Chapter 11: Whispers and Wind

Harry ascended the steps of the North Tower, the sound of each footfall magnified by the silence of the tower, echoing around him. A cold breeze filtered through the stone edifice, causing Harry to shiver, wrapping his cloak around him. The dampness of the walls and the dim light of the torches added to the heavy feeling of misery encompassing the tower.

Suddenly, the sound of a flute pierced through the silence, trilling softly in the darkness, its sweet sound like a lure, drawing Harry towards the top. First mysterious voices, then music, Harry thought, resting his weary legs for a moment before continuing. He was starting to feel like a victim of the Pied Piper.

Wood creaked as Harry threw open the trapdoor leading to the top. He gasped. The ceiling of the tower had been enchanted like the Great Hall to show the night sky, the stars moving as if real. A still basin of water had been placed on the middle of the room. Sweet-smelling incense filled the room, and the trilling melodies of the flute left Harry feeling calm and relaxed.

A lone woman, barely twenty-two, sat by one corner of the tower upon several silk cushions, eyes closed as she played her reed flute. Her brown hair hung down to her shoulder blades, and her petit frame was covered with a pure white robe. Her skin was frightfully pale, the colour of alabaster, giving her an alien quality to her appearance. She played for several minutes more, ignoring Harry entirely, the music soft and peaceful, compelling him to forget all troubles. Harry sat down patiently, fidgeting with nervousness.

Finally, the girl finished, setting her flute down. "Music doth soothes the savage beast, as they say," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Opening her eyes, Harry saw that they were yellow, glowing with unnatural light. "It seems that you have two beasts within you, Harry Potter. One potentially useful, the other harmful. Daelin was sent here to help you tame the first, to use its powers to assist others. I am here to help you remove the second. Do you know of what I speak?"

Harry thought for a moment, unnerved by her appearance. The first was the energies of Gryffindor. The second... "Voldemort. Yes, I understand you."

The girl smiled, her vivid yellow eyes focusing on Harry. "That is good. I am Avalon," she said, bowing before him. "And, no, I'm not sick. I paid a price for my abilities, Harry Potter, and this was the result." She gestured to her body, the cobalt skin, the yellow eyes.

Harry choked for a moment. "How did- I'm sorry if I offended you." She must have been looking through my mind.

"Just your surface thoughts," Avalon replied, causing Harry to gasp again. "They're the easiest to pick up."

"Ms. Avalon-"

"Just call me Avalon. I'll just call you Harry," she interjected, moving beside him. "Don't be nervous. You've worried about failing at this, correct?"

Faced with her intense gaze, Harry nodded in agreement. Avalon chuckled. "Don't be. Master Seros has taught me well. And I won't be invading your privacy either, unlike some teachers."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Avalon. Stormfury told me you were a Spirit Walker, whatever that is."

"You know of the Shadow Hunters, how they wield the powers of Elementalism. As a Spirit Walker, I have chosen a different path, one that examines the fates and destinies of mortals. A path that expands the boundaries of human mental abilities. The path of the Spirit Walker is paved with dreams and visions instead of fire and steel."

Harry looked at Avalon with greater respect. So, their society is almost like a caste system of some kind. "How many more groups of you guys are there?" he asked.

"Only a few, and they use Elementalism, like the Shadow Hunters. But no more of this. Come, we'd best get started."

The two sat down by the basin of water, Harry crossing his legs and assuming the lotus position. Avalon smiled in relief. "I see that Daelin has taught you how to mediate, good. Tell me, when you studied under Professor Snape, what did he tell you to do?"

"He just told me to empty my mind, then he cast a spell that probed it. That's it."

Avalon frowned. "And, afterwards, how did you feel?"

"Weak. I felt even worse afterwards. Weaker, instead of more powerful."

The Spirit Walker sighed in frustration. "Well, we certainly have a lot of work to do. When you prepare yourself for a mental attack successfully, you should feel empty, in a state of peacefulness. You should be able to defend yourself for a time against any invasive mental probes, and shore up your defences should the attack continue."

"Um, Avalon? I was wondering. My previous Occlumency tutor once said that the mind was made of many layers, so how can you see my thoughts?" Harry asked, mentally cursing himself for offending her.

"Not at all, Harry. Your last Occlumency teacher, while obviously not very skilled in the art, was right on that point. To a degree. The human mind is layered, true, but some layers are easier to access than others, surface thoughts mostly. The thoughts that are at the forefront of your mind."

As Harry knelt down beside the basin, Avalon closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated. A cup of water silently floated off of the floor and hovered over the basin, slowly tipping on an angle, until a single drop of water spilled out and landed inside. Every few seconds, another drop of water dripped out, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"Just concentrate on something constant as you meditate," Avalon said, her voice as soothing as the ocean breeze. "The sound of the water, your breathing, a mantra perhaps. Focus on that, and you will begin to force all other thoughts from your mind. Do you have a girlfriend, Harry?"

Harry was shocked by the forwardness of her question. "Yes. What does Cho have to do with anything?"

"You probably shouldn't try this around her, too easily distracted," Avalon answered, smiling slightly. "Now, let's give this a try. Concentrate on the sound of the water falling. Forget everything else. Just meditate."

Harry did so, listening to the occasional drop of water that fell into the basin, his eyes closed. The entirety of his mind became focused on the lightly falling drops. His breathing slowed, and all other thoughts were evacuated from his head.

Suddenly, he felt another presence, a stifling, enshrouding presence that snaked around him and wrapped around his mind like a heavy blanket. Harry gasped in shock, his concentration broken, his mental defences pierced in an instant, his entire life stripped bare for Avalon to see.

