to avoid his spells instead of bringing up a Protego. Yet, when his aim was true, she always produced the right combination of either dodging or procuring a shield to minimize her magical energy sap.

In short, she was ruthlessly efficient.

But how did she do it? That was the five hundred Galleon question and Harry suspected that not even Blaise could answer it.

"Why am I so pale?" Blaise asked as he flopped down on the green couch that Harry was also sitting in.

"Blaise, honestly? All the girls are jealous over your skin. The rest of us look so blotchy and sickly. People are going to start thinking we're Hufflepuffs." Tracey complained, examining her own rather pale arms.

"You're too pretty to be a Hufflepuff," Harry commented off-handedly, scribbling down his notes of a Hufflepuff match from 1984 for Trow's class.

A flush crept over Tracey's porcelain neck, but Harry missed it, too focused on Trow's assignment to notice. Tomorrow would mark the first day that they would rotate to classes with another House and seeing as how it was Ravenclaws, it would make Battle class a little different.

Gryffindors had a tendency to find ways to win but that was through sheer persistence more than anything else. Stubborn to a fault, they tended to try and bash their opponents over the head with one spell over and over. While Harry perceived the tactic as hopelessly naïve, it did have the added side-effect of perfecting a particular spell. Since most of the Gryffindors stuck to the tried high and true calling of heedlessly rushing into battle, all that was usually required was a bite of guile and remaining calm during their sound of fury.

Unless it was Hermione Granger of course.

Again, Harry marveled at how Ravenclaw she was because that's how Ravenclaws fought. While Gryffindors patented the art of reckless abandonment, Ravenclaws were patient and thorough, preferring to whittle their opponents down with an array of spells they had probably meticulously researched. To counter-act that, Harry had to aggressively attack them and prevent them from creating too much momentum. He used their greatest strength as their greatest weakness. The more Harry threw at them, the more likely it was that they would buckle. While their great minds were usually a help to them when it came to methodical research, they were also prone to over-think in the heat of the battle. Thus, that momentary lapse in thought allowed the opening Harry would need to strike.

Then there were the Hufflepuffs, a House that Harry found intriguingly interesting. Predictably, their most prevalent trait during Battle class was their honesty and earnest. While he had seen other Houses in replays resort to under handed tactics (a Gryffindor, of all Houses, cleverly threw sand in her opponent's faces when the setting was right), Hufflepuffs rarely sunk to that level. Instead, it was their refusal to give up that was their calling card. True, most Hufflepuffs weren't as talented when it came to raw magic as the other Houses, but their never-say-die attitude often led to strange victories.

The Battle that Harry watched from 1984 was versus Slytherin. The two Fourth Year Houses took on one another in a forest setting that included a hedge maze and a cluster of trees on each side of the hedge. The result was a House match that was often decided on split second instincts. Naturally, the Slytherins were more adept at setting traps and ensnaring the Hufflepuffs through subterfuge, but the Hufflepuffs caught on after several of their House mates had fallen to the nefarious traps.

They dug in and it was the Slytherins who had to wander through the hedge and the forests to find Hufflepuffs. Eventually they grew tired and impatient and Harry could only reason that it was their self-belief that they were better than the Hufflepuffs that got the better of them. They grew arrogant and started wandering out unguarded, thinking they could defeat the Hufflepuffs in open battle and that exposing their selves and covering more ground was the best way to defeat them. Of course, they lost as the Hufflepuffs literally dug themselves into the ground, camouflaging their bodies in such a way that the Slytherins could barely identify where the spells were coming from. Yes, the Slytherins were more skilled but it was their arrogance that once again lost the battle.

Do not underestimate Hufflepuff.

Harry underlined the note and looked up to see his two friends arguing about something inane again.

"Blaise, what part of Daphne wants nothing to do with you do you not get? She said it herself in the dorm. She thinks you're a pompous asshole that's just two head sizes shorter than Draco!" Tracey argued.

"Let it be known that that's the only area I'm two sizes shorter than Draco." Blaise waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and Tracey's face blanched.

Attack the Ravenclaw. Harry scribbled, only mildly paying attention to his two friends.

Trap the Gryffindor. That covered all three Houses, but there was one more House that he would have to plan against.

"Harry. Earth to Harry? Helloooooo." Blaise snapped his fingers in Harry's face and Harry brushed them off with a laugh.

