"You alright, Harry?"
"Huh," Harry shook his head, clearing his mind. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."
"Well, hurry up and eat something, breakfast finishes soon." Ron returned to his sausage and eggs, leaving Harry to take small bites of his bacon sandwich.
He couldn't help thinking about his meeting with the whispering man, as he'd come to call him. He'd told him to be careful, to keep his eyes open. But for what?
"Ron, what would you do if someone told you to keep your eyes open?"
"My eyes open? For what?" questioned Ron, mirroring Harry's thoughts and pushing away his empty plate, pouring himself some orange juice.
"I don't know," sighed Harry, picking at the crusts of his sandwich. "Danger?"
"Keep my eyes open for danger?"
Harry nodded patiently.
"Uh, I'd listen, I guess. Why, whose been threatening you?" Ron's tone became serious.
"Oh, no, nothing like that. Just a dream I had," lied Harry quickly. "Shall we go?"
"Oh, alright," sighed Ron, and once again they headed up to the North Tower for their first lesson of the week.
An hour later they were lounging by the fire in the common room, making the most of their free period.
"Fancy a game of chess?" said Ron, gazing blankly out through the rain-splattered window.
"Alright, but only if you let me win," agreed Harry with a grin, sitting up and clearing the table of old bits of parchment.
"Can't guarantee that," grinned Ron back. Soon the two of them were coaching their players through one of the most intense games of wizard's chess Harry had ever played.
Harry's bishop was just being dragged off by his hair (thanks to Ron's knight) when Hermione tumbled through the portrait hole, her books spilling everywhere.
"Oh," she said, picking up her fallen things. "I've just come to get my coat, it's horrible out there, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but it's nice and warm in here," groaned Ron, stretching and glancing at his watch.
"Oh, go get your coats and I'll show you a little something I've been practicing," smiled Hermione, mysteriously.
Five minutes later the three of them were battling with the wind – thankfully the rain had stopped – down to care of magical creatures, each one of them snug and warm in their charmed, self-heating coats – a new spell Hermione had been practicing due to the cold weather.
"You know what, I think I'm too hot," moaned Ron, fanning his face as they walked down to Hagrid's hut.
"I can easily take the charm off," snapped Hermione, pulling out her wand.
"No!" said Ron, quickly. "It's fine, actually. Quite pleasant."
Harry grinned at Hermione who gave a quick wink, and they continued on their way.
"Harry!" boomed Hagrid, "Ron, Hermione! We were jus waitin' for yeh. Now, if we're all here, let's begin. If yeh'd like ter follow me." Hagrid waved a gigantic hand and set off towards the forest.
"Oh good," drawled Malfoy, his pale cheeks rosy red due to the wind. "The class favourites are here." He, Crabbe and Goyle hung back as the rest of the class followed Hagrid, blocking Harry, Ron and Hermione's way. "Why so red, Potter? Still embarrassed about what you did on Sunday? I know I would be." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered as Malfoy grinned triumphantly.
Harry assumed his face was red because he was actually quite warm. The wind had even eased off now, and there was really no need for their charmed coats anymore, but he wasn't going to tell Hermione that.
"Actually, Malfoy, if I were you, I'd be embarrassed everyday." He made his way forward and tried to push past Malfoy to follow the rest of the class, but Malfoy held up his arm and stopped Harry.
Ron lunged forward but was stopped by Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione hung back, unsure of what to do.
"You talk the talk now, Potter, but believe me, I could do it again you know."
"What are you on about, Malfoy?" snarled Harry as Malfoy leaned in close to Harry's ear.
"You'll see," he snarled back, pressing his foot on top of Harry's and crushing it.
"Harry!" bellowed Hagrid, waving a big arm. "Come an' see wha' we've go' 'ere!"
Harry waved back and shoved his way past Malfoy. "Coming Hagrid! We thought we saw a little blonde rat, but it was just our imagination!" called Harry. He glanced at Malfoy and growled, "oh wait, there it is."
They spent the rest of the lesson avoiding the Slytherins entirely, and found their hands full caring for several, small, leafy creatures called Leaf-Mockers. They looked exactly like leaves, and in Harry's opinion, acted exactly like leaves too, meaning his hour felt completely wasted.
"What a boring lesson!" groaned Ron as they sat down for lunch.
