2

Instinctive Magic

The clock had struck ten when Harry Potter left the headmaster's office. He wondered if the kids were asleep—not that ten was exactly past bedtime for them, especially for James. Harry grinned at the thought of James's reaction; the boy was at an age it wasn't particularly cool anymore to too close their parents, even, as James once complained, if that parent was the Harry Potter.

With the key to his room in his hands, Harry headed towards the staff quarters. As he headed down the stairs, he expertly hopped over a vanishing step and waited as the stair swung about to connect with another that led to the floor he wanted to get to. Several students were still about, most of them upperclassmen. They gave him curious looks as he passed, and he smiled courteously at them.

"Mr. Potter?" a familiar voice said a head of him. Harry saw Jill Shelser, the Gryffindor Prefect coming towards him with a welcoming grin. Harry knew of Jill from James's constant complaints about a bossy, straight-laced prefect that was his classmate and friend. He had met her for the first time in Diagon Alley trying to haggle with a saleswitch on the price of a used pewter cauldron.

"Hello Jill," Harry said, "You're on duty tonight?"

Jill nodded and asked, "You're here for the guest lectures, right?"

"Yeah, I am," Harry answered.

"That's wonderful!" asked Jill excitedly, "My brother once had you when you came to do guest lectures years ago and he said you were brilliant!"

Harry laughed. "Thanks, I try."

"Do you want me to get James for you? He's probably awake eating from his last candy haul from winning the night match against Hufflpuff today. Al is actually still up doing his History of Magic essay so he's on 'ignore everyone' mode. I think Theodosia Nott is around here somewhere if you want to get into the Slytherin Commons."

Harry shook his head. "I'm knackered. I'll see them in the morning. Thanks anyways."

"Alright, then, good night sir."

"You too Jill."

Harry continued towards the teachers' quarter, his mind often going back to the Hogwarts years. He mentally snorted at the faint feeling of nakedness he had walking the dimly lit halls at night without the invisibility cloak, and had an urge to sneak around like he once did. Old habits die hard.

As Harry came to the staircase that led up to his destination, he noticed someone coming climbing down it. He grinned broadly when he recognized the portly figure of Horace Slughorn, huffing a bit as he came down step by step. The years had not treated him well. He was rounder than ever and had developed a slight limp in his gait.

"Harry, m'boy, is that you?" Slughorn exclaimed when he saw Harry, "You made it!"

"I did," answered Harry, "How are you Professor?"

"Good, busy though. It's nearly OWL and NEWT time and I have a flood of last minute work with some students," Slughorn answered, "Sometimes, I feel as though it were yesterday that you were a student! I must say, your little Lily is quite talented potion student, just like her father and namesake, I suppose. Although your boy James's interest is somewhere else—" Harry mentally snorted at the memory of James, Al and Lily complaining to Harry about their force inclusion in the Slug Club. "—But Al shows some promise, all of them are quite bright of course…however, Harry, I must ask—" he swung his ham-like arms over Harry's shoulder; "You and I must talk about this Japanese Wizard business over some tea later. I've also got something to uh…give you that you might find interesting."

"Interesting?" Harry repeated, curiously. Harry, however, wondered if it wasn't just another of Slughorn's 'meetings'. "Sure, professor. Send me a message and we can arrange something."

Satisfied, Slughorn gave Harry a toothy grin and freed him. "Well then Harry, good night!" Harry returned a 'Good Night', and the two of them parted. Slughorn probably going back to the dungeons, and Harry up to his room, making a mental note to drop by Neville's room to greet him.

When Nat slept in the Gryffindors dormitory he was given the other bed in the Head Boy's room. George Deer, the current Gryffindor Head Boy, did not have a roommate. George was a busy person, rarely coming back to his room so Nat didn't see him much. Tonight was no different: George had night duty, so Nat had the room all to himself. He changed into his pajamas, and happily jumped onto the bed and let out a satisfied sigh. He could smell the fresh soap from himself.

"Hey, Nat!" the very familiar voice of James greeted him. Nat sat up in his bed as James came in, carrying several small, colorfully decorated boxes in his hands.

"James," Nat greeted him, "No sleep?"

"Will soon," answered James, sitting on the bed, "Chocolate Frogs! For a job well done in the game today! Next year Quidditch is gonna be awesome for us, mate." He offered Nat one of the little boxes. Nat's heart fluttered excitedly at the thought of next year. When he met Luna all those months ago, imagining a place for himself that far in the future felt impossible. Belonging had seemed like a foreign concept.