"Concentrate," Avalon said soothingly. "I won't look at your memories, just concentrate. Try it again."

Harry did, and was able to keep his mental shields up for a moment longer before Avalon brought them down, the presence of her mind braking through.

"Again, again," she whispered gently. "With practice, your endurance will increase, and you'll be able to resist for longer. Try again."

For the next two hours, Harry continued to practice his Occlumency techniques, Avalon testing him. While Snape had charged into Harry's mind with all the finesse of a crash of rhinos, Avalon was much more subtle, quietly slipping into it, giving little warning of her attacks. Thankfully for Harry, not once did she uproot his memories or taunt him the way Snape did. Instead, she helped him to achieve better results, and used subtle ploys to weaken his defences and keep him off guard.

Finally, Harry relented, his mind aching from the telepathic barrage. "I'm not feeling much improvement," he declared, letting his tense muscles slump.

"You will, Harry, you will. Before you go to bed each night, practice what I've taught you. Meet me here tomorrow night, alright?" she asked, getting him to his feet.

"Thank you, Avalon. The visions plagued me all last year, and I don't want anyone else to suffer because of them," Harry said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Avalon?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know how this is going to end?" Harry asked, his eyes full of worry "Stormfury said you found the Champions prophecy, and that you could see into the future skilfully. Tell me, what happens in the final battle? Will I beat Voldemort?"

Avalon was silent for a moment before responding, "Many events, Harry Potter, are hidden from the sight of mortals, unable to be seen even by the most powerful of seers. Your duel with Voldemort is one such event. It is a doom cloaked in shadow, a fate that not even the brightest light can illuminate, until it comes to pass. I cannot tell you, and even if I could, I would not."

Harry was aghast at her statement, his anger growing. "Even if it meant saving lives, Avalon? Even if it meant ending this war sooner? I am constantly surrounded by secrets, Spirit Walker! Tell me what you know!"

Avalon whirled on him, eyes blazing with unnatural light. "You will face him. That is all I know," she retorted, her voice a deadly quiet. "Do not presume that I know everything that will happen, Harry Potter. Here is what I do know. Sometimes, it is up to mortals to write their own destinies."

Her voice faltered, and she turned back to sit down. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry stood dumbfounded for a moment, then left the tower, frustrated by Avalon's apparent lack of cooperation and his inability to master Occlumency. Returning to his comfortable dorm, he begin to meditate, ignoring the questioning glances of his friends. Voldemort is not going to beat me! became his mantra, muttering it to himself as night fell.

The next morning, Harry awoke feeling refreshed and happy, his dreams free from nightmares. What Avalon taught me really must work! Quickly getting dressed, Harry walked down to the Great Hall with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. Hermione was already there, engrossed in her Transfiguration textbook, her food untouched. "Morning, 'Mione," Harry greeted, taking a seat beside her.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione replied, not taking her eyes from the pages. "How was your sleep? Any visions?"

Harry chuckled. "Nope, not a single one."

Hermione looked at him strangely. "You seem cheerful today. What happened? Any late-night snogging with Cho?"

"Nope," Harry responded, "but that would have been good too. I'm continuing Occlumency training."

Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh, Harry, that's great!" she said, giving him a tight hug. Releasing him, she asked, "Is Professor Snape giving you any trouble?"

Harry grinned from ear to ear. "Nope. It's a friend of Professor Stormfury, a Spirit Walker, she's called. Apparently, they're seers of some kind. She starting teaching me last night, and it was a lot easier than I expected. It was definitely easier than when I was doing it with Snape."

"That's great!" Hermione said. "I always thought that Snape was doing something wrong. If there's anything I can do to help, just ask, okay?"

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"Hello, everyone," Ron said, pulling up beside them, and wasting no time in starting breakfast, tearing through a waffle like a shark through a fat swimmer. "Guess what happened?" he asked, crumbs of food flying from his mouth.

Hermione sighed. "Ron?"

"Yes, 'Mione?"

"You're never going to get a girlfriend with those manners."

The entire Gryffindor table laughed uproariously, and Ron's ears burned red with embarrassment. "Thanks, mother," he replied sarcastically, continuing to eat.

"Mother? Mother?" Hermione shrieked, her voice indignant. "Are you saying I'm old, Ronald Weasley?"

Before Ron and Hermione could get into a full-fledged argument, Neville cut in, asking, "Hey, Harry, do you think you could teach us how to duel the way you did yesterday?"

Harry smiled. Good old Neville. "Maybe. I have a lot of stuff going on right now. I'm sure that Stormfury will be showing you guys a bit of sword-play before the end of the year."

"Really, Harry," Dean said, "that was amazing! It was like in some of the movies I have at my house. And Cho was great too. Did she study with you, or something?"

Harry didn't reply. Instead, he looked over to the Ravenclaw table, where Cho sat alone, shunned by her friends and House-mates. If she was concerned or bothered by this, she showed no sign, merely eating her breakfast by herself.

"Harry?" came Dean's voice, but he paid no attention. Instead, he went over to the Ravenclaw table, catching Cho's eye.

"Hello, Harry," she said, giving him a quick kiss. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Harry replied, ignoring the questioning glances of the Ravenclaws. "I was just wondering if you'd like to sit with me, keep each other company, you know."

Cho blushed. "Sure! I've always wondered what the Gryffindor table was like. They won't mind, will they?"

Harry shook his head. "No, you'll be fine."