"Oh, it wasn't that bad," defended Hermione as she pulled a bowl of soup towards her.
"It was pretty dire," sighed Harry, buttering himself a bread roll. "You're sure they were actually animals? I'm pretty sure mine was just a leaf."
"Yes, they were animals, Harry! I'll have you know mine was quite lively!"
"Hermione!" said Ron, grinning. "I watched you – you even lost yours for a while because it hadn't moved for so long!"
"Shut up, Ronald. Eat your lunch. And you," she glared at Harry who was grinning at Ron.
Harry shoved his bread roll into his mouth and stared down at the table, hiding his grin.
The afternoon went quickly for the trio, and after Defence Against the Dark Arts and dinner were finished, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George all gathered around the fire in the common room to relax and warm up.
While Fred and George were lounging upside-down on the sofa, Ron had adopted his usual spot in one of the armchairs, gazing dreamily at Hermione, who was sat on the opposite armchair, cross-legged and reading a book. Harry was gazing into the fire, absentmindedly scratching Crookshanks behind the ear as he looked at the Marauders Map. He was fascinated by a dot that kept appearing as "?" located in the staff room. It was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.
"Ron?"
"Yeah mate?"
"Look at this." He pointed at the dot and passed the map to Ron. "What do you reckon it is?"
"Look at what?" asked Ron, taking the map from Harry and studying it.
"The dot in the staff room. The question mark," insisted Harry.
"Nothing there mate," said Ron, passing the map back.
"No, look, it's in the –" But Ron was right; there was nothing there. "What the –"
"Hey," said Ron, jabbing one of the twins with his foot. "If you two had the map for all those years, how come you never noticed an extra guy called Peter wandering around our dorm?"
Harry looked up, as did Hermione – this was true, come to think of it.
"Little brother, as much as we so deeply love you from the bottom of our hearts, we do not spend every waking moment staring at your name and worshipping the ground you walk on," droned Fred.
"No, we save that treatment just for Harry," added George with a grin in Harry's direction.
"Very funny," laughed Harry as Ron scowled. Hermione announced she was going to bed, and called Crookshanks who had fallen asleep on Harry's lap. He leapt off lightly and followed her up to bed.
An hour later Harry and Ron headed up to bed, leaving a dozing Fred and George asleep on the sofa.
"Night Harry," mumbled Ron, as he clambered into his bed.
"Night," replied Harry as he reached for his light. The room was plunged into darkness and Harry nestled his head into his pillow, floating off into a deep, dreamless asleep.
At breakfast the next morning, Hermione received a mysterious note in the mail, which, after reading, she promptly gathered up all her things and left the table, leaving Harry and Ron to wonder where she'd gone. It was only when she walked into charms twenty minutes late that Harry was able to ask where she'd gone. She dismissed it with a wave of her hand and said, "oh, it was nothing. What have I missed?"
Transfiguration came after lunch, and involved a hideous amount of note taking about the properties of beetles and buttons.
At the end of the lesson, Harry hung back as the class filed out.
"You coming, Harry?"
"I'll be right out," answered Harry, waving Ron and Hermione away.
"Stop dallying, Mr. Potter. Haven't you got a lesson to get to?" McGonagall was fussing around with several bits of parchment on her desk, glancing up while Harry hovered in the centre of the classroom.
"Um, yes, professor, but I was wondering if I could have a word?"
"About what, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall set down her bits of parchment and stared at him expectantly.
"Well, it's just –" Harry gathered up all his courage " – just, I've been having these dreams lately, well, every night really, and they're, they're about, um –"
"Anytime today, Mr. Potter."
"They're about Voldemort," blurted Harry, quickly. He saw McGonagall tense and immediately regretted telling her.
"Are they really?" McGonagall recovered quickly. "And what happens in them?" She walked towards him and perched on a desk.
"Um, it's just Voldemort, and he's holding something I can't see, and then he, then he … kills me," finished Harry, a little lamely. "Oh, and Wormtail's there too."
"Wormtail?"
"Sorry, Peter Pettigrew," corrected Harry.
"I see. And is he, well, does he have a body, or is he, is there –"
"No, well, sometimes," intervened Harry. "I can't always see him. It's more that I hear him. Hear his voice."