"Yeah!" He grabbed one and opened it.

"Careful," said James, "Don't let it get away."

"Get away?" He got his answer when the brown chocolate frog sprung to life and jumped out of the box onto Nat's face. He let out a yelp of surprise and quickly grabbed the live candy as it tried to jump off his face.

"Nice catch," said James, snickering at his surprise, "Ya really got some good reflex. Probably why you're great at Quidditch. Also, have you not had chocolate frogs before? I'm appalled. I've failed you as a friend."

Nat shook his head as he stared at the struggling frog, "Real frog?"

"Nah," said James, shaking his head, "Just enchanted." James opened his own box, quickly grabbed the frog and took a bite out of it, after which the enchantment seemed to disappear and the frog solidified into inanimate food. Nat stared at the frog for several seconds, mesmerized by the now-dead chocolate frog. There was a flicker of familiarity associated with the frog, but it was so transient Nat didn't quite comprehend it himself, but he did feel something that came with that familiarity—warmth, excitement, sadness and terror, all in that one flash of hazy memory.

"It's not that interesting," Jame's voice interrupted his trance, "Just chocolate with a charm. Could ask Flitwick to teach you that probably."

"Ah, no…" Nat mumbled, smiling sheepishly, "I like frogs and toads…"

James blinked. "To eat?"

Nat shook his head. "Friend."

"As pets?" asked James. Nat shrugged and bit into the struggling frog, which immediately deadened. There was something creepy about that to Nat, but he decided not to pursue the thought.

"What card did you get, Nat?" asked James. Nat glanced at him confusedly and looked down in the little box, and understood when he saw a card with a picture of an old man with really long, white beard. Nat picked it up and attempted to read the name, "Arl—Albus Dumbreldore."

"Oh, Albus Dumbledore," said James, "Yeah, he was the headmaster here when dad and mum attended Hogwarts."

"AH, I know him!" exclaimed Nat excitedly, "Hagrid say he great! Defeat one bad wizard and help Harry Potter beat other bad wizard."

James nodded, "That's right. Dad, mum, Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron, Grandpa and Grandma…they all go on how great he was…Al was named after him…"

"What you get?" asked Nat, looking up at James. The other boy held up his card for Nat to read, and blond attempted, "Herm…Her-Herm-mee…" Then he gave up. James laughed and read for him, "Hermione Granger."

Nat's eyes lit up at the name, "Friend of Harry Potter? Hagrid told me. She beat bad wizard too."

"Yup, everyone was a hero back then," sighed James, not without a hint of envy, "Hermione's my aunt, and Hugo's and Rose's mum. She's married to my uncle Ron who also have his own chocolate frog card. They all fought this really evil wizard Voldemort and his underlings. Professor Longbottom, dad, mom, Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron, Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Charlie, Uncle George, Uncle Fred who died that day, and…I can keep going on…you know that memorial in front courtyard?"

Nat nodded.

"Yeah, that's in memory of all who fought Voldemort here at Hogwarts…everyone's names on it."

Nat's eyes were now wide and glittering with excitement, "Cool. I wanna be hero too."

"Easier said than done," James mumbled sarcastically, "There isn't an evil wizard around to get rid of…and if I did something…it won't be as amazing as saving the whole wizarding world, will it?" James flicked the Hermione Granger card at him.

Nat shot him one of those full powered grin, the kind that utilized his whole face, teeth showing, cheeks puffed as far as they could go. "You be hero too, James," he said, "I believe in you!"

James was taken aback by the utter sincerity of Nat's words. Only Nat could say something that corny, in broken English, and still come off genuine and quite frankly, cool. "Heh, you're so odd sometimes," James said, smirking, "In a good way. But thanks, really. Anyways, the rest of the chocolates your share of the spoils." He set the candies on Nat's beside table. "I'm gonna sleep. Good luck with Dune and Katsumata tomorrow, Nat."

Nat nodded, "Night!"

James smiled, "Night."

Nat was left with the Albus Dumbledore and Hermione Granger beaming up at him. He returned a sunny smile, respectfully put the two heroes on his bedside table and curled into bed.