"What?"

"Have you been listening at all? Do you think I have a chance with Daphne?"

"Wouldn't hurt to try." Harry shrugged.

"It would hurt actually. She's a known kicker and puncher," Tracey warned. Pivoting to Harry, she asked, "What's got you so lost in the clouds again, anyways? Don't tell me it's this Hufflepuff match that you keep thinking about."

Harry decided to answer her question with one of his own. "What's your greatest weakness?"

Tracey flustered, as Harry could always tell. She would still stare straight forward and deliver a response as if she wasn't caught off-guard, but he could always tell by the way she played with the ends of her curly hair and the fact that she blinked so much that her eyes looked like they were fluttering.

"What...what do you mean?"

"It's a rather simple question, Tracey. You do know the definition of weakness don't you?" Blaise mocked.

"Yes," she snapped. Tracey hated it when others tried to make her look vapid. "In terms of what?"

Harry shrugged again, interested with her open response. "Anything. Go on."

"I don't know. I guess I can be a little...pushy?"

"And how do you think that translates into duels?"

"Harry." Tracey and Blaise both groaned his name, realizing the intent behind his interrogation.

"No! No! Listen to me and think it out. How does your perceived pushiness pour over to your dueling skills?"

Tracey bit her lip and continued to twirl that curly strand of hair as she looked off into the distance, her bright, blue eyes shifting around in her eye sockets. "I think that sometimes I try the same thing over and over again even when it's not working."

"Very good. I noticed the same thing."

"You did?" Tracey was clearly surprised.

"Yes, of course. Neither of you are ever prepared enough by the way."

"I'm sorry I don't devote all of my time to sticking my head into those Stationaries and watching match after match like some obsessed goblin. Really, Harry, you're already that high on the Master List. How about you give some of us a break?"

"How about you try harder, Blaise? You and I both know you could do better if you just put some effort into it."

"I get by on raw skill. Any more and I won't have time to practice my other arts."

"And what other arts are that?"

"This art." Blaise stood up and proceeded to stalk Daphne Greengrass as she left the Slytherin Common Room.

"I hope he gets kicked in the balls again," Tracey crassly said.

"If he applied half as much effort into reviewing his dueling technique, he would be higher up the list too."

"Not everyone's as obsessed about it as you are, Harry."

"I'm not obsessed!"

"All you do is watch match after match. Duel after duel. How about you give it a rest and take a walk with me?" Tracey asked, her blue eyes holding a hint of pleading.

Harry did already have the necessary scrolls to submit to Trow, more than needed actually. The rest of his schedule looked to be pretty empty so he rolled up the parchment and stood up with a definitive grin. Extending a hand out to Tracey, he smiled and said, "Let's take a walk then."

She happily took his hand, her hand lingering ever so slightly as he let go, but Harry didn't seem to notice. As they left through the secret passageway behind the wall, neither of them noticed the pale gray eyes following them out.

The class with Trow proved to be a lambasting of everyone who didn't take the assignment seriously. Truth be told, more than a few Slytherins had done the minimal amount of work necessary when it came to analyzing a Hufflepuff match and Harry didn't doubt that the same few thought the Hufflepuff study was beneath them. Trow didn't seem to think so as his pale, blotchy skin filled up with a red hue as he aggressively asked question after question to the same few students. Draco, surprisingly, was not among them. He had written a report that was about half of Harry's size, but still well above the minimum threshold. Unfortunately, Blaise had predictably slacked off on the work and found himself in the midst of a battle of witty repartee with Trow.

"Why do you think the Hufflepuffs succeeded, Zabini?"

"They bored the Ravenclaws to submission?"

Needless to say, Trow was none too pleased and assigned them even more homework, this time ordering them to watch a Ravenclaw match. Draco complained loudly but like usual, he was all bark and no bite. They had that class with the Gryffindors and Harry had to ignore some snickers and jibes from the likes of Ron Weasley and the rest of his entourage. Harry also avoided eye contact with Hermione Granger again though he distinctly felt a pair of eyes watching him from the other side of the classroom where the Gryffindors sat.

As class was dismissed, Harry lingered behind to talk with Trow about the Ravenclaw match they had just watched, and to his surprise, Tracey stayed behind too. Trow was explaining the advantages of splitting the larger group up when the herd of Gryffindors walked by, jostling Harry as they did.

