Disclaimer : (brace yourself, this is longish, but I promise to only do it once) Anything and anyone in or around Hogwarts that you recognise belongs to JKR, long may she write. The concept of Zinstgi, or Zingsti, as well as a few characters have been taken out of Jane Jensen's poetic game Sins of The Fathers, the first in the Gabriel Knight series, published by Sierra ... visit The Underdogs at if you want to learn more about it and also to download a scan of the original game booklet (which tells more about Zinstgi) - I tried to put it up on my webpage but even the .zip was too large for my meagre webspace. However, concepts similar to Zinstgi abound in fantasy literature, from the Recognition of Elfquest, to the Eyra of Glenraven, to the Valin of Krynn, just to name a few, so I probably mixed it all a bit, I am afraid. I first saw (and liked, and borrowed) the concept of multiple PoV chapters in GRRM's A Game of Thrones, which would be a great book for you to pass the time till June, btw :). The quotes which appear at the beginning of each chapter are properly attributed whenever I knew an author. Oh, and the ones by a certain Ebenezum are taken from Craig Shaw Gardner's hilarious Ebenezum Trilogy. The concept of regio is pretty widespread as well, but the way it's used in this story is taken from the pen&paper game Ars Magica. In writing this story, there's no profit sought apart from amusing my twisted mind.

Gratitude and hugs go to Autumnmist, who's currently labouring to make this mess become more readable, to Susanna, who guided me when I started out in fanfic and showed me how to grow, to McAmy and Monique for their long mails full of tips and analysis, to Leila Jane, who had the admirable guts to tell me where 'my' Snape just plain sucked, to Sarge for her wonderful picture and of course Abby for letting me make my first steps in fanfic in her own backyard. Ladies, you are great beyond words.

A/N : When I posted an early vignette version of this last May as a timechallenge response, I was absolutely baffled when I received a couple of emails asking me if I were black. So I thought I'd better answer that beforehand this time : nah, I'm run-of-the-mill European. I just think it's an incredible waste of opportunity that Ms. Rowling created such a wonderfully multi-racial and ethnical school and then she never went and used it apart from giving the kids more variety in names.

Chapter One : Angelina

"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." - John Lennon

"And that's another goal for Gryffindooooor !"

Lee's voice boomed over the pitch as Katie scored her fifth goal, then shared a high-five with me and Alicia as we were taking up our formation again. The Slytherins did not stand a chance in hell. And they knew it.

Ah, what a day !

The three of us plus Fred and George were determined that, for our very last match at Hogwarts, we would give the crowd a show like they had never seen before. And so we did – the fact that we were playing against Slytherin was merely the icing on the cake. The weather was perfect this Saturday afternoon, and we were zooming around in the azure sky as if we were born to fly, the brooms merely extensions of our bodies like wings would be. I was so exhilarated by the speed, the joy and the camaraderie, I felt almost drunk. So, when Harry caught the Snitch, I was even a little sorry that we had such an expert Seeker.

Still, a score of 320:20 isn't something you see every day.

When Madame Hooch announced our victory and the final score, I triumphantly grinned over to the Slytherin stands, which were deliciously downcast. The Gryffindor stands, on the other hand, made enough noise for three houses at least.

We flew to the teacher's lounge in perfect formation to accept congratulations from a beaming Headmaster Dumbledore. There were two more matches to be played before the Cup was awarded –Ravenclaw against both Slytherin and Hufflepuff– but none of them had any realistic chances to get their hands on it. Not after this game.

When we arrived at the teacher's lounge, I allowed myself a quick, triumphant look at Professor Snape, Slytherin's Head of House and scourge of my Potions classes for five years – like every Gryffindor, I'd dropped the class like a hot potato after the O.W.L.s, two years ago. He looked distinctively unhappier than usual, which was saying something these days. Small wonder there – this would be the fourth year that Slytherin would go without the Cup.

He looked up just as we were about to stop our brooms, his gaze sweeping over us darkly. For the briefest of moments, our eyes met.

And in this moment, something ... opened. I could not describe it otherwise. But part of me that had been kept deep inside was suddenly free and rushing towards those eyes. And something was coming back and settling where the part I had lost had been. Something – not mine. His. Deep inside me.

In a sudden flare of panic, as I realised what must have happened, all I could do was clutch at my broomstick so as not to tumble down. When I dimly noticed the teachers scramble away as I continued my path towards the lounge without slowing down, I realised that simply holding on might be too little.

But then, I almost welcomed the darkness that washed over me when I crashed into the wooden stalls.

**********

"Miss Johnson ?"

I forced my eyes open with difficulty. Madame Pomfrey's anxious face was hovering over me, and slowly more details kept appearing. I seemed to be lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing – why would I be there ?