Harry hadn't even asked a question in his first class of 6th year Gryffindors and Ravenclaw when he saw a hand go up. It was 10 minutes into the class when a Ravenclaw girl who introduced herself as Ingrid Ackerley and requested, quite politely, "Please sir, if you can, I'd—we'd like to know more about the Japanese Hidden Continents."

He could feel the level of interest in the room spike. Harry sighed, with half a mind to tell the class off, as this was Defense against the Dark Arts, not Study of International Politics of the Magical World. He saw his son James give him a bored smirk.

"You should ask Professor Binns," said Harry, knowing full well why they wouldn't be asking the ghost teacher. Ingrid bravely persisted, "Well, since you are involved with the first contact in years, I thought perhaps you will know a bit more, sir. At least—more than just 'they are the xenophobic legendary faction of Japanese magical community'."

"Honestly, we don't know much ourselves," said Harry, sounding more exasperated than he'd like, "We have yet to meet them."

"But tell us how they contacted the ministry! I heard from mum that they sent several hawks but not just to the British Ministry!" a Gryffindor boy spoke up from the back.

"Yes, we weren't the only ministry to be contacted, and we won't be the only on there either in the meeting," Harry admitted, nodding his head.

"Is it true they call themselves shinobi?" asked Ingrid, "The Prophet said they did!"

"What're shinobi?" James asked.

"Ninjas!" Ingrid answered happily.

"You're joking," Leda Spinnet exclaimed, "Real ninjas?"

"What are ninjas?" a girl in the back asked.

"Assassins in black pajamas," James answered, boredly.

"They're a country of assassins in black jammies?" a Ravenclaw boy said, snickering.

"Jammies, really?" said James, snidely, "What are you, four, Robbins?"

"Alright guys, settle," said Harry, shooting James a chiding look.

Jill raised her hand and asked: "What do they want, exactly?"

"That's something I can't answer," Harry said with an apologetic smile, "Besides the fact it's still unclear to us, I don't want to say anything about it, really, Sorry, Jill, and Ingrid."

Jill nodded, but Ingrid looked a little disappointed, but she did the same. Harry made a final note about it, and continued the class about different defensive spells. At the end of the session, James came up to his famous father, and Harry readied himself for some teenage complaints: "Dad, you should have told me you were coming."

"You knew, James."

"Yeah, I did, but like a reminder would be nice."

"I'm not here to inspect your room, James. Just treat me like all your other professors."

"See ya down at the pitch," Gerry said to James, and left after a quick salute to Harry.

"So, did you enjoy my class?" Harry asked his son.

"It was good…" James answered slowly, "You're not bad, I guess."

"Well thanks, James, very encouraging. I think I did well considering I actually learned very little in these classes." It was baffling how many of the Defense professors wanted him dead in those days.

"How did you get your O.W.L.s if you didn't learn anything?" asked James, sounding skeptical.

"Well, I said I didn't learn anything in class, not I didn't learn anything at all," Harry explained patiently, chuckling as James rolled his eyes. "Well, off you go James. I have to prepare the next class. I have the second year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws next."

"So you'll have Lily," said James, swinging his bag over his shoulders, "She's actually excited about your class, dad. What are you doing for them?"

"Disarming spell," Harry answered, "It's a perfect time for them to learn it. You know I learned it when I was 12."

"And you also killed a basilisk," James added wryly, "Are you teaching them a class on that too? Or dragons? I'm sure Hagrid will be de—"

"James," Harry interrupted, shaking his head, "Don't you have Quidditch Practice?"

"Right right," James mumbled, grinning, "See you later Dad."

"Actually, James, wait!"

"Hm?"

"You're good friends with that boy, aren't you? Nat?"

James' face lit up. "Yeah, I am. Why'd ya ask?"

"I'm meeting Luna and the Headmaster to talk about him. I just wanted to know what you thought, that's all."

"Why you, dad?"

"The Headmaster thinks that I can help."

James frowned, looking thoughtful. "Nat is…well, he's really fun to be around. He's a little dense sometimes but he's a really good guy. Yesterday night, he jumped off his broom to save Demelza Doge! He wrapped himself around her and, dad, get this, he was going to break her fall with his own body. Who even thinks to do that, right? Only him!" James laughed, shaking his head. "Good thing Nott was there to make sure he didn't break his neck."

"He sounds reckless," said Harry.