Returning back to the Gryffindor table, Cho was quickly accepted by Harry's friends, who were eager to ask her about what happened during the summer, and how she and Harry were doing. Even Ron forgot his disagreement with Hermione to welcome her. Cho blushed at the attention, but stayed silent about her and Harry, merely telling them that they got together after training one night, leaving out anything involving the prophecies. She burst out giggling when Parvati asked her, "Is he a good kisser?"

"Shall we give you a demonstration?" Cho replied, much to the amusement of all.

"I'm willing!" Harry declared, prompting more laughter from the Gryffindors. For the next few minutes, they chatted amongst themselves, discussing their classes, their chances for the upcoming Quidditch season. Ron stood up, as if giving an important speech at a banquet. "As I was saying, before 'Mione interrupted me," he said, glaring at her for a moment, "I have some important news."

"What's up, Ron?" Neville asked.

Ron dropped the bomb. "McGonagall has made me Quidditch Captain."

Hermione shrieked in excitement. "Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry! Congratulations!"

"Way to go, Ron!" Harry said. "When did you find out?"

"Last night," replied Ron, "right after the feast. She told me that since neither you or Katie were willing to take the position, I was the only one left. You're not jealous, are you mate?"

Harry shook his head. "No, far from it. I couldn't handle the responsibility. Besides, you know all about history and tactics, Ron. I just find the Snitch."

Cho gave him a playful shove. "That's the most important part, Harry!" she declared, shaking her finger at him in mock anger. "Anyway, congratulations, Ron! If we have to lose again this year, thankfully it'll be to you, not Malfoy. But we sure don't plan to!"

Ron blushed at the compliment. "Thanks, Cho. Are you sure you don't want to give up now, save us the trouble of trouncing you later?" he asked.

Cho laughed at his good nature. "Trust me, Weasley, I've been practicing with one of the best Seekers in the country this summer. I think I have a shot at beating him," she declared, smiling at Harry.

"In your dreams, Cho!" Harry shouted.

"Most of them, yes," Cho replied. "The other ones involving you are a bit private, I won't be going into them here."

Laughter erupted from the Gryffindors at her joke, as Harry turned towards Cho, his face red with embarrassment. "Ms. Chang, I'm shocked!" he declared jokingly.

"What is this all about?" The voice cut through the merriment like a knife, and an uncomfortable silence hovered over the table. Turning around, Harry saw Ginny standing behind him, arms crossed over her chest, her face as red as her hair. She eyed Cho with obvious distrust. "What's she doing here?"

"We were just discussing Quidditch, Gin," Harry replied. "What's wrong?"

Quickly, Ginny shook her head and sat down. "Nothing," she answered, helping herself to breakfast, avoiding Harry's gaze.

Harry turned back to Ron. "Anyway, when's the tryouts?"

"This Sunday. Our game against Slytherin is two weeks after." Ron sighed in discontentment. "Hopefully, we can rake up some good players before then. Kirke and Slope said they don't want to play Quidditch anymore, so we're down our two Beaters. Ginny says she'll play Chaser, so there's just one Chaser spot left open. I don't really know how we're going to get the team together, mate."

"Don't worry, Ron, I'm sure you'll do fine," Cho assured him. "I can help you with tactics, if you like. Hey, since you're a Cannons fan, you might need a bit."

"The Tornados fan is willing to help out the Cannons fan?" Dean asked. "Not something you see everyday."

Ron ignored him. "Your Captain wouldn't mind?" he asked Cho.

Cho smiled. "No, I'm fine with it."

Harry and Ron did a quick double-take at the statement. Cho giggled, seeing surprise written all over their faces. "What, you think that a woman can't Captain a Quidditch team?" she asked mockingly.

Harry closed his mouth, remembering Angelina Johnson. "No, ma'am!"

The muggy summer air hung heavily over the compound, uncomfortable both for the Auror guards and the occupants of the house. Night had fallen over this place and the scent of flowers wafted up from the gardens, carefully tended and maintained by gangs of house-elves. But there was another stench in the air. Death.

For death had come to claim this place.

Dressed in her usual leather outfit, Isolde von Albrecht surveyed the compound, her unnatural senses picking up every detail. Beside her, Asmodeus signalled the strike team of Nagarythe assassins into position, readying a pair of long knives from his belt. Isolde turned to the First Death Eater, flicking her brown tresses. "How much longer do we have to wait?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Not much longer, my Lady," Asmodeus replied, looking through the seeing stone and pointing towards the guardhouse. With her incredibly sharp night-vision, Isolde saw the two guards within go down, barbed crossbow bolts piercing their throats and hearts. Asmodeus signalled the rest of the Nagarythe to move forward. Silently, the assassins ran forward, drawing knives and throwing stars, heading for the main building, the residence of their target. Clad in black robes and masks, the Nagarythe were brutal killers, skilled in hand-to-hand combat and stealth techniques, armed with a variety of weapons. Utterly devoted to the cause, they were Voldemort's elite unit, the harbingers of his endless wrath.

"What exactly is so important about this place?" Isolde asked, observing Asmodeus direct the attack. "It's just the home of a minor Ministry official."

"The artefacts within the house is more important than the people, my Lady," Asmodeus answered. "This minor Ministry official possesses two valuable talismans, weapons really, that will aid our cause greatly."

Isolde frowned. Ever since she had joined the Dark Lord, she had heard nothing but the importance of all these enchanted items that Voldemort wanted to possess. The Dark Lord was still obsessed with finding these Chaos Stones and forced his followers to work night and day on the digging, always searching for them. Now, he had sent the Nagarythe, along with herself and Asmodeus to find two more items. Fools. Once this war is over, I won't be needing to work with them anymore.

