News of the recent Dark wizard attack, and subsequent Auror-led triumph, appears in the Daily Prophet on Sunday morning. Harry, however, prefers to avoid discussing his role in Hogsmeade whilst within earshot of anyone outside his inner circle of friends.

"Good on you to have done some job shadowing there," whispers Millicent, while eating at the Slytherin table. "Now, if only someone could organise Sally-Anne and I a trip to a cursed tomb or something."

"Oh, that'd be lovely," says Sally-Anne. "My one uncle's a Curse-Breaking assistant, not the real thing, though. He normally stays back and goes in only once the Curse-Breaker has dealt with some of the worst stuff in their environment."

"I reckon everyone's getting really focused on their life after Hogwarts," says Harry, sweeping his gaze across the Great Hall to eye many a sixth or seventh-year.

Pansy harrumphs. "What do they have to stress about? None of them have to end up fighting a Dark Lord to the death, right? You-Know-Who's gonna be coming after you for the rest of your life, Potter boy."

Knowing full well the danger he's bound to face after Hogwarts, Harry resumes his hectic schedule as the weeks move on. And it's again a fine balance between Quidditch, secret practice, Prefect duties, and academic activities. At least the next Slug Club meeting is only scheduled for late December, which comes as a relief to an otherwise extremely busy Harry.

"I swear, this chick is working on my nerves!" says Tracey, after an evening's Quidditch practice. "Thinks she's special just because she's your first choice Keeper with purple eyes, pfft."

"You can bicker with her all you want, but you have to admit that she's a damn good player in front of goal," says Harry.

A smug Laraline comes strutting up the slopes, with her Nimbus 2000 in hand. "You're damn right that I'm a damn good player, Captain. You hear that, Davis? Even your best buddy admits, again, that I'm the best around."

"Enjoy the fun now, young one." Tracey tilts her nose in the air and grins. "Wait until you start nearing the O.W.L.s and beyond..."

"Oh please, I've got enough help at school and beyond," says Laraline, mimicking Tracey's smug behaviour. "Most of my family was in Slytherin, just so you know again."

Harry merely sniggers as the two girls bicker from the slopes all the way to the dungeons. "You two are going to be best friends for sure."

"Harry m'boy!"

"Oh God, not this guy again," whispers Tracey, sighing as Professor Slughorn discusses Harry's recent Potions assignment with him. Meanwhile, Laraline also observes with folded arms as she stands in the dungeon corridor.

"My cousin used to brown-nose with Snape during her days; nothing wrong with kissing arse for your own benefit. Just, um, don't take that literally, Davis."

"Hilarious, third-year."

"Go do your homework, sixth-year."

Finally, after speaking for well over a few minutes, Harry rejoins the pair of girls as they enter their rather crowded common room. And not a desk in sight is available as many students force themselves to study on this freezing Friday night.

Laraline spots Pansy walking around with a bag of Shock-o-Choc in hand. "Can I have some, Pansy? I couldn't get through the queue at Honeydukes, because the damn store was crowded on my first trip there."

"Okay, sure, but these are quite spicy and shocky," replies Pansy, as she offers a handful of treats to Laraline.

Tracey steals a seat from a younger student while narrowing her eyes in Laraline's direction. "Now she's all sweet, eh? But she's a feisty little shit when it comes to me."

"Hey, guys," says Irma Flint from her spot on a nearby couch. "Who should we be cheering for tomorrow? Gryffindor or Hufflepuff? I'd rather have the Badgers win to keep Gryffindor at the bottom of the log, hahaha!"

One of the fourth-year students looks up from their studies. "What the heck's the schedule? All this work's messing with my head these days."

"Tomorrow: Gryffindor and Hufflepuff; 30th of November: Hufflepuff and Slytherin," says Irma. "We're going to kick arse before Christmas, people!"

Seated with Malfoy and Zabini in a far corner of the room, Theodore Nott now speaks. "You people can play your team on that day, because we all got tons of homework to get through here."

Although Harry's no better off with his own load of work, he accepts the offer and begins planning ahead for the match against Hufflepuff. And, along the way, he makes sure to thoroughly observe both teams throughout their match on Saturday; a terrific contest which ends 250-160 in favour of Team Gryffindor. Then, once they're back in the Slytherin common room, Harry and his team eagerly discuss today's match.

"Okay, so we know that Hufflepuff really wants their first win in three games come our match," says Harry, standing beside the notice board. "And you gotta give their Chasers credit for keeping them in the running so far."

"Yes, Your Majesty," says a nodding Pansy. "But don't think we girls are gonna bend over for stupid Smith and whoever. We're gonna shut that bitch up for all his crap talk about you doing nothing for the war."

"Forget the war; we're talking Quidditch here," says Harry. "How about we check out the log..."

Sally-Anne flips the board and points out the current standings. "Slytherin: 600, Ravenclaw: 530, Hufflepuff: 260, and Gryffindor are last on 250. What a weird table, I must say."

