With the rest of the team finalising tonight's celebrations, Harry hurriedly heads to the common room. Any compliments or adulation are told to be 'kept for tonight' as he races to his empty dormitory.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He scans over various sections of the school, zooming in and out until settling upon the Gryffindor common room.

"Come on, where are you? Hmm... Fay Dunbar, Eloise Midgen, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Percy Weasley, Peter Pettigrew..." He sighs, unable to find Ginny's name in the common room amidst its many students. Racking his brains, Harry tries to guess where she'd be around this time—otherwise he'd have to send a school owl with an anonymous note. He therefore zooms out and views a larger section of school. "Aha! Owlery, eh? Well, it's ninja time."

Since Harry needs to keep track of Ginny's movements on the Map, he decides upon using his Invisibility Cloak to sneak out the Slytherin common room.

"Aaa!" gasps Astoria Greengrass on the couch.

"What?" asks Daphne, seated beside and tutoring her younger sister.

"The door just opened by itself, I swear."

"Hmm." Daphne's eyes narrow before she shakes her head. "What's he up to now? Um, it was nothing really."

"But how did it just open like that?" asks Astoria, staring wide-eyed at the now shut door.

"Relax, and let's forget about that. Hogwarts can be weird, huh? Anyway, you were going to show me your Mending Charm..."

With Marauder's Map in hand, Harry tracks Ginny throughout the Owlery at the top of Hogwarts' West Tower. He soon uses the fourth-floor corridor but spots Ginny coincidentally headed his way.

"Mischief Managed."

He tucks the parchment away, pulls off his cloak, and stands against a nearby wall in the deserted corridor. A guilty smile crosses Harry's face upon seeing Ginny stomping towards him.

"You..."

Harry laughs. "Yes, me."

She walks right up to him and grabs the front of his jacket. "Tricky, lying, deceiving, cheating Slytherin!"

Before Ginny can proceed with the insults, Harry suddenly wraps the Cloak snugly around her.

"Is this an Invisibil—"

"Footsteps, shoosh! Might as well see how it feels to be invisible."

Ginny obeys, and she's absolutely fascinated by Harry's Cloak as Ron approaches.

"Potter! What are you doing here, you lousy cheater?"

"What are you doing here, Ronald?"

"Was gonna owl mum and ask her not to invite a cheater like you to our house ever again. Seriously, why'd you do that?"

Harry knows that Ginny's listening nearby, since she'd never have the heart to steal his Cloak.

"Because as much as Malfoy can be a git, that was his first match today."

"So? Chang had him right there until you intervened, and don't even get me started on those Chaser skills you hid from us. Foul play indeed."

"You don't know him like I do; Malfoy was under immense pressure from his father. It's bad enough that Hermione keeps beating him at every academic thing—"

"Like I care," says Ron.

"—so I took a chance today. Yeah, that Plumpton Pass was a really dirty cheating thing to do, but it was legal the way I did it."

Ron laughs dryly. "Don't try and justify what should have been Slytherin ending on eighty today."

"Do you know what it's like to have your parents watch your first Quidditch match?" asks Harry.

"Well, I haven't played yet, and dad's always at work while mum's too busy at home. So, no, can't say that I do. Why do you care?"

"I'll never get that opportunity. So the least I could've done is ensure that Malfoy can meet up with happy, perhaps proud, parents today. And if it meant playing dirty, then so be it."

"Fine, have it your way, Potter. I won't send that letter."

Harry rolls his eyes. "I didn't say you shouldn't send it, just don't blame me if you get a Howler in return."

"Alright, blimey, I get it." Ron turns around and decides to head back to the Grand Staircase.

"You can come out now, uh, wherever you are. Where are you anyway? Ginny? Oh for Heaven's sake, the Cloak's a lot less fun when it's being used against me..."

He searches throughout this section of the fourth-floor corridor until finally feeling it at waist height behind him. After pulling it off, Harry looks down at a grinning Ginny sitting against a wall.

"Haha, you found me."

"Of course, I came here just for you. How about I make this short and sweet: please beat Cedric Diggory in March."

