I hope you guys aren't annoyed by inconsistent chapter lengths. They just sort of…happen at those lengths. Wow, that reference was not intended.

Chapter Thirteen: The Quidditch Final

No one slept at all in Gryffindor Tower the rest of the night, and there was little conversation. When morning dawned, however, it became clear that Sherlock Holmes had once again escaped.

"This is the third time," said Ron over breakfast, when the teachers were finally certain he was no longer in the castle and allowed the students to come out of their common rooms to eat. "First he breaks out of Azkaban. Then he breaks in to Hogwarts on Halloween and slips out again then, and now he's done it a third time!"

"I'm beginning to question if our teachers are really competent at all when it comes to keeping students safe at this school," said Hermione contemplatively.

Harry had to admit she had a point. "Yeah, just this year one of the most infamous murderers ever (if he isn't innocent like some of our teachers seem to think, and I don't see why he would have broken into where I was sleeping last night if he is) gets in and out of the castle twice, and we have dementors swooping around that made killed me two Quidditch matches ago."

"Then last year there was all that stuff with the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione reminded them. "And first year they brought in a vicious three-headed dog."

"Yeah, and let's not forget the tree that could kill you," said Ron. "Whose bright idea was it to plant the Whomping Willow on a school's grounds?"

They all took a few more bites of their food, and then Harry said in a low voice, "But you don't think…you don't think that some of our teachers could have let Holmes escape?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Well, if Anderson, Professor Watson, and Professor Hooper all think he's innocent, you don't think that would mean they wouldn't try as hard to catch him?"

"Rubbish," said Ron through his bacon. "Even if he weren't guilty, they'd still want to talk to him, wouldn't they? He'd need a trial to explain himself, wouldn't he? They'd want to clear his name."

"You don't think…you don't think that the Ministry would just kill him without hearing what he has to say if they catch him?" asked Hermione.

"Nah," said Ron. "They'd have to."

"But what about the dementors? If they catch him first, could they perform the Kiss before he can say anything?"

"The Kiss?" asked Harry, sure he had heard wrong.

"It's a dementor's worst weapon," said Hermione. She shuddered slightly. "It's when…it's when they suck out someone's soul through their mouth."

Harry choked on his food. "They do what?"

Hermione was looking grim. "They suck out their soul. And then that person won't actually be dead, not if their body is okay, but they'll just…it's like their empty, like an empty shell."

"Yeah," said Ron gravely. "They won't know who they are or anything. It's sick."

"And we actually employ these creatures to patrol our prison? What?"

Hermione nodded, looking upset. "Not everything is great in the Wizarding World. I suppose both it and the Muggle World have their problems."

Harry suddenly didn't feel like eating. After a few moments, he cast the conversation back to what he'd been asking about. "But what about our teachers? You don't think they knew Holmes was going to try and get in last night?"

"I don't think so," said Hermione. "There isn't anyway they'd be able to communicate with him, is there? And Harry, no matter what happened with the Map, I'm sure that Professor Watson would never want to hurt you. He likes you! You're a great student in his class, and he really respects you."

Harry played with his eggs a little with his fork.

"And remember that when he took the Map, the reason he was angry was because he said Sherlock Holmes could use it to find you if he had it. Watson isn't about to help Holmes get to you," said Ron.

Harry was feeling a little reassured. Still, he hoped the new security measures would keep Holmes from getting in a third time. Sir Cadogan had of course been retired to his own stretch of wall in the North Tower, and the portrait of Mrs. Hudson had been reinstated as guardian of Gryffindor Tower. Looking very nervous, she was protected by two trained security trolls, who paced back and forth on the landing and glared at students as they gave the password, which now changed at least every other day and was a phrase stranger and longer than ever. Students were no longer able to leave the castle after six in the evening without a teacher, and Quidditch practices were heavily monitored by Madam Hooch and often another member of the staff.

Quidditch. The final was fast approaching, and never could anyone remember a match doing so in a more highly charged atmosphere. Everyone was becoming more and more excited and nervous for the game, and Harry couldn't imagine that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's teams were even able to practice anymore, because it seemed as if Gryffindor and Slytherin, the two teams that would be facing off, were constantly using the pitch. And when he wasn't on the pitch practicing with the rest of the team, Harry felt like he was engaged in constant discussions, or more like lectures, on tactics with Wood and struggling to keep up with the vast amount of work from his classes. Their final exams were fast approaching as well, and Harry knew that as soon as the Quidditch final was over he'd have to get studying.

Wood was incessantly reminding his teammates that since Slytherin led the tournament by two hundred points, Gryffindor would have to win by at least that much to win the cup.

"So you must catch the Snitch only if we're fifty points up, have you got that, Harry?" became Wood's new mantra, much to Harry's annoyance, who had indeed got it.