"Very well, Mr. Potter," nodded McGonagall, standing up and ushering him towards the door. "Thank you for telling me, but I don't think it's anything we should worry about."
"I'm not worried," protested Harry.
"Good. Now off to your next lesson or you'll be late."
When at dinner that evening, Ron had asked Harry what he'd talked to McGonagall about. Thinking quickly, Harry lied and said he'd had a question about Sunday's quidditch match. Ron seemed to believe it, but Hermione had looked at him sceptically for several minutes afterwards. Harry had stared at his treacle tart through the rest of dessert, and had avoided talking to anyone for the rest of the night.
He went up to bed early and was asleep before any of his dorm-mates came up for the night.
He awoke early next morning to the sound of heavy rain battering the windows yet again. He dressed quietly and wandered down to the common room. The sky was dark and stormy, and the fire had already been lit. Harry stifled a laugh as he saw Fred crashed out on the floor, his hair a bright pink colour – a good sign that George had been involved. He glanced at his watch and decided to head down for an early breakfast.
He wandered into the Great Hall, which was littered with five or six other early risers and a few teachers, including Professor Sprout, Professor Sinistra, Snape, and even Dumbledore.
Harry took a seat at the Gryffindor table and poured himself some icy water. After a few sips he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Professor Dumbledore strolling his way. Harry was just about to stand up when Dumbledore came and sat down beside him.
"Ah, it feels good to be sat a Gryffindor table once again," sighed Dumbledore, picking up a slice of toast and spooning marmalade onto it. "How quickly one forgets, Harry."
Harry nodded silently, not too sure about what was going on.
"Nice to see you up so early, Harry; you're not usually down for another forty minutes!"
"Yeah, I woke up earlier than usual. Sir." Harry added at the last minute.
"Yes, I find that I wake up earlier and earlier as the years go on. I was up at three this morning. Three o'clock! I had to wander around for five hours waiting for the kitchens to open. Did you know that this castle has fifty two bathrooms, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, winking.
Harry sucked in his drink and began to choke. He was able to disguise his laughs as coughs, and choked out "no Sir, I didn't."
"Yes, well, I'll see you later Harry. Enjoy your early breakfast!" And with that, Dumbledore popped the last bit of toast into his mouth, pushed himself up from the long table and left the Great Hall, leaving Harry to eat his toast in silence.
When all his breakfast was eaten, Harry found it desperately hard to sit still. His legs felt frustratingly twitchy, as though they needed a good, long walk. Deciding he'd meet Ron and Hermione at potions, he set off for a much needed walk around the castle, passing a scowling Fred and a hysterical George.
After several minutes of aimless wandering, Harry found himself staring at their potions classroom door.
"Do you need something, Potter, or are you simply admiring the ancient architecture of the door?"
Harry whirled around to gaze up at their Potions Master.
"No sir, I just got here a bit early –"
"Twenty minutes early," corrected Snape. He pushed past Harry and unlocked the door. "In," he ordered, holding the door open.
"Oh, no, I –"
"In, Potter. I will not have you dawdling outside my classroom."
"Yes sir," sighed Harry as he traipsed into the room.
He took his usual seat at the back of the chilly classroom and pulled out his potions book and quill. Snape had moved to the front of the classroom and was scrawling over the chalkboard in his spiky hand.
"Get yourself a cauldron, Potter. You may as well get started. Merlin knows you'll need about six attempts to get it right."
"Will not," muttered Harry under his breath.
"Will too," muttered Snape as Harry clunked around in the storeroom.
"What are we brewing today?" asked Harry as he set up his cauldron and lit a flame underneath. At Snape's glare he added a reluctant "sir?" on the end.
"'We' are not brewing anything, Potter. You and your classmates will be brewing a forgetfulness potion, while I carry on with my own … experiment."
"Your experiment, sir?"
"Yes. Come take a look at this, Potter," ordered Snape as he walked over to a simmering cauldron. Harry, who would much rather have stayed at the back, reluctantly walked to the front to gaze into Snape's cauldron. "I am going to try and combine the draught of living death with this cockroach." Snape pulled out a jar with a fat, scuttling cockroach clicking around inside it, attempting to make a break for freedom up the slippery glass walls.