James shrugged. "But he's a good bloke. He's definitely our new beater next year. Speaking of, dad, I gotta get to practice. See you later!"

"Have a good practice," said Harry, but James was already out the door.

Harry looked at the clock and let out a tired sigh. He had a little less than 20 minutes to take a breather before the next class, the time which he decided to use by taking a short nap. Short was an understatement, for he felt he barely dozed off when someone was shaking his shoulders. He couldn't believe it was time already.

Lily's girlish voice pierced his sleepiness with her excited, "Dad! Dad! Wake up!"

Harry obeyed and looked up into the smiling face of his daughter, who seemed flushed with excitement. He was surprised however, to see that the classroom was empty save for Lily and Nat. The blond stood besides Lily with a sunny smile.

"Lily," said Harry, pulling her into a hug, "Hello, darling. You're here a bit early aren't you?"

"It's only 5 minutes until class," Lily explained, shrugging out of his arms, "The others will be coming soon! Oh oh! Nat will be here with us! He usually gets private tutor and he's basically on a second year level, but I convinced him to come 'cause your class if going to be awesome."

Harry smiled at her. If there was one way to describe Lily, it was excitable. But most girls her age probably were the same.

When class started, the seats were filled with innocent eyed second year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Their unassuming and awed expressions were rather cute, but surprisingly intimidating. He began his lecture on the disarming spell, using several volunteers for demonstrations. After the oohs and ahhs, laughs and embarrassed giggles, he asked if anyone wanted to try it on him. The first hand up was Nat. He pulled the teenager in front of the class.

"You sure you can pronounce 'Expelliarmus'?" teased Harry, chuckling as the boy was still trying to wrap his tongue around the word.

"I try," Nat said, nodding his head resolutely. He cleared his throat, raised his wand and cried, "Experrliamus!"

A great red-orange jet of light erupted from the end of his hand, hitting Harry squarely in the chest and sending him crashing through the opposite wall and into the hallway. The force of the spell seemed to go both ways; Nat too was thrown backwards and smashed through the other wall. Unlike Harry, Nat did not have a hall for him to fall into because the wall opened to the outside, hundreds of feet above the ground. Nat's body continued to fall, making a perfectly arched trajectory as his blurred mass hurtled towards the lake and plunged into the water like a boulder.

"Nat!" some people screamed while others cried "Professor Potter! Sir!"

Harry, who laid eagle spread on the floor of the hall with the remnants of the wall all around him felt the stinging pain where he was hit in the chest. As he gingerly felt his wound, he had but one thought: that was not a disarming spell, not that it didn't disarm him.

He pushed himself upright, looking down at his chest through cracked glasses to see a trickle of blood showing through his shirt. He was slightly dizzy but thankfully it was clearing up, which meant he hadn't taken that bad of a blow to his head. His whole body ached like an overused punching bag, and he carefully articulated his arms and legs to check for any fractures, and decided after a few seconds he felt reasonably intact. He grabbed his wand, which lay on pile of broken bricks a few feet from him (thanking his luck it hadn't broken), pointed it at his glasses and muttered 'occulus repairo', and the world became one again.

"Dad!" Lily shrieked, rushing to his side, "Are you alright? You're bleeding!"

Before Harry could reassure his daughter that he was quite alright and that it was only a flesh wound, his daughter had already moved on: "Dad! It's Nat! He crashed through the other side and…and…he fell into the lake!"

"What?" Harry stood up quickly and jumped back into the classroom where he observed in horror that indeed there was hole in the wall opening to the grounds. Below in the lake, he could see the white foams and waves that suggested a recent disturbance to it. Harry, in all his years and experience with dangerous spells, could not think of any way a disarming spell could be performed so badly that it could send two good sized people crashing through stone walls in the way he just experienced.

"Lily, get the headmaster and the other professors. Everyone, get out of the class room! Come on, everyone, out!" He herded the students out of the class, although he did not have to put much effort into it. Beside a few students were still trying to get a good look at the hole, many were rushing out of the room and down to the great hall, spreading the news to others.

"Dad, what are you going to do about Nat?" asked Lily fearfully, "He…he could be…"

"Lily, just do what I tell you! Come on…Lily, go!" He gave his daughter a slight push out the room and watched as she ran down the hall in the direction of the staircases.