"So they split into half? Or half of a half?" Tracey asked about the movement.

"In some circles, they call that a quarter," Hermione Granger piped up as she walked by.

The Gryffindors guffawed at this and Tracey burned in embarrassment, opening her mouth to retort but finding nothing to say in front of Trow. Harry turned around to tell Granger to shove off, but she was already gone, her body cradling a stack of books as Weasley and his compatriots continued to laugh at Granger's snideness.

Not the nicest one, is she?

Tracey had some more choice words to say about the Gryffindor, Muggleborn champion as they continued to their next class and Harry could only nod along with her as Blaise repeated the joke under his breath and laughed at the same time.

"It's not funny!" Tracey cried as they turned the corner and avoided some Ravenclaws that "bumped" into Harry again.

"You have to admit that it is. Even if Granger has a stick up her ass, she got you good there, Trace," Blaise said.

"She's got a stick up her ass because she's insufferable and has no friends. And I knew it was a quarter!"

"Do you know what half of a quarter is?" Blaise teased.

"An eighth...." Tracey responded hesitantly.

It was true though. Granger rarely socialized with her other Gryffindors in the Great Hall and she certainly didn't go out of her way to talk with them when they were in class. Of course, that could just be contributed to her famously studious nature, but the only person he had seen to spend consistent time with her was that bumbling oaf, Neville Longbottom. If Merlin had ever cursed someone with just enough magic not to be a Squib, it was Longbottom.

"Why do you think she doesn't have any friends?"

"Well, she's ugly. She's a know-it-all. She always thinks she's right. She constantly puts down other people. She spends all of her free time studying. I think she might also be a lesbian." Tracey counted off the list of reasons one finger at a time, easily ripping off the insults.

A choked cry could be heard from behind them and they watched the subject in question rush off the other way, her bushy hair trailing behind her as she did.

Tracey blanched, looking torn between not caring and feeling regretful. "Well, I didn't really want her to hear all of that."

"At least you got her back pretty good." Blaise snickered as he continued to walk along.

Tracey shrugged, apparently over it and followed Blaise back to the Common Room for their free period. Harry paused in the hallway though, looking around the corner that Granger had ran around.

"Harry, come on!" Blaise called as he turned the corner, not waiting for them.

"I think I'm going to Trow's and watch some more matches," Harry said.

Tracey rolled her eyes at him and bid him good-bye as she caught up to Blaise. Waiting until they turned the corner and their footsteps were long gone, Harry followed Granger around the corner instead of making an about face for Trow's classroom. She wasn't in the immediate vicinity, but he kept walking until he heard a quiet whimpering. He was on the Third Floor and he immediately knew where she had gone for some reprieve. The girl's bathroom on this floor was often abandoned because it was the haunt of Moaning Myrtle and Granger must have concluded it was as good of place as any to have a good cry.

Harry paused but knocked on the door, wanting to make sure it was Granger and not some other simpering girl.

"I'm busy in here!" It was definitely Granger.

Not bothering to ask for permission, Harry pushed open the swinging door, coming face to face with the teary, red-faced Gryffindor girl. He didn't say anything for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets as he fidgeted with the urge to avoid her gaze.

She's not a Legilimens. Get over it!

"What?" She sniffled. "Come to tell me what a know-it-all I am?"

Instead of answering with words, Harry summoned a tissue from the inside breast pocket of his robes. He levitated it over to her so she had no choice but to take it and while she didn't look too happy, she still wiped away her tears with it.

"I'm sorry about Tracey. She can be a bit blunt sometimes," Harry offered as means for an apology.

"What does it matter to you? I didn't hear you disagreeing."

And in truth, Tracey was right on a couple counts. Granger was a known know-it-all and even now, she was putting him down. If her time spent in Trow's classroom was any indicator, she was even more studious about matches than himself, but Tracey was wrong on one count. Granger was very pretty in her own way.

Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry about that. If you want an apology, you can ask her, but I doubt you'll get one."

Granger snorted, blowing her nose into the wet tissue. "Then what are you doing here? Come to see the full effects?"

"I -" Harry paused, not really knowing why he had followed Granger. Part of it was because she had consumed his thoughts lately, but another part of it was to make sure that she was okay. After all, he knew what it felt like to be unfairly judged.

"Let's just say that I'm interested."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Interested in what?"

