The final Hogsmeade trip of this year takes place on Saturday, the 19th of June. For most students, it's a day of fun and frolicking in the wizarding village. For Harry, however, it's a day marked with the risk of being watched, ambushed, portkeyed, and all manner of potential foul play.
From enduring a hefty queue at the main gate (courtesy of Filch's Dark detectors) to being watched by various Aurors, Harry spends over half an hour just getting into Hogsmeade itself. By the time he steps foot onto High Street, Harry forces out an exaggerated sigh while walking beside Hermione.
"After all that waiting and watching, I'm just not in the mood for this trip."
She looks at him while grabbing his hand as they walk together down the street. "Oh, do cheer up; there's no reason to get so upset over mandatory security measures. Come on, let's have ourselves a nice summer's date, alright? I'm thinking... Madam Puddifoot's, even if the place reminds me of Umbridge's office."
"I remember being in that pink hellhole as Pansy," says Harry, "If you're not comfortable with our local tea shop then don't go."
"But Puddifoot's also reminds me of that time when we first came here in third year," says Hermione, with a slight smile on her face. "And that's enough for me to go on. To hell with Umbridge! Let's go, high and mighty Chosen One."
"I can think of no better way than to spend my morning with the girl of my dreams..."
Hermione lets out a swift laugh before speaking. "You mean 'a girl of my dreams', right? 'The' is a definite article in English, or weren't you paying attention in primary school?"
Harry squeezes Hermione's hand ever so slightly as they walk down the lengthy street lined with shops. "What the heck school did you go to? Definite article? That's beyond my primary school days. You're such a grammar nerd, Grang —wait a minute..."
Just as Harry stops walking, so does Hermione who looks at him with a curious expression. "Something wrong? Don't tell me you've forgotten your spare change again, Harry James Potter."
"No, no, but I've done it!" declares Harry triumphantly, fist-pumping the air while beaming with pride. "I have finally figured it things out, yes! It all makes sense now, at long last."
"You're starting to worry me now, Mister," says a slightly wide-eyed Hermione while watching Harry's self-celebrations. "What supposedly 'big mystery' have you solved today?"
"The biggest one around; the most important one in my whole life!" says a surprised Harry. "Looking back, everything seems so much clearer now that I understand the real truth about things. Was I truly that blind to have never seen this overly-obvious fact? I know the truth!"
Shaking her head while smiling, Hermione folds her arms upon patiently awaiting Harry's explanations. "Well, Private Detective, I enthusiastically await the unravelling of whatever you've just solved."
"Your little speech on grammar tipped the scales of my grand discovery, Miss Granger," says Harry, shaking his finger at a curious Hermione. "I finally understand how and why you're this damn clever!"
"Oh my God," sighs Hermione while rolling her eyes. "Seriously, Harry? And here I thought it was something essential to winning the war or battling Voldemort or whatev—"
"Just hear me out! I remember where your house is... somewhere in Hampstead, yes? Well, there's a grammar school just past the church near you, and that's why you're so damn hard-working and smart!"
"I think you're a screw loose, love," says Hermione, "My grammar correction has nothing to do with grammar school. They're not the same usage of 'grammar', really. It's just an obsolete name for posh schools that only enrol 11 year olds who've passed a hectic set of exams."
"Exactly! You could've been in Cho's year but missed everything because your birthday's the 19th of September. I can make a very good guess that you were destined for grammar school, right? Because, at that point, you clearly knew as much about the wizarding world as I did when I was 10. Confess, Hermione, confess! You must have been hitting the little kiddie books hard in preparation for your posh grammar school life, eh? Mainstream school too beneath your high and mighty level, huh? HUH?"
At this point, Hermione succumbs to shrieks of laughter at Harry's crazed expression, given that he's just thought all this out on the spot. "Alright, fine, you're quite correct in that my parents were considering grammar school for little me." She now adopts a rather reminiscent look while smiling. "Ah, I remember it so clearly now..."
"Let's hear it," says Harry, leading Hermione to sit on a bench beside the street.
"From what I can remember, my 11 plus score... you do know what an 11 plus is, right?"
Harry shakes his head while seated beside Hermione on the warm bench. "Sounds like some high-class thing befitting Hermione Granger."