As she noticed I was awake, she sighed with relief and waved her wand over me, checking my readings. I was still groping for memories – what had happened ?

When I suddenly remembered, I wished I hadn't.

Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue, and said to me, "You are well recovered, my dear, from your little flying mishap – although there is something there that I don't quite understand. But never mind, you seem healthy, so it's probably nothing – if you have any more Inner Ear troubles or anything similar, please do come at once though, do you understand ?"

I nodded, trying to force a smile. Inner Ear troubles. Now didn't I wish those had been the cause.

She smiled back at me and said, "Then I'd better go and let your fan club in for a couple of minutes. You should spend the night in here, just in case, but if I don't let them see you I fear they will bring the infirmary door down."

Oh dear. For the first time in my life I felt like I'd rather curl up, alone, and hide. But I nodded again and tried to look joyful as my team and several others of my friends descended upon me with hugs, questions and well-wishes. Fortunately, they swallowed my explanation that I'd simply gone dizzy with the joy of the moment. Only Lee kept looking at me quizzically. Damn – his people are Jamaican, he might know ... But then, no reason to panic, I admonished myself – it would still be a far stretch for him to draw the right conclusion. So as to allay his suspicions, I pretended to thoroughly enjoy the impromptu game Fred and George had started, which involved taking Every Flavour Beans and popping them into one's mouth without looking.

I almost choked on the first one I took, which tasted of wormwood.

Never had I been so thankful for Madame Pomfrey shooing them out of the ward. I gladly let myself be taken over by drowsiness, hoping for a deep and dreamless sleep.

Except for that, of course, it would not come.

I tossed and turned on my hospital bed, half dreaming, half awake. Haunted by a pair of dark eyes. In my dream-state, I gazed into them, but they didn't frighten me as they had during five long years. Not at all. Their gaze seemed to caress me, touch me gently, bring something deep inside me to chime like a bell ...

I awoke with a gasp. My heart was pounding like mad, my sheets were clammy with sweat and I did not want to reflect too closely on the sticky heat between my legs.

I lay still, absentmindedly pushing my hair, wet with cold sweat, out of my face. No. It is only a myth, my mother said. Glorified falling-in-love. Your great-grandma is such an old romantic.

Tell you what, ma ? You were wrong. It is no myth, and it is neither love nor anything glorious. And not in the least romantic.

Cold moonlight streamed through the windows of the ward, illuminating the empty beds around me. I thought of my friends, my teammates, at this moment probably snoring happily, exhausted from both the game and the long party which I had undoubtedly missed. We had all done our very best to enjoy this, our last year of childhood, before we would venture out into a world that was growing darker again. Such a pack of Gryffindors, Alicia, Katie and I, and Lee, George and ... Fred. How on Earth am I going to face Fred now ? But after all, he was the one who had always insisted that our relationship was purely sexual; not that I had minded that part, though.

I felt lonely as I never had in my entire life. My family was a huge, loveable and totally crazy bunch of folks, and when I had first come to Hogwarts, I had missed them terribly. But my classmates had become my new family soon enough – after all, they too were loveable and totally crazy. And now my world had changed so much in one single, fleeting look that I was not sure how I could ever even begin to explain it to them, even to Lee. Or that I dared to, for starters. If it had been any other ... why, why him ? But I quickly shied away from thinking about him ... I knew that pretending would not make it go away, but I just could not bring myself to face it, yet.

As I lay back again on my cool pillow, I reflected on the bitter irony of the situation. When I had heard my great-grandmother's tales as a little girl, I had wished with all my heart that Zingsti would happen to me one day. It sounded so ... mystic and important. I had lain awake at night, dreaming that one day I would lock eyes with a dark, mysterious stranger, and it would come upon us.

And now my wish had come true, in a way. A saying of my grandfather came back unbidden. "Be always careful what you wish for, my little Angelina. It comes true more often than not, and your wishes can never again be taken back." I had never understood that before. But now I saw he had been perfectly right.

I lay awake until exhaustion finally claimed me again. But of course his dark eyes were there, beckoning me into strange and frightening dreams.

**********

When I woke up again in my hospital bed, the sun was shining brightly through the open window beside my bed. Madame Pomfrey came hurrying over when she saw me sitting up. "So good to see you awake, my dear," she said, fussing over me. "Nothing like a good, long sleep for healing, though. Do you feel well ? If so, you are allowed to get up – in fact, I have a message from the headmaster, asking you to see him in his office at your convenience, the password being Mozartkugeln." She looked at me questioningly.

I should have expected that, I guessed. I tried a harmless lie. "It is probably about the Quidditch match, maybe he wants to congratulate me since he had no chance to yesterday." She swallowed it, bless her. I dressed and made my way out of the infirmary towards Dumbledore's office, careful to avoid the few students who were inside on this beautiful Sunday morning.