Daphne adopts a thoughtful posture. "We're barely halfway through the Quidditch season and those points are already so high. I wonder if the staff will end up changing things even more to accommodate the House Cup? At this rate, we could end up with Quidditch points over a thousand at the end."

"Yeah," says Millicent. "Even halving it won't be fair on the effort people put in outside of Quidditch; maybe they'll end up quartering it instead?"

There's no point in wondering about such things at the present, and Harry therefore carries on with his academics. So far, he's grateful to have a year that's relatively normal compared to those in the past. There may be a 'war' going on beyond Hogwarts, but Harry knows there's little he can do to address whatever happens beyond this castle.

The 30th of November brings with it a rather frigid match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. And it's one for which Harry's thoroughly prepared his enthusiastic group of players.

"Aspen and Yarrow have already had some game time over the past two matches," says Harry, standing in one corner of the packed (and boisterous) common room. "That's why I'm giving you girls your chance to shine today."

"We're an all-girl team!" says a grinning Pansy. "And yes, you count towards that as well, Harry; you're my girl."

Breakfast proves to be yet another vibrant affair with mostly Hufflepuff, and some Slytherin, colours shimmering across the Great Hall. The sounds of countless folks chatting, forks clanking, spoons scraping, and more than a few hushed talks fill the spacious room on this frosty morning. Looking up, Harry spots as gray a sky as he'd expect which will definitely influence the sighting of the Snitch in one way or another.

"I think it'd be best to cheer for Hufflepuff today," says a fourth-year Ravenclaw girl, as her group passes by Harry at the Great Hall's doors. "After all, Neville Longbottom's made it pretty clear that Harry Potter's never joining us in the Duelling Group. 'He cares far too much for things like Quidditch over real life', is what I heard from Longbottom's pals too."

Eventually, Harry hears two familiar voices nearing the doors from the Entrance Hall outside:

"—it's true! I don't understand why he does the things he does."

"You can argue as much as you'd like, but I don't wanna hear you insulting Quidditch and those who play it, okay?"

"But I don't have a problem with your sport! It's when people give up useful extracurricular time to go flying brooms and throwing balls that's annoying."

"I figured you'd say something like that, considering you still suck on a broom."

Harry keeps low by pretending to tie his shoelaces just as Ginny and Neville enter the Great Hall.

"Why can't more people put this much effort into my group?" asks Neville, observing the mass of Quidditch support. "We've only got about 60 or so students, I think."

Ginny lets out a loud groan. "That's double what Harry had in the D.A. You really need to learn to be appreciative of what you've got—Wait a minute..." She immediately darts her gaze to the exuberant Hufflepuff table where Smith and his team celebrate their new gifts. "Now this is quite unexpected."

"You see? This is exactly what upsets me nowadays!" says Neville in the centre of the aisle. "Instead of saving up their money for buying shielded clothing or wand holsters or whatever, they go and buy... what are those ones?"

"Nimbus 2000's, just like Team Gryffindor has, argh!" Ginny places her arms on her hips and rolls her eyes. "You can at least try and distinguish between different brooms."

Neville shakes his head and walks towards the Gryffindor table. "Who cares about flying and Quidditch these days, anyway"

Harry certainly does care, and he soon takes his usual spot at the Slytherin table. "New brooms or not, they don't stand a chance against us, right?"

"Yeah! We got new Nimbus 2001's anyway," says Sally-Anne. "But, um, it's still our first real match as a team."

"Never forget that your brooms can do 0-100 miles per hour in about eight seconds, and that it goes up to around 120 max," says Harry, filling his plate with a variety of foods for breakfast. "The Nimbus 2000 does about 0-80 in ten seconds and goes up to 100 max." Upon finishing his breakfast, Harry exits the castle then makes his way to the Quidditch stadium. And it takes just about ten minutes for everyone to change into their Quidditch uniforms while their Captain awaits. "Are you ladies all set?"

Laraline nods and adjusts her Keeper's helmet. "Five sixth-years and two third-years; aren't we a special team?"

"Special enough to get brand new brooms from our Captain!" says an excited Irma. "But why didn't you get us each a Firebolt instead?"

Millicent speaks in defence of Harry. "And let everyone compare us to last year's team? No thanks, little Flint."

"We're starting in five minutes," says Sally-Anne. "Make sure to polish your brooms before heading out to kick arse."

Pansy grabs the Firebolt and grins. "May I do your broom, Captain?"

"As much as you want."

The manner in which Pansy polishes the Firebolt, while looking at Harry, elicits much giggles around the locker room. However, all jokes are soon dropped as Harry finalises today's game plan on the blackboard.

"Millicent and Sally-Anne, I'd rather you play like Derrick and Bole than Crabbe and Goyle, got it? You girls are smart enough to not mindlessly smack around those Bludgers..."

Sally-Anne kicks her feet up on her bench and smiles. "We're smarter and way prettier than those two trolls."