"Oh, whatever," she gives a soft laugh and carries on with her reminiscing. "It's a very tricky set of tests we can take at... guess what age?"
"Eleven?"
Hermione nods while clapping. "Yay! So, how'd you figure it out?"
"Very funny, Hermione. Could pass for a comedian. 'Stand up comedy with Granger.'"
"Anyway," she lays across the bench and props her legs on Harry's lap. "I remember my score as being about 140 or 141, yep."
"What were those tests out of, 150? That means you got over 90 percent, as usual," says a grinning Harry.
"No, silly, it's a standardised score using maths calculations, and we never got told our raw marks. The 11 plus just compared all the students' scores into a graph where you're ranked. I was quite above the average score."
"And you still are."
"My results came back around October of 1990, I remember, and my parents were as proud as ever. We made all the necessary arrangements and confirmed my place at a grammar school by March the following year. Of course, there was the usual jealousy in Year 6 of my primary school as very few others even sat the test."
"I can imagine the little Muggles picking on you for being too smart for their liking," scoffs Harry, while leaning closer to Hermione as she carries on speaking.
"That's exactly how my final year of primary school went." She appears relatively uncaring but still disappointed. "Lots of bullying when the teacher wasn't around, and break times just sucked even more. I know you meant no harm earlier by joking that mainstream schools were 'beneath me', but I heard this from every other pupil as well... and in a far less amusing manner. Although, I'll be lying if I said I wasn't eagerly anticipating grammar school and its challenges."
"Then came the biggest month of your little life, correct?" asks a smiling Harry.
"Mm-hmm," says Hermione. "By then, everything was ready and my uniform hung so proudly in my room. Midway through July, however, we got an unexpected guest."
"I'll bet a Sickle it was Professor McGonagall," says Harry, before catching the silver coin tossed his way by a nodding Hermione.
"She came in the dark after sunset while dressed as a proper witch, no less. Mum thought this was a poor excuse of a joke and shooed McGonagall off our doorstep. But I'm sure the Professor was used to all manner of Muggle family reactions, because she calmly came in to explain my letter of acceptance. Then she lit our fireplace with magic and we were all shocked speechless."
"I'd pay to have seen your face on that day, Miss Granger."
"I'd pay to have seen your face when Hagrid brought your final letter, Mr. Potter." They stare at each other, smiling, before Hermione continues: "We were then escorted to Diagon Alley the following day, and the rest is pretty much history. I did as much reading and practice as possible after that. Yes, before you say it, I read a lot about you too."
Harry remains smiling at Hermione. "Feels good, doesn't it? To talk about your life, I mean."
"It sure does." She stands up and pulls Harry to his feet. "Anymore questions? Or shall we be off to our steamy little teashop?"
Wasting no time, Harry wraps his arm around Hermione's waist as they head off down a side road and into Madam Puddifoot's. "Now, it's time to spoil the Grammar Schoolgirl. Someone as mighty as you needs to get only the best of stuff, which no village idiot can hope to afford."
"What?" Hermione glances quizzically at the sniggering Harry. "There's no need to splurge your cash on me."
"Oh yes there is!" Harry sits them down at a round table in the far corner of the cramped room. "Pick up that menu and order to your heart's content." Although he sits back and grins at Hermione ordering all manner of things, Harry ends up being just as spoilt by his date today.
"See? You're not the only one with money, Mister Potter," says Hermione, after finishing her third slice of Madam Puddifoot's most expensive dessert available.
Harry, who's just eaten his fourth helping of Madam Puddifoot's second-most expensive dessert, can't help but smile yet again. "Admit it, I still win this competition in the end."
"It doesn't have to be about financial circumstances only; it's about what's inside too, in case you've forgotten."
"Oh, please! If we go by what's 'inside', then our love would drive every other couple out this shop from envy."
Their date carries on with both students alternating between eating, speaking, or simply admiring each other. From minutes to over an hour, Harry and Hermione remain within the crowded teashop sampling all manner of treats and drinks. Looking out the window beside their table, they spot Sirius walking down the road with his wand at the ready.
"Man, he's taking his duties seriously today," says Harry.