"That's – that's not your … friends cockroach, is it?" questioned Harry, recoiling slightly. "You know, the one's you're looking after?"
"Oh yes," replied Snape, casually. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you can't use it! You'll kill it!"
"Yes. I thought you disliked them? What does it matter to you?"
"Well, yes, I do dislike them. A lot," reasoned Harry. "But it's still no reason to kill it. It's not fair," a slight pause, "sir."
"I see. Well, if you're that way inclined, I shall end my experiment there." The cauldron and the cockroach vanished with a 'pop'. "Now, get on with your potion, Potter. Even you should be able to manage a forgetfulness potion."
"Actually, I think I've forgotten how to brew one of those," grinned Harry, smiling at his own pathetic joke. He could have even sworn he saw the corners of Snape's mouth twitch a minuscule amount too.
Just as Harry was halfway through his potion, the rest of the class started to arrive. They were unsure of whether to come in or not, but as soon as they saw Harry they began to file in quietly. Snape leaned over Harry's potion and smirked.
"At last, an acceptable potion, Potter. Continue the way you are."
Snape moved off leaving Harry to pump his fists in glee.
"There you are mate!" came Ron's voice from the doorway. "He's in here Hermione."
Ron strolled over and dumped his stuff next to Harry's. "We were wondering where you were. Have an early breakfast, did you?"
"Yeah, woke up early," mumbled Harry, adding four mistletoe berries to his potion.
"Fair enough, what are we brewing today then?" asked Ron, sounding mildly interested.
"Forgetfulness potion," answered Harry, stirring his potion the required 28 times.
"Oh, not sure I can remember that one," grinned Ron.
"How unoriginal, Weasley," sneered Snape, materialising out of nowhere. "Get to work. Now," he commanded.
"Oh, there you are Harry!" chirped Hermione, placing her cauldron opposite him while Ron went off to fetch his ingredients. "Hey, that's looking good!" commended Hermione, smiling at his potion.
Harry grinned back and continued to add his ingredients.
"Why was Potter here so early, sir? Does he need as much help as he can get when it comes to potions?" Malfoy's voice drifted across the classroom and left the hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickling.
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, you know how Gryffindors struggle with potions."
The Slytherins sniggered and Harry tried to ignore them. He, Ron and Hermione continued working hard on their potions for the rest of the lesson.
When the first hour was up, Harry stepped back from his near perfect potion and sighed. He'd done it! He'd finally completed a potion successfully in one of Snape's classes!
"Potter, continue with your potion," barked Snape from the other side of the classroom.
"I've finished, sir," retaliated Harry.
"We'll just see about that," said Snape as he stalked over to Harry.
Harry saw Malfoy and his cronies look up, waiting for Snape to start tormenting Harry.
Not this time, Harry thought smugly.
"Pathetic, Potter. Start again."
Harry gaped in horror as his potion vanished, leaving just an empty cauldron staring up at him.
"But Professor!" protested Hermione. "Harry's potion was perfect –"
"20 points from Gryffindor. Do you think, Miss Granger, that I do not know a botched potion when I see one? Shut up you silly little girl and get on with your own potion," snapped Snape, glaring at the two of them.
Harry, mouth hanging open in disbelief, the Slytherin's spiteful laughter ringing in his ears, and his empty cauldron staring up at him mockingly, balled his fists together in anger and turned to Snape.
"I can't believe you –" but his rampage was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Harry couldn't believe Snape! Not an hour ago he'd been practically pleasant! Friendly, even!
"What is it?" barked Snape, his eyes never leaving Harry's glare.
The door opened swiftly to reveal a rather stern looking McGonagall.
"Professor – oh, sorry, have I interrupted something?" She glanced at Harry and Snape uncertainly, the two of them practically snarling at each other.
"Yes, Professor, but continue. Please," Snape spat.
"Very well, could I please borrow Mr. Malfoy?"
"Whatever for?" questioned Snape, turning to snarl at McGonagall instead.
"It is a matter to be settled between Mr. Malfoy and Professor Dumbledore, that is all I know," McGonagall replied tartly.
Harry saw Malfoy gulp and grinned with satisfaction, forgetting his hatred for Snape for a fleeting moment.