"Right," he muttered to himself, letting out a short sigh. Ignoring the slight pain from the wound on his chest, he ran down several flights of stairs, down to the entrance hall, pushing through the crowd of excited students, and onto the grounds. He stopped in front of the lake, looking around fervently as all the creatures of the lake flashedthrough his mind.

He considered casting a bubblehead charm on himself and jumping into the lake, and wished he had some gillyweed on hand right now. He could hear the students and some teachers making a crowd behind him. Professor Dune and Neville rushed to Harry, looking confused and alarmed.

"Harry!" Neville breathed, "What happened? The students are telling me a boy fell into the lake from your classroom!"

"Yeah," Harry replied, "Neville, I'm going in! He might be knocked out and I don't want him to become food for anything in there!" Before Harry could even mutter the spell for the bubblehead charm, before Neville could offer his help and Dune could stop him and tell him to wait for Veralong and the others, a hand burst out of the water. They all froze and watched as Nat's head popped out of the lake, looking irritated and complaining loudly in Japanese.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, marveling at the boy's luck as he seemed unharmed if his current noise level said anything. Harry, however, could not hold onto that sense of relief for long as he watched in amazement as the teenager climb onto the surface of the water as if it were solid. The next moment, through his moaning and cursing, Nat was standing on the surface of the lake, shaking his arms and leg in an attempt to dry himself.

"Harry Potter-sensei…" Nat said, smiling sheepishly, "Gomen, sensei…ah—no…sorry…I…not know what happened."

Harry merely stared at him, as did the others. Even in the magical world, climbing onto the surface of the water immediately after a falling from hundreds of feet was odd. It was Dune who broke the silent by coming forward and asking, "How are you doing that? Did you cast a floatation charm on your shoes…?" Or your entire body, thought Harry.

The boy looked confused and asked, "Charm? What?"

"That!" Dune said, pointing at Nat's feet, "Walking on water!"

Nat looked down in surprise, realized that he was indeed standing on top of the body of water he had swam out of, which, he knew for sure was really really deep. Upon this realization, he let out a little yelp of surprise, then immediately fell through the water with a loud splash. The crowd gasped as he did.

Neville and Harry rushed forward to help the boy out of the lake. Harry looked Nat over as they pulled him out, and, on his primary perusal, could not find a single wound or any sign of damage on him. Harry's eyes met Neville's, who seemed as surprised as he was when the boy jumped to his feet and tried to shake off the water like a do as though he hadn't crashed through a stone wall and fell hundreds of meters into the lake with a terrible force. Harry noticed he didn't have his wand and realized the boy couldn't have cast a flotation charm in the span of time he fell into the lake.

"Nat, take it easy," Neville said, "You just fell a long way, you might hurt yourself."

Nat looked at Neville, puzzled and exclaimed, "I feel…good. No hurt." He jumped up and down and waved his hand around to show how perfectly healthy he was. "See? But…harry Potter, you hurt." He pointed at Harry's chest, frowning at the patch of blood that was bleeding through. "My fault? I…very very sorry!"

"It's nothing," Harry muttered. He took hold of the boy's shoulder and looked hard at him, "You sure you're okay? That was a nasty backfire and a long fall."

"Yeah!" Nat exclaimed, "You hurt, not me."

"That's true, Harry," Neville said, "Let's get the both of you up to the hospital wing." Harry nodded. He took a hold of Nat's arms and pulled him gently along. Nat thankfully did not protest. As they headed towards the castle, he saw the headmaster and a handful of professors approach him. Harry caught sight of Lily and Al who came running to him, James behind them, looking thoroughly flustered.

"Dad!" Lily cried, "Nat! Is he okay? Are you okay?"

Nat grinned broadly, shivering from the water, and gave Lily a thumbs up.

"What happened?" asked Al, looking flushed and worried.

Harry waved a hand at them, "I'll tell you later. And I'm fine. So is Nat."

Lily didn't seem convinced, neither did Al. James frowned and demanded, "How is he okay? Didn't he fall from your classroom into the lake? Who's okay after something like that?"

"James," Harry warned, "I'll speak to you three later." The finality in his tone was familiar to the three Potters, and they knew better than to press their luck. They watched, along with the rest of the students, as Harry and Nat was ushered to the Hospital Wing.