"No surprise, given what had happened in our Quidditch final," replies Hermione, as they watch Sirius stop for a chat with Tonks at the road's intersection. "Is it just me, or does Tonks seem to have a crush on Professor Lupin?"
"Heh, it's more than just a crush, Hermione." Harry leans back in his seat while eyeing three different flavours of tea before him. "Well, well, well... what do we have here? Three different flavours just like three different ladies. The scented one would be you. Then I'd say the sweet one would be Fleur, and the most potent flavour here is definitely Pansy."
"And what would you be, Harry? I'm guessing... a bittersweet type of flavour, yes," says Hermione, before looking at the sole teacup on her side of the table.
"As bitter and sweet as you'd like," says Harry.
Hermione rolls her eyes before Harry requests that Puddifoot 'surprise' them with something delicious. Five minutes later, both students sit eyeing a delectable chocolate dish of sorts.
"What's this?" asks Harry, once Puddifoot's moved across the room.
"No idea," says Hermione, "I'm not an encyclopaedia of foods." She stuffs a spoonful of the dessert and immediately widens her eyes. "Oh my, this is rather delectable. You really should try some, here, open up!"
While savouring his surprise dessert, Harry looks up to see an irritable expression on Hermione's face. "Please don't give me that look, love."
"It's not you that I'm looking at," mutters Hermione through clenched teeth. "Some fifth or whatever year girl is staring at you from the front of the room. I think she's a Ravenclaw in Luna's year or something. Doesn't matter, she should keep her eyes on her own boyfriend, thank you."
"Oh nooooo, is Miss Granger getting jealous?"
"No, it's just pathetic how they're all so suddenly interested in Harry Potter now that it's officially known that you've fought Voldemort. Before then, you were just seen as some Triwizard show-off turned expelled loser," says Hermione.
Before Harry can respond, he's startled by a knock on the window. Looking left, he spots Pansy gesturing towards something on the table. But all Harry can do is shrug, given that he's unable to properly hear his friend from inside the teashop.
"She looks disappointed," says Hermione, "You don't think she's jealous about—"
Her speculations are answered as Pansy whips out her wand and casts Flagrate to write a note in midair:
Share your tea, dumbass!
Grinning guiltily, Harry swiftly does as ordered and moves a teacup across the table to make it even. Now, Pansy erases her spell and shakes her head before walking down the road.
"Even on our date here, you still need Pansy's guidance," says a sniggering Hermione.
Another 20 minutes passes by before Harry and Hermione end up leaning forward for a kiss. That is, until they spot a small gathering on the opposite side of the road outside. "I knew we shouldn't have taken the window table," sighs Harry, upon seeing Sirius, Tonks, and Lupin waving at them.
"Who gives even the smallest damn?" Hermione pulls him into her embrace as they kiss over a plate of nearly finished dessert. "Is that up to your 'oh so high' standards?"
"I wouldn't expect anything less from a Grammar Girl," he replies, feeling a soothing warmth from within. Not even a slight verbal altercation outside can dampen Harry's mood after Madam Puddifoot's teashop.
"Why the hell are you two wearing your uniforms on a weekend... and in Hogsmeade, of all places?" asks a seventh year Ravenclaw girl. "Ugh, if you're going for Mudbloods, Potter, then at least take one who bothers to neaten her hair for the occasion."
"Shall I?" asks Harry, glancing at a nodding Hermione while standing at the intersection on High Street. "Five points from Ravenclaw for discrimination and provoking two Prefects. Oh, and there's eff all wrong with Hermione's hair."
"I expected better from a Ravenclaw student," says Hermione, narrowing her eyes at the girl before walking away with Harry. "Let's not sully our fine day with one bit of rubbish."
"Where to next?"
"Stationery for next term, Harry."
They walk side-by-side, holding each other close, to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop where Hermione leads the way through many rows of items. From fancy feathered quills to rather lavish ones, Harry finds it quite challenging to decide. "Check these bright ones out," he says, causing Hermione to gasp in delight.
"I think they're quite lovely! Huh, isn't that a nice little coincidence? Red for Gryffindor, green for Slytherin, and blue for..."
"Beauxbatons," says Harry, "Or at least, that's how I see it. Alright, let's take some green ones for my girls, a red one for my Grammar Granger, and a blue one for Fleur Delacour."