"Mr. Malfoy, pack away your things and follow Professor McGonagall," ordered Snape, turning his attention back to Harry. "Now, I believe you were saying something, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, Professor Snape," growled Harry through gritted teeth. He saw Malfoy's terrified face leaving the room out of the corner of his eye and felt a deep satisfaction.
"Well then," Snape practically whispered as he leaned into Harry's desk, causing Harry to lean back for fear of bumping noses with the man. "I suggest you keep it to yourself and start your potion again."
"You can't –"
"10 points from Gryffindor."
"But you –"
"20 points from Gryffindor."
"That's not –"
"Mr. Potter! 50 points from Gryffindor! If you continue to argue with me I shall continue to take points! Now get on with your potion!"
"Why should –"
"Harry, please!" pleaded Hermione in a whisper, grabbing Harry's arm as he began to retaliate again. "Just leave it!"
"But Hermione! He –"
"We've lost a hundred points mate, just leave it." Ron looked at Harry with a hint of disgust in his eyes, and Harry felt his face heat up. He'd lost them eighty points? All because he'd got angry… He got up quietly and collected a whole new set of ingredients, returning to their bench to see a whole group of disgusted Gryffindor eyes glaring at him.
After twenty minutes of silence, Harry sighed in relief as a knock at the door sounded again, breaking the tension that had settled over the room.
"Yes!" barked Snape from his desk, glancing up to glare at Harry again.
McGonagall rushed into the room and hurried to Snape's desk. She murmured something that caused him to snarl and glance in Harry's direction. Harry quickly looked away and shifted his feet uncomfortably.
"Class dismissed! You will re-start your potions on Friday." Snape stood and glowered at them all.
"What?!" cried Ron, throwing down his parsley sprigs in dismay. "I've worked hours on this!"
"One hour and twenty minutes, Ron," sighed Hermione dejectedly. "Oh well, I suppose it means more practice."
"It'll be my third time trying it," added Harry, vanishing his potion in disgust – it was not nearly as good as his previous one, he was too angry to concentrate. The sooner he got out of Snape's class the better.
"Oh well," replied Ron, shoving everything into his bag. "You, uh, fancy a game of chess, Harry? We've still got half an hour until lunch starts." Ron looked tentatively at Harry, and Harry was relieved to see the disgust had left his eyes.
"Yeah ok," agreed Harry, brightening up. "But only if you let Hermione help me, she –"
"Potter!" Harry jumped as Snape's voice sounded from above them. "You will accompany myself and Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster's office. Now."
"Yes, Professor," growled Harry, not looking up at Snape. "See you at lunch," he added to Ron and Hermione, grimacing as Snape chivvied him out of the classroom. "At least let me grab my bag!" he exclaimed.
"Get out!" Snape growled in his ear, shoving his bag roughly into his outstretched hands.
"Is everything alright, Severus?" asked McGonagall uncertainly as they made their way up to Dumbledore's office. "Things between you and Mr. Potter seem a little more … strained than usual."
Harry snorted and glared at the back of Snape's head, waiting to hear his reply.
"No, everything is fine, thank you Professor. Potter just felt the need to act up in my lesson –"
"I did not!" defended Harry, not about to sit back and let Snape lie to his head of house. "You were the one who –"
"100 points from Gryffindor, Potter!" snarled Snape, spinning on the spot to turn and glare at Harry. "I warned you, did I not, that I would continue to take points? Shut your mouth or I shall do it for you!" Harry saw Snape's hand twitch towards his wand and took a few steps back, reaching for his own.
"Severus! That's no way to talk to a student! And 100 points to Mr. Potter for taking such abuse! Really!" She glowered at the two of them and Harry avoided her gaze, too angry to guarantee he wouldn't do anything stupid.
After they'd walked a bit further, Harry felt calm enough to talk. "Professor McGonagall? Why does –"
"Quiet, Potter. This does not concern you."
"Well, it obviously does –"
"You two! Really!" She turned to look at them exasperatedly. "I believe Mr. Potter was talking to me, anyway." She looked at him and shook her head. "I do not know, Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore merely asked me to come and get yourself and Professor Snape – a job I would have refused if I had known it would have been this difficult!"
Harry continued the rest of their journey in silence, and soon they were ascending the spiral staircase up to Dumbledore's office. Snape burst through the door without knocking and stalked over to Dumbledore's desk.