The vampire Lady was almost a thousand years old, and in that time, she had survived many threats to her and her power. At the age of twenty-one, she and her family were bitten by the vampires, a blessing in disguise as it was. Isolde, obsessed with physical perfection, dreaded becoming old and ugly like her mother. Infected by the vampire curse, she remained as beautiful and as young as when she was bitten. Her family, driven by the need to consume the blood of humans, carved out a kingdom for themselves within the Albanian foothills, feasting on the peasantry and expanding the ranks of the vampires. Soon, an entire army of them swore fealty to the Blood Ruby, an army that they sent across much of Eastern Europe, expanding the Kingdom of the Night. This army of vampires even fought small skirmishes with the Byzantine Empire, who had been weakened by their constant battles with the Turks.

All that changed when Rowena Ravenclaw arrived in the region. Wielding strange magicks and aided by a group of adventurers and the rebellious peasantry, the noble-born Founder stormed the castle of the von Albrechts and slew Isolde's family and much of their army, ending the Kingdom of the Night and forcing Isolde to flee for her life.

For the centuries after, Isolde lived in fear, hunting humans for substance, all the while being hunted herself, mostly by the Ministry of Magic or the Church in Rome. She used her seductive wiles to her advantage, luring her victims into fatal traps. She found it easy, almost enjoyable, to prey upon and exploit the lusts and emotions of humans. She dreamed of one day enslaving all vampires and rebuilding the Kingdom of the Night. The Blood Ruby would rise again, and humanity would tremble at her coming.

With her alliance with Voldemort, that day was approaching soon. Isolde smiled to herself. Once the Kingdom of the Night has been reborn, I'll have no need of the Dark Lord. The power of men is temporary. The power of the vampire is eternal. I'll overthrow him, and that will be the end of it.

She turned to Asmodeus, moving close enough to feel his heartbeat. She kissed him, sucking gently on his lips. "Am I not beautiful, Asmodeus?" she whispered, nuzzling his neck, feeling the pulse of his jugular vein beneath her lips, the sweet smell of blood below his skin.

In an instant, Asmodeus' knives were over her heart. "Hoping to turn me into one of you, my Lady?" the First Death Eater asked. Even though he had her in a deadly position, his voice was still as calm and polite as ever.

Isolde giggled, and moved forward. "Such beauty, Asmodeus! I'll make sure it stays like that forever..."

"Enough." The tone of Asmodeus' voice alone was enough to make her back down. "My Lady, we have work to do. Shall we?"

Entering the compound, the Nagarythe struck swiftly, cutting into the Aurors with lethal speed. The Aurors fought back, curses blazing, taking out several assassins, but in close combat, the Nagarythe held the advantage, tearing their opponents apart. One Auror charged forward, eager to avenge the deaths of his comrades. Instantly, an assassin drove a strange curved blade into his heart. As the weapon pierced the unfortunate Auror's flesh, acid wept from pores dotted along the blade. The Auror screamed in agony as the acid ate through his chest cavity, melting a hole right through him.

Another Auror ran for the house, in an attempt to raise the alarm. Several shuriken, throwing stars, buried into his back, sending him to the ground.

Asmodeus waded through the Aurors, cutting left and right with his long knives. An Auror fell, face sliced open. Another dropped to the ground, decapitated. The First Death Eater thrust a blade into an opponent's gut, before spinning around and hurling his second knife, catching yet another Auror in the throat, cutting off the scream that issued from his mouth. Faced with the furious Nagarythe assault, the Aurors broke and ran, pursued by the victorious servants of Voldemort.

Screams could be heard from the house, as the second group of assassins succeeded in capturing the sleeping occupants. Asmodeus sheathed his knives. "Bring the prisoners out here! The rest of you, start searching for the talismans!"

Isolde walked over to him. "That was well done," she said, observing the bloodshed around them, licking her lips. Her own powers were substantial, but they were not needed to destroy the Auror guards. "Is the Ministry so weak it cannot defend its own workers?"

"We shall see," came Asmodeus' response.

Their hands bond in front of them, the prisoners were dragged in front of Asmodeus, a balding Ministry worker, his wife, and their three children, two boys and a girl, all about seventeen years old. Inside the house, assassins searched every nook and cranny for their objective, tearing the house apart. The father grovelled before Asmodeus, begging and pleading. "Please, sir," he wept, his breath coming out in terrified gasps, "spare us, sir. I am just a simple worker in the Ministry of Magic. My name is Charlie Borkon. We have no money or information to give you."

"Spare me your cringing, worm," Asmodeus spat, kicking the man over. "You have two possessions that my master is interested in. Somewhere in your dung-heap of a house are the Liber Mortis and the Null Stone. You retrieved them from an excavation in Mongolia, as part of the Ministry's plan to recover ancient artefacts. Tell where they are, and I promise to be swift when I kill you."

Borkon's eyes darted from side to side, and sweat ran down his forehead. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice weak with fear.

"I see," Asmodeus replied, drawing a knife. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory!" He plunged the knife deep into Ms. Borkon's chest, slicing open her heart. The children screamed as she collapsed, blood pouring forth. Behind them, Isolde licked her lips in anticipation.

"Remember now?" Asmodeus asked, moving behind one of the sons.

"I don't know!" Borkon screamed, tears flowing down his face.

Asmodeus slit the first boy's throat, then threw him down onto the ground, blood mingling with the earth. He arrived behind the second son. "Tell me where they are."

Borkon looked up at Asmodeus with revulsion. "They're too powerful! You don't know what you'll unleash!"