Harry sat on a bed in the hospital wing, feel absolutely frazzled. Madame Pomfrey had healed him of all superficial wounds and forced a minty, bitter potion down his throat to relieve his battered body. Neville, Caleb Dune and Headmaster Veralong sat in chairs around him, waiting for Pomfrey to finish her examination of the boy, who was in the bed across the aisle from them. With the white curtain screens shielding them from view, the wizards couldn't see them but they could certainly hear them. Nat was an explosion of noise, complaining in a hilarious mix of broken English and Japanese as Madame Pomfrey shot back in equally vicious English.

"He's perfectly fine," Madame Pomfrey declared, as she appeared from behind the screen. Nat could be heard groaning and gagging behind the curtain, probably in the aftermath of some bitter medicines. Apparently, Pomfrey had won the battle. "Only a few bruises—nothing serious." Despite her conviction that the boy Nat was perfectly health, the expression on her face was of bewilderment. There was no way, in her professional opinion, the boy crashed through the stone wall of Hogwarts and fell hundreds of meters into the lake.

Harry, Neville, Dune and the headmaster answered her declaration with equally puzzled expressions.

"You must be joking," Dune said, shaking his head, "Did you know that he—"

"Yes I do, Caleb," Madame Pomfrey said, rather snappishly, "I do not joke about a student's health." Her patience had already been depleted from wrestling Nat into compliance. "And there really is nothing wrong with the boy. He is worn out, of course, but besides the bruises, there is nothing I would worry about."

"He was jumping up and down after he came out of the lake," Neville said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "But, how?"

"Incredibly lucky?" Veralong suggested, "After all, the boy has experienced some bad luck, especially with his amnesia, perhaps good luck—"

"Headmaster, you certainly don't think good luck defied all logic and prevented the boy from even breaking his nose after all of that, do you?" the Madame asked, pointedly.

"I'm kidding, Poppy!" The Headmaster chuckled. "Perhaps we should try talking to the boy, and perhaps…Harry?"

Harry, who was still going over what had happened in the classroom with the disarming spell, was not quite following the present conversation. He looked up at his name. "Uh, yes?"

"Just what spell were you teaching the children?" asked Veralong.

"Just the disarming spell," Harry muttered, " 'Expelliarmus'."

"He messed up the spell and it hit the both of you?" asked Neville.

Harry nodded.

"Do you have any idea how that could have happened?"

Harry shrugged. "He wasn't pronouncing it quite right. But it shouldn't have had a reaction that violent."

"Flitwick did say that Nat had an impressive reserve of magical energy," said Veralong, "There are people who are like that. They often overwhelm their own wands."

"That's more theoretical than not," said Harry, shaking his head. He had learned about the wand-wizard dichotomy, the wand-magic relationship, in his auror apprenticeship. It had been central to understanding how hard and how fast he could learn and use certain spells. Violent wand backlash were not uncommon. He just never expected something that violently powerful to come from a teenage boy casting a disarming spell. It wasn't just backlash, it was a non-specific explosion. Raw magic overcame the dictation of the incantation and just burst out. And it had hurt like hell.

"I think we should talk to Nat," Dune said, nodding, "And perhaps talk about that rather interesting feat of walking on water."

"Flotation charm?" asked Veralong.

"Unlikely," Harry said, remembering Nat's confusion when Dune had mentioned it, "He lost his wand, and someone who can't perform the disarming spell will have a harder time with a full body flotation charm. And he fell when he noticed he was standing on the water, which means it probably was involuntary."

"Instinctive magic," said Veralong, with a wise nod.

"That doesn't explain everything, though," said Dune, "He was able to use the surface of the water as if it were a solid surface. It takes more precise and practiced magic to be able to do so, and the spontaneous release of magic isn't exactly precise."

"Good point," Veralong agreed, "But not

always true, Caleb. It isn't too far fetched to think it is instinctive magic."

Harry nodded in agreement, remembering the feats he was capable of as a child with no knowledge of magic. "Let's just talk to him," said Harry. He looked up at Pomfrey, "Can we see him now?"

"Not now," the Madame said, "Like I said, he's perfectly fine. But I've given him something to make him sleep. Else he'd be running down the quidditch pitch by now. He'll be out until dinner."

Harry nodded. It was probably a good thing, as Harry would like nothing more than to rest as well.

Updated Author's Commentary:

I will admit, I make up 40% of this up as I go. The other 50% is planned, more or less. The last 10% is a result of me frantically trying to make the first 40% make sense.