"Hey, don't forget about yourself," says Hermione, grabbing a quill from its copper pot. "One to match those eyes, Mister Potter."
Harry spends around 7 Galleons and 11 Sickles in purchasing these seven quills, and he now exits the store with Hermione carrying their goods. From here, the pair simply stroll around Hogsmeade village without any set destinations in mind.
The remaining Saturday is spent with Harry opting for a pick-up game of Quidditch. However, before he can even select his teammates, word spreads around the common room at Harry's plans for the afternoon. Naturally, Irma Flint practically forces her way onto his team alongside Pansy, Daphne, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Tracey.
"How cute," says Pansy, watching the second-year organising their team to play against a mix of random opponents. "Channelling big brother's spirit, I see."
"Harry, you're Seeker," says Irma, glancing from player to player as her pigtails swish about. "Pansy, Daphne, and I will play as Chasers, Sally-Anne and Millicent can be Beaters, and this leaves Tracey to play as Keeper."
"You sure?" asks Harry, causing Tracey to march right up to him.
"What's wrong? Is it because I wear glasses? Oh please! You know I've played Keeper before, and there's something called 'magic' to straighten things out, duh. You should know better than anyone else, Harry Potter." She glares at him through narrowed eyes until Harry hands out Nimbus 2001's for his team to fly.
Across the pitch, he spots his opponents arriving with their own assortment of brooms in hand. First comes Cho in Seeker position, bringing her Nimbus 2001 which Harry recalls using to beat Malfoy many months back. Next comes Cedric with his Nimbus 1700 to play Chaser alongside Adrian and Yasmin, both flying Nimbus 2001's as well. Filling up the Beater positions against Harry's team are none other than Fred and George, both carrying their Nimbus 2000's which Harry's gifted quite a while back.
"Hey! You can't have a pick-up game towards the end of our year without me!" says Angelina Johnson, running across the pitch in Keeper gear.
"Well, what do you know?" asks Pansy, folding her arms upon observing their opponents. "We're up against a mix of Houses; all of them, in fact."
"Sticking with your squad, eh, Harry?" Yasmin eyes the group before looking down upon Irma. "I heard you've got some skills there, little Flint, but you're still just a second-year."
"I don't care if you're bigger or Head Girl; nobody trash talks me," says Irma, swiftly mounting her broom. The replica Golden Snitch is then released by today's 'referee', Miles Bletchley. Meanwhile, Cassius Warrington occupies the partially-filled stands while awaiting his turn to be called up. Fourteen brooms hover in midair, above the centre of the pitch, as George speaks:
"We're playing with proper rules now, folks. Oh, and don't forget to summon the Snitch with a spell if it's still on the loose by dinner. It's a replica, remember? Warrington will swap with Flint after an hour of play, and then she'll come back if the game's still on after another hour."
"Or if one of our teams win and then we restart it," says Irma, looking at Harry hovering nearby. "Don't be a jerk by catching it too soon."
"No promises," says a smirking Harry.
"Get cracking, boys and girls!" Bletchley blows his whistle as the casual game commences. With just over two hours to go until dinner, he wastes no time in tossing up the Quaffle to commence play. It certainly does feel odd, in Harry's opinion, to be playing with full rules and a fairly packed stadium without any commentary. Perhaps he's gotten rather used to Lee Jordan's talents behind the magical megaphone?
Still, it's an afternoon well spent as the Snitch is caught a total of three times, with Harry beating Cho twice in succession.
"You got lucky!" she says, walking up the slopes around 5pm. "Our Chasers whacked your side good, Harry."
Daphne, Pansy, Irma, and Warrington all scoff at the remark as they walk beside the large group of students.
"No hard feelings?" asks Yasmin, strutting beside an unamused Irma. "I just had more reach and experience."
"Just you wait until I grow up," says Irma.
Yasmin laughs while replying. "Too bad I'll be out of school by then, and so will Harry if you take too long!"
"Blah blah blah blah," Irma skips ahead, and up the slopes, while en route to the Entrance Hall. This leaves Harry to walk and talk with his group of friends, some of whom are relishing their final week at Hogwarts.
"Feeling nervous about your O.W.L.s?" asks Cedric, walking between Harry and Yasmin.