The day before the match, Harry and Ron were sitting in Professor Yao's class, staring into the shallow depths of the crystal ball.

"I have decided to end our unit on tea leaves," said Professor Yao delicately. There was a collective sigh of "yes" from most of the class. Professor Yao's obsession with tea and her teapots had kept them on the subject since their very first lesson, and now that it was May, they were very eager to do something different. "Therefore, we will now be starting crystal gazing. Everyone turn to the corresponding page in Unfogging the Future, and kindly observe the orbs I have laid out for you. Crystal gazing is a refined art, and one you simply cannot do with the inner eye clouded by the mundane. Relax your mind, let it go completely blank, and focus on the contents of your orb. Perhaps some of you will see by the end of the lesson, if the fates favor us."

Harry did as he was told, and stared into the swirling mist inside his crystal ball. A few half-hearted attempts later, he concluded that there was no way he was going to be able to clear his mind completely. Thoughts of the match that was the next day—could it really be the next day? and other thoughts, more closely related to the task at hand, like "this is stupid," kept drifting across his mind like the fog inside the glass. He sighed sleepily, the smell and warmth of Professor Yao's classroom not helping, and Hermione's incessant bemoaning of what a waste of time this was. Wait, Hermione? When had she gotten here? Harry was about to open his mouth to ask her when she'd come in, when Ron spoke.

"Well," said Ron, after a few minutes of quiet crystal gazing. "I think it's obvious what this means."

Harry and Hermione looked at him in surprise. "There's going to be loads of fog for your Quidditch match, Harry."

Harry and Hermione snickered, and Professor Yao swooped down on their table. "Well? What have you observed so far?"

"The hawk," said Hermione, staring Professor Yao down defiantly. Apparently Hermione thought that if that was what Professor Yao was expecting, and Harry was sure that it was, she might as well tell it to her.

"My dear," said Professor Yao, regarding Hermione with clear dislike. "From the moment you stepped in my classroom, I was aware that you lacked…a certain aura needed for Divination."

There was silence in the classroom. Everyone was watching Hermione to see how she would react.

Professor Yao continued. "You lack the subtlety for such an art."

"You mean that if I have to sit here for hours staring at an empty piece of glass—" said Hermione.

"I mean that you must clear your mind, see beyond yourself and the immediate world! I have never met a student so inept at this!"

"Fine!" yelled Hermione, who had clearly had enough. "I quit! I'm leaving!" and with that, she stood up, grabbed her bag, and marched over to the trapdoor, which she kicked open and left through.

Harry and Ron stared at each other in amazement.

Back in the common room that night, everyone was dealing with the stress and excitement of the match in different ways. Fred and George were doing it by making a great deal more noise than usual, with Angelina, Alicia and Katie laughing at their jokes, and Wood was sitting in a corner, muttering to himself as he tapped squiggly arrows on a model Quidditch pitch with his wand. Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione in their normal chairs, trying to ignore the rest of his fellow Gryffindors, who were either happy and enthusiastic about the match they'd get to watch tomorrow, or else subdued and jittery, anxious about the match that would decide who won the cup this year—Gryffindor hadn't won the cup in years, and everyone was eager to see Slytherin put down.

"I just can't work," said Hermione uneasily, who still had the most to do out of anyone, even if she intended to make good on her promise of dropping Divination.

It came as a relief to Harry when Wood stood up and shouted "Team! Bed!"

The dawn broke, and Harry woke up not too long afterward. When he walked down to breakfast with the rest of the team, if was to a tumult of sound, the cheers of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw drowning out Slytherin's boos. Wood spent all of breakfast encouraging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he dragged them all outside to get a feel for the conditions. The sky was bright blue with a smattering of clouds, and the air was warm and nearly hot, but that would be comfortable once they were in the air.

Harry had hoped they would have a chance to fly a lap or two to warm up, but soon students began to spill out from the school and into the stands, and Wood ordered them to the changing rooms.

Once they had put on their Quidditch robes, if Wood was going to make a speech, he found that he couldn't. He opened his mouth a few times, but words failed him, and he simply beckoned them to follow him out onto the pitch.

"And it's the Gryffindor team!" yelled Lee Jordan enthusiastically. "With…Jones! Spinnet! Bell! Wood! Weasley! Weasley! Aaaaannnnddd, Potter!"

Harry felt like a gigantic beast was welcoming him onto the field with the noise that issued from the hundreds of students gathered in the stands, each one attempting to scream themself hoarse.

The Slytherin team had already assembled, and Madam Hooch called "Captains, shake hands!" Harry watched with the rest of the team as Wood and Flint attempted to break each other's fingers.