With a bellow of rage, Asmodeus seized the second boy's head and snapped his neck like a twig, then threw the body with the others. By this point, both Borkon and his daughter were weeping freely, wailing and screaming curses at the First Death Eater. Isolde clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to resist the urge to feed. Asmodeus leaned down beside the girl, tears staining her thin nightgown. In an almost peaceful gesture, he tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Tell me, girl, what is your name?" he asked softly.

"Cindy," the girl responded weakly, even as fresh tears welled up.

Asmodeus chuckled. "Well, Cindy, there's no need to cry now. Cry later, when I begin to strip the flesh from your bones if your father doesn't co-operate."

"Wait!" Borkon shrieked, utterly terrified. "Please, you win, just don't hurt my daughter! The items are in the basement, in the green chest. Please, don't hurt her!"

Asmodeus dispatched several assassins to the basement, and surely enough, they found it, a wooden chest, covered in green dragonhide leather and sealed with a series of locks. "How do you open it?" Asmodeus asked.

Borkon relented for a moment, but seeing a knife at his daughter's throat, he gave in. "The password is treasure."

Speaking the password, the latches snapped open, and Asmodeus' breath caught in his throat, seeing the talismans they were sent to retrieve, wrapped in layers of silk.

The first was a large, ancient book, its covers black, its pages made from human skin. On the cover and all over the pages, a twisted and blasphemous script had been written in human blood, a language that few knew existed, and even fewer could translate. For this was the Liber Mortis, the Book of Death, written by the Lichemaster Nehek almost a thousand years ago.

The second was a plain black gemstone, as dark as the deepest abyss. Asmodeus touched it for a moment, and was overwhelmed by a feeling of weakness more powerful than anything he had ever felt in his life. The Null Stone sat there, its very presence making the assembled wizards uneasy.

Asmodeus smiled. "These are the ones. You two," he ordered, pointing to two of the Nagarythe, "take them back to Lord Voldemort. The rest of you, torch this place. Leave nothing."

The Nagarythe silently went to do his bidding, and he turned back to Borkon, a wicked grin on his face. "Thank you for your aid, Mr. Borkon. See, it wasn't so painful, was it?"

The ageing Ministry worker looked at Asmodeus with burning hatred. "You son of a bitch. You killed my family, and I'll kill you, and-" Borkon's voice was cut off as Asmodeus flung a knife straight into his heart, faster than the eye could see.

Asmodeus walked up towards the mortally wounded Borkon and leered in his face. "This is what happens when you resist the Dark Lord. You die," he oozed, spitting him, and removing his knife.

With a tortured howl, Isolde broke down, leaping over to Borkon's corpse and devouring the blood that gushed from the gaping wound. Moaning in ecstasy, she buried her face in the wound, working her way deeper into his body, squealing in pleasure. Asmodeus looked on, his expression stony, before ordering an assassin, "Gag the girl, and bring her to my chambers. Spoils of war, after all."

The girl, Cindy, screamed in terror, as one of the Nagarythe gagged her and placed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Already, the rest of the strike team were moving to the Apparition point. Asmodeus took one final look around, before moving to join them.

Blaise finished updating her files, secreting them within their hiding place once again. Slytherin House was abuzz with activity, as many of the Slytherins tried to create plans of their own to kidnap Chang, eager to win Malfoy's favour. Blaise shook her head in disgust. We've lost our way. Back in the days of the Founders, Slytherin was a proud, powerful, House. We didn't toady to the nearest bully. Fortunately, Malfoy had yet to decide on a final plan, and until he did, the Slytherins had been forbidden to attempt anything. This gave her some time. Time to gather support. Time to cause confusion. Time to show them what a true Slytherin was capable of!

She had originally planned to contact Potter and Chang anonymously and warn them of the threat, but she dismissed the idea. It was unlikely that they would take the threat seriously, and even if they know it was her, they wouldn't trust a Slytherin. If they did take it seriously, no doubt they'd blunder around the school in typical Gryffindor fashion and confront Malfoy. If he managed to escape unscathed, Draco would realize that he had been betrayed, and come after her, a scenario she wanted to avoid. Besides, she didn't know the time, place, or method on their attempt anyway.

In the bed beside her, Blaise heard Pansy moan in her sleep. Malfoy's girlfriend was at the head of their plans against Potter, and was often seen directing strategy with Malfoy. Pansy was the driving force behind this plan, so if Blaise were to stop it, Pansy would have to be stopped.

Drawing her wand, Blaise made her way over to Pansy's bed, listening to the twisted Slytherin thrash and moan in her sleep, the silk sheets hissing together. Blaise pulled back the curtains, whispering "Stupefy!", knocking Pansy out cold.

Blaise stared at Pansy with revulsion, raising her wand. Sorry, Pansy, but you'll bring this House to ruin. I won't let that happen.

"Obvilate Targous!" she whispered, casting a modified Memory Charm on Pansy. Concentrating, she removed the specific memories from her mind of the plot against Potter, especially her part in it. Sweat ran down her forehead, Blaise praying she wouldn't be caught. Finally, she finished erasing Pansy's mind of the plot. Satisfied with her charm-work, Blaise gathered an object from her clothes drawer, silently exiting the dormitory. Pansy won't be able to encourage your moronic plans, Draco darling. Don't make me take it to the next level. Like a thief in the dark, she crept throughout the dungeons, causing havoc and mayhem, quietly chuckling to herself. By the time she finished, Slytherin House would be in disarray when the students awoke...

The next few weeks passed in a blur for Harry, every waking moment of his time spent on either school, Quidditch, Occlumency practice, or with Cho. She too had started to feel the pressures of classes, and was often seen in the library, feverishly studying to get a head start on her N.E.W.T's. While the time they spend together was short, Harry was grateful for being with Cho, and they used their time to the fullest extent.