"...you three Chasers seemed pretty promising in practice, so bring that to the air today..."

"Yeah," says Irma, sitting with a confident expression upon her face. "They're all gonna fear the name of Flint again!"

"...Pansy and Daphne, well, just synchronise yourselves as usual." Harry now looks at a slightly nervous Laraline. "And as for you, Keeper, never underestimate our opponents—even if it's funny as hell to diss their House. One thing you should know is that Hufflepuffs aren't as stupid and weak as people might say."

"I know that," mutters Laraline. "But that doesn't mean I'm scared of them."

Next up comes the tactical discussions before Team Slytherin lines up in their tunnel. And, once again, the stadium's abuzz with tumultuous cheers, chants, and all manner of noise on this bitterly cold Saturday morning.

"You can't have a team of girls and then not kiss them good luck, Captain," says Pansy in the tunnel. "So, do your duty and get moving."

Harry kisses each of his teammates, even the amused third-years, on their cheeks as per Pansy's orders. "There, you ladies happy now?"

"Only if we dominate this match and shut all the whispers up," says Millicent. "Do you have any idea how much is being said around the common room behind your back? People are questioning your team selection, Harry."

"Nobody questions my presence on this team," says Laraline.

"Good, good..." Harry pats her on the shoulder as they file out the tunnel. "Keep that confidence for when it's time to make those saves."

"Good morning, everyone; today we'll be having a Quidditch match between teams Hufflepuff and Slytherin..."

The entire Team Slytherin (and most of the stadium) stares towards the commentary box where Luna Lovegood sits behind the magical megaphone. She might be a welcome addition to Harry's circle of friends, but even he's hesitant to have her on commentary duty.

"...coming onto the field on Hufflepuff's side, with their new Nimbus 2000 brooms, is Zacharias Smith as Captain—and he's joined by another two Chasers..."

A sigh can be heard in the background as an uncomfortable McGonagall corrects Luna on the names. "Chester Inkwell and Eurig Cadwallader, and the Beaters are Michael McManus and Joseph Stebbins."

"Well, they are very large, aren't they? I reckon that'll make them strong hitters but also better targets for the opposition's Beaters—"

"Just finish the introductions already, Lovegood," says McGonagall, as both teams stand in the centre of the field. "Hufflepuff's Keeper is Rosamond Staghart, and their Seeker is Steven Summerby."

"That's Team Hufflepuff, and now let's take a look at their opponents..." says Luna.

More seconds pass by with Harry patiently awaiting the introduction of Team Slytherin, and it doesn't help that Smith quickly points out the obvious to his teammates.

"You see? I told you Potter will put all his pals ahead of the rest."

Harry snorts with a laugh. "Nice broom, Smith; too bad I flew that back in my first year already."

"No bickering!" warns Madam Hooch while standing between the teams. "Why are these introductions taking so damn long today? It's not that difficult to name fourteen players."

"...oh, and I see that Harry Potter has brought his friends along for today's match; that's very good," says Luna quite serenely over the megaphone. "He's quite a nice person too; no wonder I see his team consisting of Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass and Irma Flint as Chasers. Oh, and I think Irma will be looking to live up to the reputation of her brother, Marcus; he was a very good Chaser who graduated a few years ago. Harry's chosen Beaters are Sally-Anne Perks and Millicent Bulstrode, and their Keeper is... I think that's Laraline Larch."

"It is Larch, Lovegood," says McGonagall. "Who else can it be?"

"And, of course, Slytherin's Seeker for today is none other than Harry Potter himself. He played Keeper last time, but this is his preferred position in the game. I think the only time Harry's ever been beaten to the Golden Snitch was a few years ago by Viktor Krum himself. But that was a struggle even for the famous Krum who kept his Beaters chasing Harry throughout the match. Slytherin won that game, though, so Krum wasn't the true winner."

"I can't stand this commentary!" says Smith, standing opposite Harry in the centre of the field. "Who in their right mind thought she's an acceptable commentator?"

"Who in their right mind thought you're an acceptable Captain?" asks Harry.

"It's about damn time, I say." Madam Hooch orders the Captains to shake hands as she releases the Snitch, Bludgers, and throws up the Quaffle to get things going.

"Don't you people hang out more than enough already?" asks Smith, just as Pansy beats him to the Quaffle.

"And it looks like Smith is perhaps taunting Pansy Parkinson in the air," says Luna in her usual calm tone. "Well, that didn't exactly work and now it's all three Slytherin Chasers going forward with the Quaffle. You can see they're good friends, because Pansy and Daphne are reading each other's movements and ideas so well in the air. I wonder if Smith is feeling very silly for his actions as the Quaffle is passed to Flint... who's just scored."

"Ahem, ten-zero," says McGonagall beside her.

Harry can't help but smile while hovering in search of the Snitch, and his expression turns to a laugh once Pansy scores the next goal.