"Nope. Are you feeling nervous about your N.E.W.T.s?"
"I'd be lying if I said no," says Cedric, to which Yasmin and the other seventh-years agree.
"N.E.W.T.s or not, our future is already set and bright," declares Fred, while George backs him up.
"Yeah, we're just getting something on paper to calm our overly anxious mother," he says, "But you folks had better keep an eye out, and keep those pockets filled, in Diagon Alley from next month onwards."
"So, are we playing some more pick-up games this week?" asks Adrian Pucey, now wrapping his arm around the Head Girl as the group walks through the Entrance Courtyard.
Yasmin looks from Adrian to Harry before replying. "I think the pitch is pretty much booked by Gryffindor's upcoming Captain—and yes, she definitely will be—Ginny Weasley. I think she's planning an all-girls match with some of her pals tomorrow and thereafter."
"I've already dropped Ginny's name with McGonagall for Captain next year," says Angelina.
"An all girls bit of fun, huh?" asks Warrington, raising his brow, "With that attitude, Weasley will probably end up playing for the Holyhead Harpies after Hogwarts."
"There's nothing wrong with some girl-time," says Yasmin, as she now looks at Pansy's gang. "Right, ladies?"
"Yeah, girl time's awesome!" Pansy grins quite mischievously. "Right, Harry?"
"Oh ha-ha, very funny, Pansy."
"Take the joke like a real girl-man," says Cho, slapping Harry on his back as they step through the front double doors. "Seriously, though, I'm hoping to be Captain next year. So you, Ginny and whoever else had better watch out!"
By now, word seems to have spread across the school regarding the change in Quidditch structure for next year. As expected, Harry walks right into a confrontation with Nott, at the Slytherin table, upon entering the Great Hall.
"What's this I'm hearing? Two games and Vice Captain nonsense, Potter?"
Most of Harry's group heads for their House table seats as Pansy joins in on the confrontation.
"It's because you're too stupid to step down to the better player, Nott," says a seething Pansy. "Mark my words that Harry's only second-best on the badge, but far better than you on the field."
"I'm not allowing this at all," says Nott, folding his arms and sitting defiantly in his seat. "If Captains have the power to optionally appoint Vice Captains, then Draco or Zabini fits the slot for me."
"I'm with you, Theo," says Zabini. "No way Potter's crawling anywhere near our pure team."
"Say it," says Harry, flicking his Prefect badge, "I'm waiting for that inevitable blood status insult."
"Sod off and die, Potter; the Dark Lord's on the move again." Nott gestures towards the Evening Prophet laid open before him. "Fortescue and his family's been kidnapped."
"What?"
"What?" mimics Nott, "Don't act so stupid, Potter, because this is war. Or were you so trapped in your cosy mindset after your 'victory' at the Ministry? You think you've got what it takes to resist the Dark Lord? You'll wind up just like everyone's favourite ice-cream man—"
"Shut ze fuck up, Nott," says a voice behind Harry as Fleur gracefully comes to a halt beside him. "Really, shut it before your stupid stinking mouth gets you into trouble, arse'ole. Zis is absolutely no joking matter! First ze Florean man was proven to 'ave been Imperiused, and now 'e is kidnapped after just a few weeks at 'ome."
"Perhaps the Ministry should have sent him to Azkaban after all..." says Harry, "He might've been safer under the watch of trained Magical Law Enforcement members."
Fleur shakes her head before speaking. "No, I theenk zey should 'ave put some guards in 'is store and 'ome. Zis new Ministry of ours seems somewhat troubling as well."
"Aha!" says Zabini, "Who's the one with a stupid mouth now, filthy Quarter-Breed? Insulting Minister Scrimgeour, are we?"
"Consider your detention this evening lengthened by 20 minutes for discrimination against Fleur," says Harry to a cussing Zabini. "And swearing won't change anything, jerk."
He walks down the aisle, and away from the confrontation, with Fleur to take their seats between the girls. Naturally, it doesn't take long for Pansy to describe her 'guidance' on Harry's date.
"What?" asks Harry, seeing Fleur sitting with her elbow on the table, and her cheek resting on her fist as she sighs. "Are you upset over something?"