Finally, three weeks into the school year, it was time for the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. The tryouts of the Gryffindor team had been good, and Ron was constantly drilling Harry and the others, directing them into a series of new manoeuvres to use against Slytherin. The Gryffindor team, with new members, was relatively inexperienced compared to the brutal veterans of Slytherin House, but they had skill, and frenzied determination.

An air of tension had fallen over the school in the days before the match, both sides driven to the defeat of the other. The Gryffindors, like the rest of the school, had not forgotten the humiliation they had suffered at the hands of Slytherin House during Umbridge's reign of terror, and were eager to take their arch-rivals down a peg or two. On the other side, the Slytherins, driven by their unrelenting hatred of Gryffindor House, steeled themselves for the aerial clash to come, determined to show the power of their House, and silence the growing uproar of dissent against them.

Already, several fights had broken out between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, both sides edgy at each other's presence. Fortunately, the majority of the time, the Gryffindors held the upper hand, the skills they learned in the D.A. going to good use. Ron asked that Harry be escorted to his classes should he be ambushed by Malfoy's thugs, and the Gryffindors took Ron's request to heart.

The day came, and the morning breeze found Harry in the Gryffindor locker room, clutching his Firebolt tightly against his chest, as if expecting the Slytherins to steal it anyway. Beside him, Ron stood, a golden C sewn to the front of his Quidditch robes, going over the final details of their game plan in his mind. He was sweating with anxiety, his hands shaking. "Don't worry, Ron," Harry said, trying to calm his friend down, moving to the side so the others couldn't hear them. "We'll be fine. We beat Slytherin before, and we can do it again. You're a great Captain, and we're well trained because of it."

Ron shook his head. "Not well trained enough, mate. If only we had more time. Some of these guys haven't even played a real game of Quidditch, never mind one against Slytherin."

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Well, Ron, at least there's one thing going for us."

"What's that, mate?" Ron asked.

"They're not singing that damn song this time."

Ron laughed heartily, remembering the 'Weasley is our King' song from last year. After a moment, Harry joined in. The two veteran Quidditch players turned to face the rest of the team. Harry's heart swelled in pride as he saw them, dressed in Quidditch robes, clutching brooms, chatting amongst themselves jovially.

Katie and Ginny formed the base of the Chaser line, joined by a fourth-year named Tiffany Maurer, affectionately dubbed, "The Longshot." Maurer had played Quidditch extensively before coming to Hogwarts, and was incredibly accurate with the Quaffle, capable of deflecting a Bludger in mid-flight with a quick toss.

With the Weasley twins gone, it fell to the Creevy brothers to fill in the gap as the Beaters. Colin and his younger brother Dennis were newcomers to the game, but showed great skill compared to their relative inexperience. Every practice, they had gotten better and better, and now, they stood beside their hero Harry, ready to prove themselves in an actual game.

"All right, listen up!" Ron barked, and the team fell silent. "Now, I know we're not the most experienced team in Hogwarts, but that's not important. What's important is we stick to the plan, and remember what we've practiced. Malfoy," he said, pointing out into the sunlight, "is out there, so let's show that stuck-up pure-blood git what a real Quidditch team looks like!"

Colin hefted his Beater club onto his shoulder. "Payback time."

"Damn right, Colin. That git doesn't deserved to be a Seeker, none of his team deserve to step out on the pitch with real players." Ron's gaze focused on each and every one for a moment. "Let's bring them down! For Gryffindor House!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" came their war-cry, and the team charged out onto the pitch, taking their positions across the sea of grass. The Slytherins were already in place, with Malfoy at the lead, wearing the Captain's patch. All around them, the students of the four Houses of Hogwarts stood in the stands, waving flags and cheering their respective teams on. Harry saw that most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs wore red scarves loosely around their necks, showing their support for the Gryffindor team.

The greatest sights in the stands were three large banners, bearing the heraldry of their houses. The silken standard of Gryffindor, the golden lion on the field of red, was born aloft by Neville Longbottom, waving it enthusiastically. Luna Lovegood held the banner of Ravenclaw, the bronze raven on the field of blue, its cloth tassels flittering in the gentle breeze that rolled off the lake. The gonfalon of Hufflepuff flew high, the black badger on the field of yellow, its banner-pole in the hands of Hannah Abbot, smiling with pride.

Harry exhaled his captured breath, hearing the sound of the crowds booming from the stadium. This was why he did it. The satisfaction of the crowds supporting him, the joy of open flight, the adrenaline rushing as the two Seekers raced for the Golden Snitch. Some men found joy in playing music, tilling the soil and planting crops fulfilled others, others still found pleasure in painting and creating masterpieces of art, but this was what made Harry's heart race and his soul sing. This, and Cho...he thought, searching for her raven-black hair in the crowds.

"Now, I want a nice clean game!" Madam Hooch snapped, looking at Ron and Malfoy. "Captains, shake hands."

They did, Malfoy glowering at Ron, his eyes cold and vicious, while Ron squeezed Malfoy's hand extra hard, his own gaze no less menacing.

"Teams, mount your brooms!" Hooch shouted, bringing the whistle to her mouth.

Malfoy sneered at Harry. "Scared, Potter?"

Harry grinned ferally. "I think you know the answer already, Malfoy."

Hooch blew her whistle, the balls were released and the two teams sprang into action, the memories of past grudges running through their minds. Up in the announcer's booth, Dean Thomas sat beside Professor McGonagall, calling the play-by-play.