"What else?" He shrugged. "How you beat me. Obviously I can't ask you in front of everyone or else they're going to think I'm groveling for advice from you, but I have been thinking about it a lot."

She rolled her eyes again and Harry wondered if girls did that in the mirror to perfect the art of disapproval.

"You're not a...Legilimens, are you?" Harry hesitantly asked.

Granger snorted again. "Please, Potter. If I were, I'd be able to do more than beat you in a duel."

Well, at least that's a confirmation. Or she could be lying to me. But if she were, she would be able to hear this....Granger, can you hear this? And then he imagined Headmaster Snape naked.

When she didn't make any sort of visual recognition that she had read his thoughts, Harry was positive she wasn't a Legilimens. There was no way she couldn't react to the horrible image of a prancing, nude Snape.

"Potter, I'm not going to tell you. Now would you mind leaving me alone?" Granger turned away from him, apparently ending their already abrupt discussion.

Harry stuck his hands in his pocket, knowing his line of questioning was more to fill the gap than anything else. Still, he knew what it felt like to be ostracized and felt compelled to say, "They don't all hate you, you know. They're just jealous."

Hermione Granger turned around to address this accusation, but Harry was already long gone.

"Is he a Legilimens?" she whispered to herself.

Headmaster Snape was waiting for them outside the Room of Requirement, his hands behind his back and his expression as placid as always. Class was with the Ravenclaws for two weeks and Harry knew that they were generally the biggest challenge. If Snape was standing outside the Room of Requirement, then it was generally known it was a House Match. The thought excited Harry as they had just gone through individual duels for their two weeks with Gryffindors.

"Quiet." It was just one word, but it was spoken with such clarity that the usual chatter died down in a heartbeat.

"Today will mark your first day of inter-House matches. You are outside of the room today so neither of you gain a competitive advantage. Nonetheless, due to the unique setting of this particular match, one House will enter first. That will be decided on a coin flip. I require a representative of each House." Snape said all of this in one rapid fire breath.

Anthony Goldstein stepped forward for the Ravenclaw House, but the Slytherins remained static. They hesitantly looked around at each other, but it was Harry that finally stepped forward, ignoring the indignant scoff of Draco.

"Galleon, Sickle, or Knut?" Snape asked, one hand behind his back this time.

"Sickle," answered Anthony.

"Knut," Harry replied.

"It is a Sickle." Interestingly enough, Snape never showed the silver coin. "Ravenclaws enter first."

There was a small whoop from the Ravenclaw crowd while the Slytherins groaned. Everyone knew that the advantage of knowing the playing field first was key to defeating the other House.

"Good job, Potter." Malfoy sneered.

"Furthermore, you will enter in groups. Boot, take four of your members. Goldstein, take the other four."

They split into two halves and Snape let them into the room. There was no telling what sort of scenario Snape had envisioned. During a memorable House match against the Gryffindors in there First Year, Snape had placed them all in a giant room with walls that slowly enclosed them. More than one student found themselves with an accident in their pants during that exercise.

"Malfoy, take Zabini, Davis, and Goyle. Nott, take the rest. Except for you, Potter. You're going in alone."

Harry fumed. Of course I am.

He didn't exactly know what Snape was playing at, but he didn't like it. Tracey gave him a sympathetic glance as she slowly trotted off to join Malfoy and Blaise, but the rest of the Slytherins were looking at him oddly. What did Snape want to do by isolating Harry? If Snape thought he was doing something clever, he gave no indication of it as he turned his back and allowed Nott's group to enter the Room first. Malfoy, Tracey, Blaise, and Goyle followed soon thereafter.

Then, he was alone in the hallway with Snape. The headmaster's back was still turned to him so Harry was content with glaring at said back, wanting to know why the headmaster seemed to have a vendetta against him. Why did Snape go out of his way to make things hard for him?

"Why am I going in alone, Professor?" Harry dared to ask.

"You're setting records in terms of your placement in the Master List at your age, Mr. Potter. You must be held to different standards," Snape drawled. "Now, in."

Harry obediently walked into the Room of Requirement, still angry over his isolation. When the door closed behind him, Harry realized that Snape had handicapped him far more than he thought possible.

The fog was thick, impenetrable, and surrounded him at every angle.