"Cadwa-something of Hufflepuff couldn't stop Pansy from scoring," says Luna. "I do like Pansy, she's quite nice... I think she's the Ginny Weasley of Slytherin in some ways."

Luna's commentary elicits much laughter from nearly the entire crowd gathered here today.

Pansy gawks at the commentary box while flying past Harry. "What the flip?"

"Just take it in stride, man," says Harry.

"I'm not Ginny Weasley; I'm the much improved, and sexier, version of that chick—duh!" Pansy gives a satisfied smirk and rejoins her fellow Chasers in the centre of the pitch.

"...looks like they're playing for the Quaffle again, and the Beaters have joined the action as well. Sally-Anne and Millicent are working very well together to stave off the Bludgers sent by the Hufflepuffs—"

"McManus and Stebbins," says McGonagall.

"—yes, McManus and Stebbins are their names. But they're struggling a bit, it seems, as the Slytherin Chasers have moved forward yet again. And it's another goal, this time put in by Daphne Greengrass who's also very likable. She's got a little sister, Astoria, who she often tutors in the library or their common room; that's quite lovely..."

Luna carries on discussing Harry's friends until being reminded to actually commentate again.

"Now it's forty to nothing in favour of Harry Potter's side after Flint's scored again. Some might say they're doing well because of the advantage of Nimbus 2001's over Hufflepuff's Nimbus 2000's, but that's not right. They're succeeding due to Harry prioritising Quidditch over other activities—like Neville Longbottom's Duelling Group."

A loud range of boos comes from various sections of the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor stands at these words. No doubt Neville's actually got his supporters around the school these days.

"I can understand why some might choose to boo Harry Potter, but you have to respect his commitment to Quidditch as well. Not everyone wants to spend many Saturdays practicing duelling and being overly competitive—"

"Lovegood," sighs McGonagall, while Harry sees her tapping Luna on the arm. "They've scored again."

"Oh, right, it's another goal from Pansy for Slytherin. This puts them on fifty to their opponent's zero points."

It takes another four Slytherin goals until Zacharias Smith finally begins to read their tactics.

"Hufflepuff are playing better now, although I'd guess it's the constant losing that's motivating them out here," says Luna. "They've lost two games and already started this one quite poorly against Harry's own team. But it looks like the Quaffle is finally within Hufflepuff's scoring area around the Slytherin goalposts. Now Codwallder takes a good throw which is nicely saved by Larch."

From what Harry hears while searching for the Snitch, Smith leads each and every charge down the flanks towards goal; the Hufflepuffs resembling blurs of yellow as they streak across the pitch. Soon, both sides struggle to break through their opponent's defences until Chester Inkwell gets off a shot towards Slytherin's left hoop.

"No goal for Hufflepuff yet," says Luna. "Slytherin's Keeper really is as good as her friends like to say."

The match continues, and Harry's side receives a boost in Slytherin cheers once Pansy scores yet again. Even those harbouring much scorn towards Harry's nepotism can't fault him on the score line thus far: one hundred to zero against a resurgent Hufflepuff side.

"All six Chasers are now playing near the far left corner of the pitch. Look at them really go for the Quaffle..."

"That's what Chasers are meant to do," mutters McGonagall near the megaphone (causing much laughter yet again).

"...it's that tall Hufflepuff player who's got it now—"

"Inkwell, Lovegood!"

"—and he passes to Cadwadaller near the Hufflepuff goalposts." Luna seems to be enjoying herself at the megaphone. "The Quaffle is now in the hands of Hufflepuff's Keeper, the only girl on their team, who passes to Smith..."

Just as everyone expects her to commentate on the swift Hufflepuff attack, Luna ends up staring at the skies above.

"That was a slight drizzle; I think it's going to start raining now."

Rain? Harry glances up and eventually gets hit in the face by hard, freezing droplets.

"Smith calls a time-out, and I guess Harry would have done the same anyway," says Luna.

Taking the opportunity to debrief his girls, Harry lands on the slippery grass near the Slytherin stands.

"What gives?" asks Pansy, huddling beneath a large umbrella with the rest of the team. "Goddamnit, it's cold!"

Harry kicks at the icy grass. "This ain't just any rain; it's freezing rain. You ladies need to split your attention between the match, your positioning, and your broom itself. For the first, watch out for any new tricks being tried by the Hufflepuffs; tougher jostling, for example. For the second, try to come at your opponents from above in order to make them look up into the rain. And for the third, these droplets will turn icy once they land on your broomstick, so be aware and don't lose your grip. No fancy rolls and stuff-—unless you're me, of course—out in this weather, alright?"

"I've played in worse conditions before," says Laraline. "Those Hufflepuffs better not think to try and swoop down for goal on me."

"It's getting tricky to maintain a firm grip on these bats," admits Sally-Anne.

Millicent gives her one a test swing as well. "Wait until a Bludger comes at you with bits of ice on it... tricky as hell to aim properly."