"Alright, it's Ginny Weasley first with the Quaffle, very pretty girl there, Ginny, anyway, Weasley with the Quaffle, scooting past Warren, up to Slytherin Keeper Grant, shoots- no wait, passes to Bell! Bell shoots! SCORE! TEN-ZERO GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands, while the Slytherins booed. Meanwhile, Harry sat at a high altitude, hunting for the Snitch, looking for the tell-tale flash of gold that would led him to it.

"Slytherin heading up towards the Gryffindor end, Warren at the lead, pass to Mon- intercepted by Tiffany Maurer of Gryffindor! Maurer, racing back to the Slytherin goal! Come on, Tiffy! FASTER!"

Maurer held the Quaffle in the crook of her arm, and nearing the half-way point, threw it with all her strength. The Longshot earned her title with that throw, the Quaffle sailing throw the left goalpost before the Slytherin Keeper could react. By this point, Dean had regained control of the microphone from Professor McGonagall.

"Lighten up, Professor! Anyway, Slytherin heading back up, Warren on the offensive again, BLOCK IT, RON! YES! WEASLEY SAVE!"

Malfoy hovered below and behind Harry, maintaining a set distance between the two of them. Whenever Harry went to the right, Malfoy went right as well, shadowing his every movement. From what Harry could gather, Malfoy was planning on letting Harry find the Snitch for him, then hope to close the distance before he could. Harry grinned. Find you own Snitch, Malfoy. It was insane to think that Malfoy thought his Nimbus could best Harry's Firebolt. You want to play it that way, Malfoy? All right, then just follow me.

With lightning speed, Harry flew to the left, heading towards the stands. Malfoy followed, thinking that Harry had found the Snitch. Before Harry hit the stands, he jerked right again, feinting the blond Slytherin. Malfoy barely managed to avoid a collision, his face red with anger. "Stand still, Potter, damn you!"

Harry feinted again and again, and each time, Malfoy followed without hesitation. Whether soaring high above the stands, or down low to the ground, Malfoy followed. Harry even buzzed a formation of Slytherin Chasers, and Malfoy trailed him, causing the Slytherins to drop the Quaffle, allowing Ginny to score.

While Harry continued his game of follow-the-leader with Malfoy, the Gryffindors were quickly dominating the skies. Ginny, Katie, and Tiffany engaged in amazing displays of teamwork and co-ordination, passing the Quaffle back and forth to one another as they flew towards the Slytherin goals, disorienting the Slytherin Keeper and attacking from unguarded angles. The Creevy brothers flanked them, preventing the Bludgers from disrupting their formation, and sending them at the Slytherin Chasers should they intercept the Quaffle. Ron was a wall between the Slytherins and the Gryffindor goals, blocking most of their shots.

To make matters worse for the Slytherins, Harry used himself as a human Bludger, darting through the Slytherin formations, disrupting their offence, piercing through their defence like an arrow, all while leading Malfoy on a wild goose chase.

In desperation, the Slytherins fell back on a time-honoured tactic. Cheating. Katie had the wind knocked out of her by a Beater's club. A Slytherin Chaser grabbed Ginny by the hair, causing her to drop the Quaffle in shock. Crabbe shoved Dennis off his broom with a disdainful flick, sending him tumbling to the ground. Fortunately, the third-year wasn't flying very fast or high, otherwise the consequences would have been painful. Colin retaliated by smashing Crabbe on the back of the head with his club, pole-axing him.

Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor penalty throws for these offences, and Ginny struck hard, scoring two out of three times. For Colin's offence, one of the Slytherin Chasers got a throw against Ron, who easily saved. Although they battered and bruised the Gryffindors through cheating, the Slytherins fell back even farther, points-wise, each time they did.

Madam Hooch allowed both teams a time-out to revive the fallen Beaters, and the Gryffindors landed on the pitch, where Madam Pomfrey was looking over Dennis. The young Gryffindor angrily pushed her aside and grabbed his broom.

"Mr. Creevy, sit down," Pomfrey barked, applying a compress to his head. "You're in no condition to play right now!"

Dennis shook her off. "It's okay, I'm alright! In my first year, I fell into the lake on the way to Hogwarts. No bully from Slytherin is going to get me down."

"You sure, Dennis?" Ginny asked. "Maybe she's right, you should rest, keep you from getting hurt more."

Dennis looked at Ginny with fire in his eyes. "I'm not going to abandon the team! Not now! Not against Slytherin!"

Before an argument could erupt, Ron stepped in. "Alright, enough. I'm the Captain here, I'll decide. Dennis," he asked, raising three fingers, "how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Dennis replied.

Ron smiled. "He's good to go!" The team re-mounted onto their brooms, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's objections. The crowd of Gryffindor supporters cheered and hollered, seeing Dennis get back on his broom, slightly shaky.

The game continued, and Gryffindor extended their lead, out-flying and out-playing the Slytherins at every turn. Harry flew slowly over the pitch, searching for the Snitch once more.

Harry felt the wind being knocked out of him as Malfoy rammed into him, sideswiping his with his broom. Harry held on, struggling to breathe, sucking in great gasps of air. "How do you like it, Potter?" Malfoy shouted, seeing Harry's distress.

Harry lay down flat on his broom, his legs wrapped tightly around to keep him from falling, staring down at the Pitch below. The glimmer of gold caught his eye. The Snitch, below him at ground level! He grinned to himself. Then dropped.

The spectators gasped in horror and shock as Harry went into a tailspin, he and his broom freefalling out of control. "Come on, Harry, you can do it," he whispered to himself, watching the ground rush up towards him, faster and faster, the tiny glint of gold hovering seductively before him.