He literally couldn't see two feet in front of him nor could he see any of his fellow Slytherins or the opposing Ravenclaws. In short, Harry was blind to the world and no degree of corrective lenses could solve this situation. Right away, Harry knew it was a manufactured fog because his glasses weren't fogging up like it usually would. Instinctively, he crouched, trying to make himself a smaller target for stray spells.

In the distance, he could hear voices and shouts but at least they were together and able to defend each other. Alone, Harry could do nothing but hopelessly wander around. For a second, he didn't move as he tried to gain his bearings. Though he couldn't see, he could still hear and the soft putter-patter of feet told him that there were people close by. Unfortunately, Harry didn't know if it was Tracey and Blaise walking by or Anthony Goldstein and his merry band of Ravenclaws.

Think! Snape wouldn't give us this challenge if there wasn't some catch. Fighting blind is hopeless.

So Harry started backing up, keeping his wand in front of him. He wanted to light a Lumos to see if he could pierce the fog, but doing so would be akin to waving a sign that said, "I'm over here!"

Instead, he slowly walked backwards, his wand in front of him and his left hand behind him in case he ran into anything. The first order of business would be to find out if there was a wall he could put his back to. If there was a wall, he could eliminate one avenue of attack and focus his efforts on everything in front of him. Yet, he knew that Snape could have easily made this an endless open space of fog. Still, there had to be some sort of catch.

Keeping his ears tuned, Harry could hear nothing but shapeless sounds bouncing back and forth through the fog. The dense cloud prevented him from even seeing shapes and shadows and it had the added effect of claustrophobia. It enclosed him at every angle, but Harry kept his breath calm and deep. It would be no use to fall into a panic over a simple setting.

"Did you hear that?" A disembodied voice floated through the fog with near proximity. Harry immediately fell to the ground, his belly flat against the flat, marble floor. The male voice was nearby, but Harry couldn't distinguish one voice from the other. It could just as easily have been Nott or Crabbe.

The murmur of voices was still close and left with no other choice, Harry started crawling towards the source of the sound. If they were Ravenclaws, Harry had the jump on them and could at least take a few of them out for his fellow Slytherins. If they were Slytherins, at least Harry wouldn't be alone in this fog of war anymore.

He crawled on elbows and knees, trying to make as little sound as possible. To avoid clatter, Harry kept his wand in his mouth, biting down hard to make sure it didn't fall. Whoever they were weren't moving and Harry could only hope he was approaching them with their backs turned. If they happened to be Ravenclaws, he would be crawling to his doom.

The voices were louder now but still indistinguishable. Harry surmised that he couldn't have been more than ten feet from them, but still, the fog was so thick that he couldn't even make out body shapes. All he could hear were their voices. He unfolded into a crouch, balancing on the balls of his feet so that he could move quickly if they were indeed Ravenclaws. Just as he was about to move the next couple of feet and identify the group, an enormous gong almost shattered his eardrums.

GONG!!!

At once, the fog lifted and Harry stared into the face of Anthony Goldstein and four other Ravenclaws. In that split second, Harry noticed how big of a nose Anthony had and how his thick eyebrows jumped in surprise and how his eyes flicked upwards towards the scar on Harry's forehead. The small millisecond of paralysis disappointed and Harry did the first thing that came to mind.

Harry punched him square in that big nose of his.

Though physical violence was normally an ineffective tactic, the close range quarters provided Harry with the quickest way to disorient Anthony. The Ravenclaws seemed too stunned to do anything as Harry quickly sprinted away. After a few seconds, they regained their senses and fired spells at the retreating Slytherin, but Harry had escaped too quickly, a skill honed by years of bullying by his cousin, Dudley Dursley.

A simple Protego would have blocked any of the spells had they been on target, but they were still in shock from Harry's aggressive move. Instinct had taken over Harry and while he certainly wasn't the biggest fellow, years of taking punches from Dudley and his friends had taught Harry some key weak spots that one should cover. The nose was definitely one of them and Anthony was lucky if his nose wasn't broken.

Just as quickly as it was lifted, the fog settled in again, obscuring any vision. Still, Harry's foray into the Ravenclaws had served its purpose as he could now identify them before than they could find him. They were moving in a group, a group that tended to make noise no matter how careful they were. Harry was by himself, a fact that seemed to help him more than he originally thought. The Goldstein group was quiet again, no doubt suspicious and aware of Harry's nearby location.