The downpour of frozen rain grows worse by the minute, and the onset of a stormy wind means Harry's unable to hear Luna's commentary at all. He does, however, hear the blast of Madam Hooch whistle just five minutes later after Hufflepuff have finally scored.

Seconds later sees a livid Laraline picking herself up from the ground as Harry approaches.

"The hell?"

"Foul by Inkwell," says Laraline, wiping off bits of ice from her robes. "Jerk barged right into me after scoring that cheap arse goal. You go take the penalty for revenge, Captain."

"Watch me score!" Harry speeds forward, from the centre of the pitch, then eventually outwits the broad-shouldered Staghart to score through Hufflepuff's left hoop.

However, more goals soon come against Slytherin as Hufflepuff's Chasers exploit their superior physique to barge through Harry's girls. And once the score has reached 110-50, Smith taunts Harry during the latter's search near the Ravenclaw stands.

"Rookie mistake, Potter. There's no balance between speed, skill, and strength in your team... because they're all girls."

"Ever heard of the Holyhead Harpies? Now, piss off and enjoy your cheap advantage before my chicks spread their wings again." Harry flies off to resume his search for any hint of gold through the downpour of freezing rain.

Another blast of the whistle can be heard just as Irma's rammed off her broom by Cadwallader.

"BLATCHING FOUL!" yells Madam Hooch through the battering rain. "PENALTY TO SLYTHERIN!"

It's an easy ten points as Daphne puts her penalty practice to good use, and Slytherin now stands on 120 to Hufflepuff's 50. But, yet again, Smith persists in having his boys play their excessively physical game in such torrential conditions.

"These fuckers are basically playing more rugby than Quidditch!" yells Pansy, after narrowly avoiding a deliberate shoulder-charge by Inkwell (which Madam Hooch fails to see). "All they're doing is giving away penalties while hurting us in the process. Hey, you two Beaters, do your job and bash them with Bludgers!"

Sally-Anne groans while flying past Pansy. "We're trying, okay? How about you see what it's like to have a slippery broomstick and bat to grip!"

"This rain's a nightmare when it hits!" says Millicent nearby.

Another goal by Smith makes it 60 on Hufflepuff's side, and Harry immediately slams his hand on his icy broom. "You girls wanna see rough? I'll show you rough!" He proceeds to dive from the air in mock pursuit of the Golden Snitch which causes Summerby to give chase.

CRASH!

Hufflepuff's Seeker collides, with a sickening thud, into a patch of icy grass.

"It's all fair," says Harry, while Madam Hooch assesses the downed Summerby. "There's nothing wrong with a Feint, is there?"

Zacharias Smith lands and almost slips while sprinting towards his injured player. "What's going on here? Wronski Feint!?"

"Potter, as skilful as that move was, I wouldn't advise using it again today," says Madam Hooch.

"Well, there's no opponent left to trick." True to Harry's words, Summerby is placed onto a conjured stretcher and taken to the Hospital Wing by a fuming Smith, as well as Madam Hooch. This leaves Harry to be accosted by the rest of Team Hufflepuff while the game's brought to a halt.

"You did that on purpose just because my team was manhandling your flimsy excuse for girls!" says Staghart.

"Cowardly move in this weather, 'Captain'!" adds McManus, brandishing his bat in a most threatening manner. "If your girls can't take it, then Quidditch ain't for them."

"Sorry, can't hear you folks over this loud rain," says Harry. "I, uh, have anti-bullshit enchantments in my ears."

Stebbins gathers his teammates in a huddle near the centre of the field. "Leave that selfish brat and let's have a tactical discussion instead!"

It takes nearly ten minutes for Madam Hooch to return with Smith and resume today's match. And with Hufflepuff down their most important player, Smith makes a surprising change of tactics:

"McManus and Stebbins, focus everything on Slytherin's Chasers and Keeper! Let's score as many goals as possible to climb the log."

"Motherf—" Harry gathers Millicent and Sally-Anne then whispers for them to focus on Smith himself, whenever possible.

"Chase that Snitch on your own then," says Smith to Harry. "But just you watch how we rack up the goals in the process."

"Je m'en fous, vous fils de pute."

"And just what is that supposed to mean, Potter?"

Exasperated by Smith's annoying attitude, Harry kicks off from the icy grass and ascends (against the rain) at over 100mph to search above the stadium. Finally, he's able to take a deep breath and enjoy the tranquillity of being alone up here; no booing crowd nor obnoxious Smith.

Time for a quick drink.

Harry grins upon knowing that casting spells is, usually, classified as cheating in Quidditch. But since nobody can see him once he ascends even further, Harry draws his wand and takes aim into his own mouth.

Aguamenti.

It takes a fair bit of concentration to contain the jet of water to just a light spurt, and Harry now quenches his thirst in the sneakiest of ways before resuming his search. Then, after fifteen minutes have passed, he descends in a gradual dive until spotting a glimmer of gold high above the stadium.