"What is the meaning of this, Albus? You interrupt my lesson, you force me to dismiss the students early by calling me up here to –"
"I believe Mr. Malfoy has something he would like to tell you," interrupted Dumbledore calmly, watching Snape closely.
Snape turned to tower over a pale looking Malfoy. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Professor, I, I –" Malfoy stumbled over his words.
"Spit it out, boy!"
Harry was reminded vaguely of his uncle Vernon and shuddered at the thought.
"I cursed Potter."
He'd done what to who now?!
"You did what?" Snape's voice was dangerously low, and Harry momentarily pitied Malfoy.
Momentarily.
"It was me, I cursed him," repeated Malfoy, cowering under Snape's gaze.
"Uh, I'm not cursed," intervened Harry, feeling slightly foolish. At least he hoped he wasn't cursed… He regretted ever speaking a word when Snape turned and towered over him instead.
"You mean to tell me you were not cursed on the Sunday you felt the need to prance around like a cat?!"
"Oh," Harry was beginning to understand. "Wait, that was you?!" He pounced past Snape and flew at Malfoy, falling backwards to the floor as he ran into Dumbledore's transparent shield he'd apparently cast without them realising.
"Please, Harry, calm down."
Harry took a few deep breaths as he sat on the floor, glowering up at Malfoy, who was glaring triumphantly back.
"So, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape silkily, his voice at it's most dangerous. He turned to Dumbledore, ignoring Harry who was sat at his feet. "His punishment?"
"He will not play in this Sunday's quidditch match. The Slytherin team will be required to use their reserve seeker. If you could let them –"
"Yes," barked Snape. "Anything else?"
"No, I don't think so. I'll leave it to you to –"
"Thank you, Headmaster," snarled Snape, grabbing Malfoy's collar and dragging him to his feet. "We'll be going now."
The two of them left the room quickly, Snape slamming the door behind him, leaving Harry, McGonagall and Dumbledore in silence.
"Well, I say," sighed McGonagall, staring at the door in disbelief. "How rude!"
"Harry!" chuckled Dumbledore, standing over Harry and offering him his hand. "Sorry, my boy – I didn't mean to knock you over!"
"S'okay, sir," heaved Harry as he pulled himself up. "Don't worry." He dusted himself off and smiled at his Headmaster – Malfoy was banned from quidditch! He could sing!
"Well, I had hoped to get Mr. Malfoy to apologise to you –"
"And Severus, for that matter! The nerve of that man! 100 points from my own house just because a student spoke!"
'Yes, he's been in a strange mood lately," sighed Dumbledore, glancing worriedly at the door.
"I'll say," muttered Harry grimly.
Dumbledore smiled at him kindly. "I'm sure if you hurry you'll just catch the end of lunch. Thank you for your time, Harry." He nodded at Harry and turned to McGonagall, engaging her in quiet conversation. Harry nodded and turned, his face breaking into a gleeful grin, and he spent the rest of the day feeling elated, much to everyone's confusion.
At the end of Care of Magical Creatures, Harry rushed up to his dormitory, grabbed his quidditch things and was out on the pitch in less than ten minutes; team practice was due to start in twenty. He released the training snitch and spent his time in the air battling with the cold, evening wind. It whipped at his face as he swerved around the goalposts. He dipped and dived and looped and spun and –
"C'mon, Harry! We haven't got all day! Get down here!"
Harry flew to the ground and dismounted next to his teammates.
"Sorry, got a bit caught up," he said sheepishly.
"You're grinning like mad," stated Katie Bell, grinning back at Harry. "What's gotten into you?"
"Just a good day is all." Harry merely grinned even more.
"Good!" cried Wood. "That's exactly what I want to hear! This is our final practice everyone, so lets make it a great one! We're going to do brilliantly in Sunday's match, oh, and guess what I just found out!" Wood looked like he wanted to whoop for joy.
"What, Oliver?" urged Angelina.
"That little rat Draco Malfoy isn't allowed to play! The Slytherin team have to use their reserve seeker, and he's no match for Harry! We've got this game in the bag!"
The news put the Gryffindor team in a great mood, and their practice went like a dream.
Harry was still grinning when he collapsed onto his bed that night, his cheeks starting to ache from the strain they'd been under that day.