"Mount your brooms!" yelled Madam Hooch. "And…Three! Two!" Harry assumed she yelled "one," but the roar of the crowd made it hard to tell. He thought he could make out the sound of her whistle, and he rose into the air with the rest of the players, kicking off hard.

It was exhilarating. Harry soared above the ground, leaving his fear behind with it, and prepared himself to play. He would search for the Snitch, and then keep Malfoy off it until Gryffindor was fifty points up and he could catch it himself.

Malfoy soon appeared, keeping his distance from Harry, but still very close by. Lee's commentary began as the Chasers passed the Quaffle back and forth between themselves, and Harry soon realized that this was going to be the dirtiest game of Quidditch he had ever witnessed. The Slytherin Beaters, Bole and Derrick, attacked Wood, unprovoked, and the Weasley twins retaliated by swinging Bludgers at the Slytherin Chasers mercilessly whenever they had the chance. If Fred and George were using the Bludgers, Slytherin players would just crash into the Gryffindor Chasers themselves instead, and penalties were awarded frequently.

Harry was beginning to think that penalties would count for half of the points scored in the match, but he tried not to get too angry at the brutal tactics playing out around him and search for the Snitch. Not long after Katie put in a well-placed shot past the Slytherin Keeper, he saw it. It was flitting about near Wood's end of the pitch, but Harry knew Gryffindor was only thirty points up and he shot off towards the Slytherin hoops, faking a look of intense concentration. Malfoy fell for it, and quickly jerked around to follow Harry, his eyes scanning the area in front of them frantically as he looked for the Snitch. Harry hurdled forward, taking them closer and closer to the stands. Malfoy must clearly think he was crazy, they were going to crash in just a few seconds, and the crowds was roaring in confusion and excitement. At the very last moment, Harry pulled upwards, and a flush of adrenaline went through him as he nearly clipped some of the Hufflepuffs who were watching in that stand. Malfoy hit the wood just beneath where the seats started, and struggled to stay on his broom.

"HA!" yelled Lee gleefully. "You'll need to be lighter on your toes against a Firebolt, Malfoy! Potter hadn't seen the Snitch at all, that was a very clever fake on his part with a very well-executed change of direction at the end there. Now, Slytherin in possession, approaching the goals—"

Harry savored his view of the pitch without Malfoy, and started to look for the Snitch again. It was several minutes before Malfoy rejoined him, and then Harry began to mark him so closely that the Slytherin Seeker quickly became frustrated.

Alicia scored twice, and Gryffindor was fifty points up. He could catch it now. If Harry got the Snitch now, they would win the match and the tournament. If only he could see the Snitch! It had disappeared, and Harry was unwilling to leave Malfoy unchecked to fly away from him and search for it this early in the game. Instead, he decided to play defensively, and stayed marking Malfoy.

"Get out of the way, Potter!" Malfoy snarled. Harry didn't even both to respond. One of the Slytherin Chasers had just gone up to the scoring area to take a penalty, and Harry's breath caught.

"Of course, Wood's an excellent Keeper," Lee was assuring the crowd. "Flint of Slytherin taking the penalty, he prepares, and—I DON'T BELIEVE IT, HE'S SAVED IT! Yes, Oliver Wood pulls off a spectacular save, just managing to punch the Quaffle away from the left goal hoop!"

Harry breathed again, and hurriedly began to search the skies. He could still catch the Snitch. Malfoy was circling just a little ways away, breaking away from Harry while he was distracted. Harry zoomed forwards towards him, but then something glinted below. He changed directions with a jerk, and saw just what he had hoped—the small golden ball was there, and he didn't think Malfoy knew. Without pause, Harry leaned his entire body forward on his Firebolt and pushed it downwards. Malfoy noticed after several seconds and followed, but Harry had the lead. Chasers and Beaters were flying about below, but Harry didn't care, he had eyes for the Snitch only. He felt a whoosh of air behind him, and didn't turn to see George's Bludger deflect Malfoy, but reached out his right arm to catch the ball, and in the fraction of a second in which blood and a cacophony of noise from the crowd and Lee's megaphone, indistinguishable, pumped in his ears, Harry closed his hand around the ball.

It was complete mayhem, it was a rush of ecstasy and Harry and the rest of the team piled on top of one another, with one thought in mind, that they screamed. "WE'VE WON! WE'VE WON THE CUP!"

Harry was lifted up off the ground again, holding the Snitch above his head, not sure he'd ever be able to release his fingers even if he wanted to. And they led themselves over to the stand that was erected, where Dumbledore was waiting, holding the enormous trophy, and hundreds of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs boomed their approval above.

If only Harry could open his fingers to reach for his wand, he knew he could have cast magic's best Patronus.