Whether from the superiority of his broom or his excessive flying practice in preparation for Snape's lessons (or both), Harry scoops up the Snitch after a surprisingly short chase above the stadium. Oddly enough, even the rain appears to have faded to a (still freezing) drizzle as Harry descends with the Golden Snitch held high.

"... and that's it for today's match!" says a cheerful Luna. "Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch while searching near those clouds, one of which almost resembles a Blibbering Humdinger. Our final score is therefore Hufflepuff losing on 100 to Slytherin's total of 290! Harry's new team has certainly played decent enough against their more experienced opponents today..."

"WOOOO! WE WON, WE WON, WE WON!" cheers Pansy, as her team lands and races to get freshened up in the locker room. From all around outside, the cheers of many Slytherin supporters drown out the pattering of drizzle against the stadium's stands. However, not everyone shares the elation of today's victory—as is noted by Sally-Anne slamming her locker shut.

"What's gotten into you?" asks a bemused Harry.

"We went from being on 100-0, at one point, to ending up on 140-100 when you caught the Snitch!" Sally-Anne frowns in disappointment. "So much for being the Chosen One's handpicked team..."

"Now you're just being too hard on yourself," says Harry. "This was your first real game as a team, so monter sur ses grands chevaux."

Pansy giggles and nods. "Uh-huh, you tell Sally-Anne that she's acting like an ungrateful baby, Potter boy."

"I just thought we would dominate like Slytherin's first match this year," says Sally-Anne.

Millicent chimes in with her opinion. "There wasn't a Cormac McLaggen wrecking Hufflepuff, was there? No offense to Harry, but Nott's team got lucky on matchday one."

"All that matters is that we won today," says Laraline, after freshening up in the showers. "Let's go laugh at the Hufflepuffs, Irma."

"Count me in!"

Harry watches, in amusement, as the two third-years strut out their locker room and exit the tunnel. "Take a cue from those two and be happy, Sally-Anne."

November turns to a snowy December as the end of term draws closer by each week. This is evidenced by the countless Christmas decorations having been organised and put up around the school by its staff. But for Harry, however, he carries on with his routine regardless of the ever-increasing festive atmosphere around the castle. As the first week of December concludes, Harry completes yet another discreet lesson with Snape—and he's one step closer to attempting unsupported flight someday.

Speaking of flight, Harry also sneaks in a few surprising practice sessions with Cho Chang in private; he certainly does enjoy the Head Girl's company at times.

Between keeping up with his remaining classes, having to spectate an upcoming Quidditch match, and preparing for Slughorn's Christmas party, Harry knows that he has a fairly busy December ahead. In addition, Harry also notes the decent improvements made by his group of girls during their secretive practice in the Room of Requirement.

"I think we should start getting more offensive in January," says Harry, after their meeting on Thursday, the 12th. "Any luck getting to commentate on this weekend's match, Luna?"

"No," she replies. "A lot of people said I was dreadful and biased, remember? And Zacharias Smith is all too happy to get behind the megaphone again."

"Right, right, that stupid jerk..." mutters Harry, grumbling insults towards Smith all throughout the next few minutes.

On the eve of Gryffindor's match against Ravenclaw, Harry heads to the library for some light reading after dinner. But he barely gets in an hour's worth of studying before falling asleep in this secluded back area. Then, probably over half an hour later, he awakes to the feeling of having a blanket wrapped around him.

"Oh, Harry, the amount of times I've had to conjure something to keep you warm..."

Looking up from his table, Harry spots a smiling Hermione having taken a seat right beside him. And, once again, their table's soon flooded by her many textbooks and parchments.

"Nice to see you too, stranger Granger," says a snugly-wrapped Harry (whose head is basically the only thing sticking out the baby blue blanket). "What's with this colour anyway?"

Hermione simply shrugs. "First thing that came to mind, really. Alright, less talking and more studying—but don't expect me to wake you up again."

The irony of these words is not lost on Harry as he spots Hermione dozing off just about two hours later. Now the former grins in amusement upon waking Hermione up with a kiss on the cheek, and a shake of the shoulders. "Hey, it's not that hard... so keep that bit of light reading going."

"Well, sorry if my textbook doesn't come with easy-to-follow instructions from its former owner."

They study in serene silence right up until the library closes, then it's off to bed followed by a clear (but cold) Saturday morning. Now the Great Hall is abuzz with excitement between supporters of red and gold, and blue and bronze. And seeing as Cho is set to be playing Seeker today, Harry jogs to catch up with Hermione on their way down the slippery slopes.

"Good morning! Are you feeling any better than your groggy self last night?"

Harry nods. "I wanted to ask how far you've come with reversing Marietta's scars."

"Oh, that..." Hermione sighs and shakes her head. "You must understand that I hardly have any spare time to be deconstructing my parchment jinx, but I'll try to continue where I've left off."