"'Ave I taught you nothing, my dear? You do not sit with so many cups of tea while your date only 'as one! Tsk, tsk, zat is being evidently inconsiderate, 'Arry."
"You're lucky it was Granger," says Millicent, "Other girls might've gotten annoyed at your selfishness."
"It's a damn good thing she knows you like the back of her hand by now," says Sally-Anne.
"Come on, ladies, no need to blow one little thing out of proportion," says Harry, "Hermione would never ditch me over a few cups of tea... or anything, really."
"Well, that is true, I suppose," says Sally-Anne, "But don't let your Cuddleborn watch you hoard all the beverages again, alright? Be a gentleman."
Realising that he's never going to hear the end of this tonight, Harry goes along and admits his mistakes. "Oh okay, fine; next time, I'll be super generous and gentlemanly on a date, alright?"
"You'd better be," says Pansy, "Because we're going out when it's the next Hogsmeade trip again. I expect to be pampered, loved, and treated like a queen on the day. If I say 'hop', then you say 'how high?' If I kick off my shoes, then you rub my feet, understand?"
As the final week of term arrives, Harry battles to keep himself occupied with anything besides Voldemort and the Death Eaters. "There's no point in stressing ourselves out now," he says on Monday afternoon, while laying in the shadow of a tree near the lake.
Sitting cross-legged right beside him is Pansy, who plays with Harry's hair while speaking. "I'm surprised that you haven't asked me to get my mom to spy on the Dark Lord for you."
"I know what it's like to be an orphan," says Harry, relishing the feel of her touch. "And there's no way I'd condemn you to that same fate."
The rest of their day is spent walking around the grounds while stopping every so often to sit and relax. Some students can be seen swimming in the Black Lake accompanied by the giant squid, and others go about their activities on this fine summer's day.
"I know I've asked this before, but how do you deal with all these expectations placed upon you?" asks Pansy, laying and kicking off her shoes on a flat rock at the Stone Circle. "You know, all this Chosen One stuff and whatnot."
"It's not so much an expectation than it is the inevitable," says Harry, "The way Voldemort's hell-bent on killing me means we're gonna clash again at some point."
"The big baddie's got decades of experience and ingenuity over you, Harry. How in the world can you expect to win? Okay, I won't lie, my mom's been in contact with the Death Eater, Crouch. He's told her everything that happened at the Ministry, even before you explained it to me. The reality is that you've gotten lucky in every confrontation with the Dark Lord so far..."
"That's sort of true, I suppose," Harry grabs hold of Pansy's stockings clad feet which he decides to caress (much to her delight). "As long as people like Professor Dumbledore are around, I'm not worried. The Headmaster knows what he's doing, and I'm sure he's got a plan to put Voldemort in the dirt for good."
"I certainly hope so," mutters Pansy. "It's still hard to believe though, isn't it? To think, once upon a time, the Dark Lord was actually just like you."
Harry grits his teeth and scoffs. "Influential Slytherin? Orphan? Muggle upbringing? Parselmouth? Half-Blood? Fine, but I'm still better than that reject disgrace to our House. The world will be a better place without his existence."
"On that, I can agree one hundred percent, my lovely Potter," says a smiling Pansy. "Well, don't take too long to destroy him, alright? I'd rather not have to wait until old age to get married and have kids, you know."
"Whoa, slow down there, girl," says a chuckling Harry. "We're only fifteen now anyway; there's still enough time to do what needs to be done in this war. Live a little and have fun while we're still at school. I mean, do you know how often I hear the same thing from seventh-years about wanting to stay longer?"
"Yeah I do, because Alyssa said just that," admits Pansy, staring at the skies with an indignant expression. "Life isn't fair at all."
"It will be fair when Voldemort hits the ground for the last time," says Harry, "and there's only one Curse I can think of to do the job someday."
"Cruciatus? It'll be great to see him suffer after all that he's done."
"Are you nuts?" Harry shakes his head while speaking. "No way could I pull off that kind of stunt on him. Voldemort may be an idiot, but he's not stupid. Look, I really don't want to be discussing this right now."
"Yeah, sure, I understand." Pansy sits up and stretches with a yawn. "There's enough shitty news in the papers these days anyway. Maybe the Daily Prophet should take a cue from the Muggles. We could all do with a healthy dose of some 'Page Three', if you know what I mean."