Ginny appears quite taken aback. "Well, of course I'm going to beat him even though he's so much taller than me..."

"Let's make a deal: how about we fly against each other each week? I could use some Seeker practice after all," says Harry.

"But when? People are going to get suspicious."

"Just pick a late afternoon and head to the pitch around 4; I'll know you're there."

"How?"

"I have my ways, little Miss Weasley."

"Deal! But will you use the Firebolt? That'll be so awesome!"

Harry sighs. "I'm still waiting for it to be returned, so don't get your hopes up."

And with that, Harry heads to the Great Hall for dinner before being the star of a deafening party in the common room. Here, students of all years flood into the room where things are, fortunately, child-friendly.

"NO KISSING, NO BANGING, NO DRINKING, KEEP IT COOL... OR ELSE!" warns the Prefects (including Yasmin) as they patrol the crowded room.

"SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP! SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP! SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP!" chants Flint, who's managed to organise food from the kitchens below.

Celebrations continue right up until eleven o'clock as Snape finally enters the common room. With a wave of his wand, he shuts off the wireless and ushers everyone to get freshened up for the night.

Between Harry's weekly anti-dementor classes, ever increasing workload, Quidditch practice, and flying with Ginny, he truly feels the mounting pressure. Homework is left for two nights of the week, and Harry wonders how he would've coped without his five girls. Even worse is the lack of contact with Hermione, who he once again only sees in Potions and Hagrid's class. So busy is Harry that he often bolts out his lessons as soon as the bell sounds. And not once does he wonder why Hermione's often speaking to Hagrid after each class.

February soon arrives and Gryffindor absolutely hammers Ravenclaw in Quidditch. By the time Ginny decides to catch the Snitch, the match ends 220-90 to Gryffindor. But all celebrations are cut short by news of Sirius Black having entered their common room, seemingly attacking Ron's bed. This only serves to reinforce people's opinions of Black being a simple madman without a real cause, as Harry Potter's clearly not in Gryffindor.

With one game left, Slytherin totals 490 while Gryffindor sits on 340. Ravenclaw are essentially out of the Cup, and Hufflepuff sits on 110 with two games in hand; their next match against Gryffindor on the first Saturday of March. Whether from wanting to get back at Cedric or wishing to see little Ginny in smiles, Harry tries his best to accommodate her during each week. But even she notes the unnecessary pressure piling on him.

"It's okay, really. Thanks a million for all this, but you really should be taking care of yourself first. Leave the rest to me."

"But Diggory's—"

"Whatever happens, I'm prepared for it. Win or lose, we Lions are gonna rack up the scoreboard!" declares Ginny.

Harry can only hope that Gryffindor does indeed win, as he would much rather contest the Cup with them than Hufflepuff. This is most likely due to Harry's remaining resentment over Justin Finch-Fletchley's reaction to the former's Parseltongue last year (at Lockhart's Duelling Club).

Saturday—the 12th of February—arrives, and there's still no word of the Firebolt for Harry; he's all but given up on ever seeing his supposed Christmas gift. And, again, his day gets even worse once Harry returns to the castle from a rather dull Hogsmeade trip.

"I'm so sorry that it's come to this, truly! There just wasn't anything I could find for his defence," says a tearful Hermione to an equally distraught Hagrid.

"It's not yer fault; I shoulda seen this comin'." He blows his nose, in a handkerchief, before being further consoled by Hermione.

"But there has to still be a way—" Her sentence is cut short as Hagrid asks to be excused and crosses the wooden bridge in tears.

"Hermione," greets Harry, halting in his tracks at the expression on her face.

"You!"

SMACK!

"THAT'S FOR WASTING TIME ON ALL THAT QUIDDITCH STUFF INSTEAD OF WORRYING ABOUT BUCKBEAK!"

Harry sits up and rubs his stinging red cheek in shock. Now, he's unable to even think up a witty remark to this unbelievable situation. "What the h—"

"I trusted you, Harry James Potter, and so does Hagrid! But look how that ended up." Hermione yanks Harry to his feet and shoves him against a wall.