Having a minute to brainstorm, Harry realized that the fog would be lifted at the next gong. The Ravenclaws would reach this same conclusion just as quickly and would take preparations for any such attack. Thus, Harry couldn't risk an attack right away. At least, not an attack that would almost guarantee his knockout. A far better movement would be to pick them off one by one. The only problem was that there seemed to be no cover in sight. Even if Harry attempted to knock the Ravenclaws out one by one, they would clearly see him attacking them.

Where is the rest of my House?

The ruckus must have caused one of the three remaining groups to gravitate their way, so Harry pressed himself to the ground and listened again. Yet, the only thing he could hear was the rapid beating of his own heart. The Goldstein group wasn't making any more sound. If they had somehow gotten nearer, Harry would be plainly visible at the next gong when the fog lifted.

And sure enough, the gong came again.

GONG!!!

The spells came in a furious rush. With the fog lifted, Harry could see that the Ravenclaws had found a form of shelter. It was a shell that had square holes cut out of it. It resembled a pyramid and Anthony had somehow managed to get him and the rest of the Ravenclaws inside in a short amount of time. Again, Harry responded instinctively and curled into a tight ball.

When Dudley and his friends finally caught him, Harry learned it was best to curl into a ball to become a smaller target and protect vital body parts. That was how he felt as he curled into a ball and let the his Protego absorb as much of the spells as it could. Most of them sailed wide but his shield held as the fog retook the arena. Still, the Ravenclaws were smart and kept firing at where they thought Harry was. The murky air was alight with spells and Harry had to gingerly crawl along the ground to a safe area but not before a Cutting Curse nicked his temple.

A burst of pain followed by a dull trickle caused Harry to reach for his head, his hand slick with blood. He was no stranger to pain, a staple of these House matches, but something inside him ignited. Maybe it was being forced to curl into a ball, reminding him of all the times Dudley had kicked him in the ribs. Maybe it was his frustration with the fog. Maybe it was that damned Granger for beating him.

He stood up, his back ramrod straight and heard voices to his left.

"Malfoy, I think Harry is this way!"

"Hold still. Potter is going to get himself hit and then we'll take the Ravenclaws by surprise. They want to hit Potter so bad they'll never see us."

"But Malfoy, Harry needs our help."

"It's for the House. Don't forget that, Zabini."

Malfoy always thinks he's right. The plan formulated in his head, stark clear and half-mad. It was First Year all over again. But one thing kept hammering into his head and he couldn't get it out.

Attack the Ravenclaw.

"BLAISE, COLUMN TO THE LEFT!"

"ZABINI, IGNORE THAT COMMENT!"

"TRACEY, NOTT. COLUMN TO THE RIGHT!"

"IGNORE THAT!"

Harry took a running start, sure the Ravenclaws would be mightily confused with all of the yelling. He trusted Blaise and Tracey to take their positions and once he had done what needed to be done, they would easily be able to mop up the Ravenclaws. His feet padded against the flat, marble floor and the fog didn't even feel like a mist as it whipped against his face. He knew where the Ravenclaw shell was and he knew exactly how to disrupt them.

"FOR SLYTHERIN!!!"

His knees bent as he ran up the pyramid-like ramp. There was a hole at the very top and he already had a spell on his lips as he descended upon the middle of all the Ravenclaws.

GONG!!!

Harry didn't remember much of the moment. Raw instinct took over as he landed with a jolt amongst the Ravenclaws inside the quartered pyramid. Blaise though, saw the whole thing up close.

"We told Malfoy to fuck off and formed the columns like you said. We didn't really know what was happening but when the fog lifted, all we saw was you hurtling through the air! There was blood all over your glasses and you kind of looked like a maniac, but you landed on all the Ravenclaws and you took out three of them before they even had the sense of reason to try and get you. But they were so confused that they were hitting each other and it took a while until Padma Patil finally had the sense to take you out. By then, we had them all trapped and just shot at all of them. It was like shooting Flobberworms in a barrel."

Harry smiled when he heard the description, laying down in the hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around his head. He might have been the only Slytherin stunned, but he took solace in the fact that they still won.

A/N: Hope you like this chapter. It was one of my favorite ones to write. There were a few rewrites of this, but I settled on this one. Apologies about the delay, I want to have a few chapters written before I publish one and work's been a little busier than I thought it'd be. Thanks again for all the great reviews and comments. Let me know how you feel about the match.

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