Malfoy screamed, "NO!" as he realized what Harry was doing. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO STEAL THIS FROM ME!" He went into a tailspin as well, mimicking Harry's move into an effort to reach the Snitch first.

Just as Harry was about to hit, he pulled up on his broom, stabilizing himself and slowing his momentum. His outstretched hand grabbed the Snitch, the walnut-sized ball of gold struggling to escape. "YES!"

The stadium erupted into shouts of joy, and Harry felt six red cloaked forms descend on him. Ron was crying in happiness. "You did it, mate! Bloody well done!" The Gryffindor Chasers enveloped him a massive hug, shrieking with jubilation. Colin and Dennis whooped, dancing around. "I told you he could do it, Colin," Dennis said, "I knew it!"

"280 to 30, for Gryffindor!" Madam Hooch said, blowing her whistle.

Ron cackled in glee. "That'll teach Malfoy to pick on us. Bloody hell, mate, where you trying to kill yourself?"

Ginny threw him a disapproving look. "Ron! Anyway," she whispered, "well done, Harry."

"Thanks, Gin," Harry replied. "You were great too. You guys just flew circles around them!"

The stands emptied, as the Gryffindors made their way to the Pitch, eager to congratulate the team on its victory. No few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined them, shaking hands and cheering for the noble Gryffindors. The Slytherins slunk away, deflated by their loss, Malfoy leading the rear.

"Well now, Mr. Potter, it seems you've been holding out on me," Cho said, appearing by his side. Besides her usual Ravenclaw uniform, she wore a light Gryffindor scarf around her neck, bringing out the colour of her hair even more. She kissed him softly, the touch of her soft, full lips sending sparks through him. "Congratulations, my love."

Harry smiled, returning the kiss. "Thanks, Cho. That should keep Malfoy shut up for a while, huh?"

Cho giggled softly. "Probably. But, Harry, that was amazing!" she said, her voice filled with awe. "Have you ever thought about going professional?"

"Maybe," Harry replied. "When I was younger, yes, but now Voldemort's back. Besides," he said, grabbing Cho by the scarf and gently pulling her close, until he felt her breasts pressing against him. "I've found my Golden Snitch right here." They kissed, a full, passionate kiss, lost in the moment, ignoring the hubbub around them, the tenderness of the kiss enveloping them. After a minute, they broke apart only for need of air, their faces rosy with delight.

"So," Harry said, tracing her cheek with his hand, "we'll probably be having a party in Gryffindor Tower tonight. Want to come?"

Cho's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure they'll allow it?"

"Who cares?" Harry declared, holding her close. "We kicked Malfoy's arse today. That's reason enough to celebrate with a beautiful woman."

Cho blushed at the compliment. "Why, thank you, Harry! Sure. I'll meet you over by the entrance to the old D.A. room, I'm not exactly sure where Gryffindor Tower is. Now, join your team-mates, my love. It seems you're getting a lift home!"

Before Harry could inquire what she was talking about, strong hands grabbed him and lifted him overhead, the Gryffindors bearing their team on their shoulders, chanting cries of victory, the banner of Gryffindor House at their head.

That night, the Gryffindors celebrated within the Common Room, jubilant over their victory. Pints of Butterbeer flowed freely and mounds of cakes and snacks were stacked up, courtesy of Dobby and the house-elf staff. The sound of music playing and students filtered through the air, and the atmosphere was full of life and happiness. A great blow had been struck to the pride of Slytherin House, and now the victorious Gryffindors were enjoying the spoils.

Harry sat in the corner with Cho, kissing her hungrily, the two of them hidden in shadow from the other party-goers. Harry's lips ran a trial of small kisses up the nape of Cho's neck, causing her to moan in pleasure. "Great game today, my love. Just don't feel bad when I beat you."

Harry smiled, his eyes travelling the length of her sensual body. Cho was achingly beautiful in her school robes, but even more irresistible in casual wear. Tonight, she wore a red cotton blouse, hugging every curve, a black leather miniskirt and her usual knee-high black leather boots, encasing her long legs. "You can try, Cho. Don't plan on it, though!"

Cho laughed softly. "Ginny and the other Chasers are good, but it comes down to the Seeker in the end. And, let me tell you, I'm not going to go easy on you," she declared, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry whispered passionately, as they kissed again, feeling their warmth enshrouding them. He took a swig of Butterbeer, hearing the buzz of conversation around them. "By the way, Cho, who thought up the banners?"

"That was me," Cho said, beaming with pride. "I thought it would be a good idea to show some House pride, so a bunch of us got together and created the banners. Most of the school was supporting you, Harry, even kids from other Houses. That's a lot of support you can call on. Having the banners just helped them to feel good about themselves and their House. They help motivate them."

She has a good heart, Harry thought, even as he kissed her again. She's kind, beautiful, intelligent, sexy. What have I done to deserve such an amazing woman by my side?

Speeches were given by the Quidditch team, and toasts were made to their continued success, to a good school year, to winning the House Cup, it did not matter what. Before long, Harry was dancing with the members of his House and Cho, drinking whatever was forced into his hands, and losing himself to the overwhelming mirth and merriment. He felt himself become light-headed, his mind spinning with the music and drink.

Then Ginny was before him, her hair shining in the firelight, eyes bright with happiness. She reached down for Harry's hands, sweeping him towards her. Harry was entranced by her dazzling smile, head spinning. He heard her speak words that he could not understand, and the world became a blur of light and sound. He felt a woman's lips on his. Then he felt no more.