"What are you talking about? And why are you even so miserable, so much, this year anyway?"

"Don't act like you don't know that Buckbeak's been sentenced to death. Hagrid got the letter today, even after all the research I've tried to do. Over a month for absolutely nothing!"

Harry's expression turns to shock as he'd genuinely forgotten about the Hippogriff. "I'm sorry; I forgot all about that."

Hermione's expression turns as livid as Harry's ever seen. "You forgot about an innocent creature's life?"

Still rubbing his cheek, Harry sees her balling her fist as he speaks. "Between Professor Lupin's lessons, Quidditch, homework, and inquiring about my Firebolt...I just didn't think to visit Hagrid or ask Malfoy what's going on."

"Oh, but you had time to plan all that Chaser nonsense out, huh? I even kept your little deception going regardless of my workload." She shakes her in disgust while looking Harry in the eye.

"I'm sorry."

"Tell that to Buckbeak, if you even care. It's always about you, isn't it? Your plights, your troubles, but nooo, who cares about the Hippogriff?"

Harry simply walks away with nothing to say in response. The confrontation by Hermione, of all people, overwhelms him a fair bit this afternoon. Then, by evening, he somehow masks his emotions during dinner and heads off to bed earlier than usual.

If there's one class that's truly awkward for him since Hermione's confrontation, it's Care of Magical Creatures. The guilt of having completely forgotten about Buckbeak only makes facing Hagrid even more difficult. For it's clear that Buckbeak's case meant little to Harry, who now feels absolutely terrible. And while Hermione can only glare at Harry throughout class, Ron openly attacks when Hagrid's preoccupied.

"Thanks a lot, Malfoy. One little scratch and you go running home like a coward."

Draco happily replies, "Look on the bright side: at least we'll have chicken for days in the Great Hall."

Jeers and laughter echo throughout the Slytherins while Harry remains sitting with head in hands.

"What's wrong?" whispers Pansy, seated beside Harry as usual.

"I should've tried to convince Malfoy to stop all this... now it's far too late. His father probably scared the whole committee into this execution."

"It is quite a shame for such a creature to be killed for just one scratch, I'll admit." Pansy sighs and looks across Hagrid's garden at Hermione. "Granger's been shooting daggers at you all day now."

"I'm gonna have to get used to it; she's been trying to help Hagrid out of this mess ever since January, and yet I completely forgot about this whole thing."

Meanwhile, the verbal row continues between the groups led by Draco and Ron respectively.

"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" mocks Nott, which only has Seamus insult his father.

"Where's your dad? Hiding from the Ministry? Waiting for You-Know-Who to come back and grovel before?"

"Don't insult my father, you stupid Half-Blood," sneers Nott in return. "At least my father ain't a Muggle, hahahaha!"

Hagrid returns just in time to see the row settling down, although his lessons grow drearier by the week as Buckbeak's execution nears.

For Harry, the next few weeks sees him essentially cut off from Hermione, and unable to establish any form of friendly conversation with his first-ever friend. Even worse, in his opinion, are the sudden start of joint Divination classes with none other than Gryffindor.

"This is a bloody joke! Life itself is playing tricks on me, I'm telling you," sighs Harry, sitting on a common room couch near his handful of friends at the start of March.

"Look, just give it a try and see if you can convince Malfoy to stop this nonsense. If his father could so easily bully the committee into preparing this execution, then I'm sure he can stop it," says Sally-Anne.

"How? What possible way can there be for me to convince all this to stop? That thing is going to be killed in three months, and now I've lost ties with Hermione Granger. Hate her all you want but she's still my first friend and, well, more... God, this is all just rubbish."

"Three months still leaves plenty of time to think of something, so use whatever you can think of," says Sally-Anne. "If it wasn't for you, Malfoy would've embarrassed himself in his first-ever Quidditch match, remember?"

"I took their House Elf—"

"Who's working, for you, at their place again."

Harry decides to get up and end this conversation prematurely. Whether it'll work or not, he decides upon confronting Draco in the dormitory room.