"Good, because there's nothing sexy about having a bunch of scarry, traitorous pimples across one's face."

"As opposed to a lightning scar? Come on, I know you were going to say that," says an amused Hermione.

Uncaring for the opinions of any prejudiced passersby, Harry wraps his arms around Hermione as they walk side-by-side towards the Quidditch stadium. They do, however, eventually split up to take their spots in their respective House stands once the game commences.

Chaser-wise, it's a battle mostly in favour of Team Gryffindor as Dean, Demelza, and Seamus link up their plays with admirable skill. It also helps that their team has long since reverted to its usual Keeper, Ron Weasley, as well. But there's no denying that Ginny's Beaters are her team's weakest link, and that there simply hasn't been any replacing the talent gap left by Fred and George.

"We've reached 130 for Gryffindor, and 70 for Ravenclaw thus far," says the annoyingly obnoxious voice of Zacharias Smith. "And now it's Ravenclaw on the attack as their Chasers—Carrington, Chambers, and Bradley—push forward with the Quaffle..."

From Harry's view in the Slytherin stands, he watches as Ravenclaw's attack ends up swiftly blocked by Ron at the hoops.

"Weasley's good, but we'll beat him when it's us against them again," says Pansy beside Harry. "Why aren't you agreeing with me?"

"Yeah, sure, I agree."

"Good." Pansy wraps her arms around Harry as they continue to spectate the game unfolding before them. "I can't wait for the day when we can actually spend Christmas together, and I'm not talking about being at school."

"Yeah, well, there's a Dark Lord standing in the way of that," says Harry, returning the gesture by wrapping an arm around Pansy. "Shall I serve on you for the next week, ma'am?"

Pansy tilts her nose in the air. "You shouldn't even be asking."

Nearly half an hour later sees the battle for the Snitch unfold, and it's Ginny against Cho in the air today. Although some might argue in favour of Ginny having the superior talent, even Harry agrees that Cho's absolutely no slouch in the air.

"Yeah, you would defend Cho, huh?" whispers a sniggering Pansy. "Tell me how it felt to walk around as a girl."

"Not this again," sighs a blushing Harry, but Pansy doesn't let up yet.

"Heh, I'm so gonna try some Polyjuice fun when we're married someday, Harry boy." She grins as mischievously as ever. "Let's see how you like being me being screwed by you."

Harry gasps at the thought of being Pansy while she takes on his appearance. "What? That's just weird!"

"Uh, hello? This is the wizarding world, remember? I've always wanted to screw a girl, and I suppose that includes even myself as well. Anyway, if you think gender swapping each other is weird, well, clearly you've never seen the shit that goes down in Knockturn Alley."

After watching Seamus score past Anthony Goldstein, Harry turns to look at Pansy. "Enlighten me, oh princess of Slytherin House."

"Queen, Harry, get it right! From this day forth, I'm the Queen of Slytherin. Anyway, my mom told me that some people like to demand tribute and do crap in Knockturn Alley." Pansy shudders at the thought. "For example: if you end up there as a kid, then they might let you go on condition of giving up something. What do you think a bunch of depraved Dark witches and wizards might do with the hairs, nails, or any other DNA samples of underage kids? Hell, you get people that sell such stuff on the black market; ten minutes to twelve hours of doing who knows what with Polyjuice."

"Yeah, I know they collect stuff from anybody, really," says Harry.

Pansy agrees. "I just hope nobody smuggles my DNA on the black market when I'm famous and second-in-command at the Ministry."

"No worries, your Chosen Auror will just pay the scum a visit and throw a few Cruciatus Curses around." Harry smiles at Pansy. "Some excruciating torture ought to change their minds about smuggling my ladies for sex and stuff."

Blurs of red and blue zip past the Slytherin stands as Cho takes the lead with her Nimbus 2001, although Ginny refuses to let up.

"Chang's a fair bit better in the air lately," says Daphne nearby, to which Harry agrees.

"Yeah, I reckon she must've gotten some crazy practice to not give Ginny an easy victory."

Ten minutes later, Cho narrowly beats Ginny to the Golden Snitch and swipes it up near the staff stands.

"Whoops," says a softly laughing Harry. "I, uh, might have helped her a bit too much over the past couple of weeks."

"And... that's it!" says Smith over the magical megaphone. "Cho Chang has beaten Ginny Weasley to the 150 points, and our final score is therefore Gryffindor: 190, and Ravenclaw ending on 240 here."

Jeers and applause come from the Slytherin stands as they simply cannot resist the age-old rivalry with Gryffindor, regardless of Harry's friendliness towards Godric's House. And once everyone's either returned to their common rooms or headed out elsewhere, Harry spends the rest of his day catering to a smug Pansy's demands.

This trend continues into the final week of term where Pansy refuses to attend Slughorn's Christmas party. "I'm not going no matter what you say."

Harry sighs while massaging Pansy's back as she lays topless on her bed. "You could make some valuable connections for when you eventually enter the Ministry."

"Has it occurred to you that Slughorn's big on inviting the press?" Pansy sits up and doesn't bother covering herself at all. "I don't want You-Know-Who seeing pictures which could make him angry at my mom, Harry."

"You used to call him by his name."

"Well, that was before he was really back!" Pansy flicks her hair over her shoulders and frowns. "That guy's a narcissistic mess, as you might be aware of. What if You-Know-Who sees me enjoying myself with you at Slughorn's party then decides to, I dunno, give my mom a stupidly hard mission or something?"

"Voldemort's got other priorities, I'm sure," insists Harry. "Do you really think he even cares about what you're doing at school? We've been pals for how long again?"

Pansy shakes her head so determinedly that her hair swishes side-to-side. "I'm not taking any chances; this is the fricken Dark Lord we're talking about!"

"Guys, calm down over there," says Tracey, reading her textbook on her bed. "Harry, how about you quit hounding Pansy and rather play with her tits or something?"

Sally-Anne snorts while drinking her goblet of juice. "Yeah, Harry, stop unsettling Pansy and rather bang each other right here for our entertainment."

Ignoring the pair's remarks, Harry places his palms on Pansy's smooth, but firm, shoulders. "Are you absolutely sure you don't want to attend that Christmas party with me?"

She nods and returns to laying prone on her emerald duvet. "Just take Granger; Heaven knows our beloved Muggleborn could use those connections at the party."

"She's going whether or not I invite her," says Harry. "Fine, I'll just have to ask someone else then." He turns to look around the room but finds the rest of the girls shaking their heads.

"I prefer my own ambitions in life, and preferably without having to owe it to Ol' Sluggy in the future," says Millicent.

Daphne agrees. "The biggest no-no for me is having to return the favour if Slughorn sets you up in life. I don't wanna be indebted to some student-collecting old codger."

Harry pampers Pansy well until bedtime, and he can't help but feel absolute pity for his beloved before drifting off to sleep. In the morning, she repays him with her own massage which quickly turns raunchy until it's time for breakfast.

"Damn, you really know how to work those lovely hands," says Harry.

"Yes, and these lovely hands will haul your arse outta bed if you don't start moving."

Breakfast proves to be a festive affair followed by an entire morning's worth of free periods for Harry and Pansy. For the former, however, a free morning does little to find him a suitable partner for Slughorn's party tomorrow.

"Everywhere I go, it's like these girls wanna dope me on Love Potions or something," says Harry, walking alongside Pansy down a corridor. "Who the hell am I gonna invite tomorrow that's actually sane in the head?"

"What about Granger?"

"Nah, she thought I was taking someone else and therefore chose Ronald so he doesn't feel left out." Harry chuckles at his luck. "Hey, why don't I just ask Ginny to come with?"

Pansy scoffs. "Didn't you say she was dropped from the last few meetings?"

"Oh, right," sighs Harry. "There wasn't anything left to pique Slughorn's interest in her anymore. The Bat-Bogey Hex's novelty has worn off, not to mention Gryffindor's average performance in the Quidditch season thus far."

"Then think outside the box, Potter baby; the 'box' being this castle's perimeter, that is."

"Of course!" Harry snaps his fingers and kisses Pansy on her forehead. "How could I be so silly?"

"You've honed that skill quite well thus far."

Beaming in delight, Harry returns to his dormitory and retrieves his two-way mirror to explain his predicament to Sirius.

"If most of the girls are trying to dope you with Love Potions for a date, then just ask a guy to the party."

"I don't swing that way, Sirius, and I think everyone knows that by now." Harry can't help but smile upon picturing his intended partner. "Ask that beauty sitting nearby if she'd like to be my date for tomorrow."

"Hey, Tonks, I think Harry wants you to be his date for Slughorn's Christmas party."

Harry gawks at his laughing godfather in the mirror. "What the f— I meant Fleur!"

"Oh, I'd love to go out with the Chosen One!" says a sniggering Tonks, while sitting in the Three Broomsticks. "Can I get his autograph?"

"Zis Slughorn man and 'is parties sounds vairy nice, yes," says Fleur somewhere in the background, "but I theenk Neemphadora should go with because eet is funny as 'ell!"

Harry can but only watch as Sirius lifts the mirror to show both Fleur and Tonks clutching at their sides while cackling with laughter. "You folks are unbelievable."

"See you tomorrow, leetle Harry!" says a waving Tonks, after which Sirius politely ends the call in order to resume his outdoor patrols.

A startled Pansy sits, open-mouthed, on her bed following Harry's conversation. "Wow, now that's a festive prank indeed. Do you really think Nymphadora Tonks is going to follow up on this thing? Isn't she about seven years older than us?"

"Oh well, this is the wizarding world, remember?" Harry stores the mirror in his trunk and shakes his head at having been pranked like this. "Nice one, Sirius."