"Malfoy," he says, entering the empty room save for Draco and him.

"Something wrong?"

Harry sighs and tries to bring his point across as politely as possible. More than a few minutes are needed for him to formulate an explanation without involving Hermione. Draco's response, however, proves as merciless as Harry had expected. Although by no means insulting towards Harry, there seems to be no room for negotiation at this stage. "Father's never going to back out now and, sorry, neither can I."

On Wednesday afternoon, Harry leaps up from laying on Millicent's lap near the Black Lake. "Screw everything, who cares? I'm going to do something insane because I just don't care."

Tracey turns around to glance at Harry. "Calm down and lay here again; you're not thinking straight."

"What are you gonna do anyway, Harry? Just so we know what to expect? asks Daphne.

"Anyone of you know someone who might be subscribed to Which Broomstick?"

"Yeah, I saw Yarrow MacDougal, a first-year, reading it in the common room a while back," says Millicent.

"Be right back." Harry swiftly returns to the common room to retrieve his Map and approach MacDougal, who happens to be seated at a table near the fireplace. After a rather easy bit of negotiation, Harry parts with 10 Sickles for his latest copy and proceeds to the Owlery. Here, he tears out an order form (from the back of the magazine) for Spintwitches Sporting Needs shop in Hogsmeade.

It doesn't take Harry too long to complete his anonymous order form for high-quality Quidditch armguards, which he hopes will boost Ginny's moral come Gryffindor's final match. The order is now packaged, paid, and delivered on Thursday morning as it swoops towards the Gryffindor table.

"Quidditch gloves!" gasps Ginny, to which those around her drop their forks and lean closer.

"Brand new; just look at that quality."

"It doesn't say who sent it."

"Maybe it was Professor McGonagall to help us close the gap on Slytherin?"

Sitting far across the Great Hall, Harry battles to suppress his grin upon seeing the mass of students surrounding Ginny.

Pansy, meanwhile, laughs beside Harry. "That's surely something new for her, shame. So, when are you going to go crazy and spend money on us, Potter baby?"

"I didn't say it was me; you've got no proof."

Millicent and Daphne snort together before the latter speaks. "Oh, sure, and why did you buy MacDougal's magazine? Doesn't take a Ravenclaw brain to figure all this out. But, don't worry, we'll keep your little secret."

On the Saturday of Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, Harry awakes earlier than usual and checks the Map for Ginny. "Who the hell is Peter Pettigrew, and why's he following my little rival everywhere? Goddamn pervert." Annoyed at seeing Ginny being followed around near her common room's fireplace, Harry conceals the Map and later meets up with Ginny at the base of the Grand Staircase.

"Good morning, Harry!"

Harry beams and immediately begins his questioning. "Good morning. Now do tell me: are there any guy friends bothering you lately?"

Ginny's totally bemused by the question. "No, why do you ask?"

Not wishing to reveal too much about his prized Map, Harry decides to be as cryptic as possible. "You sure? Nobody whose name starts with a 'P'?"

"There's bothersome Percy, as usual." Ginny glances quizzically at the narrow-eyed expression from Harry before smiling. "Or you could count a certain Potter following me about."

Harry shakes his head and laughs. "Never mind; I guess this 'P' guy's either really sneaky or you just haven't noticed him."

The bewildered expression on Ginny's face speaks volumes, and Harry therefore switches to discussing her Quidditch gloves.

"Oh, I absolutely LOVE them!" says Ginny. "And Ron's so jealous as well. Between that and his non-stop arguments with Hermione over Scabbers, things are really loud our common room."

"Heh, you know it was me who sent you those gloves, right?" Harry basks in Ginny's stunned expression. "Now, go and show Diggory that size doesn't matter in the game."

"I don't get it, though: the more we score, the harder it gets for you Slytherins to keep your lead." Ginny shrugs and enters the Great Hall while Harry takes his seat at the Slytherin table.

And it's not long until the game gets underway, at eleven o'clock, where Oliver Wood's team prepares for one final assault on the leader board.