"Ha! My uncle never liked such lewdness in the newspapers, and my aunt was all too happy to agree," says Harry, before spending the rest of the afternoon solely with Pansy.
Tuesday arrives, and it's one step closer to the end of another school year. Excitement and anxiety seems abuzz across Hogwarts as many anticipate (and fear) their first summer holidays marred by Voldemort's return. The owls swoop down upon the tables, as usual, at breakfast to deliver various mail including the Daily Prophet. News of another suspicious death (some low-level Ministry employee) causes more than a few eyes to dart in Harry's direction.
"Don't look now, sweetheart, but some people are starting to stare at you," says Pansy, speaking while holding her paper deliberately in front of Harry. "Relax, they're not blaming you at all."
"On the contrary," says Tracey, "Those looks are kinda hopeful. It's as if they're gauging your reaction, Chosen One. Do they honestly think you'll just hop up and go fight You-Know-Who right now?"
"This is war and people are going to die," replies Harry, "That's just how it is. Besides, there's no way I'm anywhere near strong enough to actually defeat Voldemort right now."
"Please don't say that too loud," says Millicent, "Rather let people have hope. But if you go around with a despondent demeanour, then you're not doing anybody any good."
"However," adds Daphne, "Don't do the opposite; I wouldn't recommend going around boasting that you'll destroy You-Know-Who. Just keep it as calm as possible in these tumultuous times, Harry."
With less than a handful of days to go until the train departs from Hogsmeade station, Harry spends as much time as possible with his friendly seventh-years. These include Fred and George, Angelina, Yasmin, Cedric, Adrian, Bletchley, Warrington, etc. Harry even walks past a conversation between Cedric and Tonks, in the Paved Courtyard, on Tuesday afternoon regarding the former's Auror application. Elsewhere, Yasmin lets slip on next year's Head Girl to those she trusts the most; Harry being one of them.
"It was a tough decision, but in the end I nominated Cho Chang," says Yasmin, walking beside Harry and his girls on the slopes near Hagrid's cabin. "It's just a vote of confidence, though, and wouldn't automatically make her Head Girl. Still, she's smart, level-headed enough, and really pleasant to be around. Biased or not, Cedric pretty much agreed as well that Cho could live up to my badge next year."
"Excellent choice indeed," says Pansy, "Yeah, Chang's alright to hold that badge of yours, but wouldn't the Prefects feel cheated by this?"
"Not my problem," replies Yasmin, "Being Prefect doesn't guarantee becoming Head student. I think Harry's dad was a notable example."
"Yeah, he was a changed man in his final school year," says Harry, "And that's why daddy James got the top badge. So, um, who's likely to be Head Boy next year?"
"Some Gryffindor that should've been in seventh-year now, but I think he failed his sixth one last year," says Yasmin. "Kenneth Towler or something like that, yeah."
"They're making a failure Head Boy?" asks Daphne.
"Must be Dumbledore's way of showing that anyone can achieve great things, if they persevere hard enough," says Harry.
"Don't jump the gun," adds Pansy, "If Towler fails his sixth year again, then he obviously won't be Head Boy."
"You and your Muggle terminology again," says a scoffing Tracey, before Yasmin turns to smile at Harry.
"It's probably been said before, but I can so see you as Head Boy while Granger's Head Girl someday. No offense to Pansy over here."
"Oh please; I've stopped stressing over that a long time ago," says Pansy, "There's just no competing with Granger's ingenuity, really. Besides, it's clear that Harry would prefer Granger as his Head Girl, because it's like the past, right?"
"What in heck are you talking about?" asks Harry, as the group reaches the top of the slopes.
"Wasn't mummy Muggleborn Head Girl while daddy dearest was Head Boy?" asks Pansy, ruffling Harry's messy hair. "It's in your blood to get the Head badge, baby Potter."
Harry grins at the prospect of making Head Boy just like Tom Riddle had once done. "Heh, let's wait and see..."
Wednesday brings a fairly simple morning of wandering around the castle for Harry. But in the early afternoon, he comes across Professor Snape in the corridor outside their common room.
"Professor Dumbledore and I have... discussed things, Potter."
"Sir?"
Snape checks to see if the corridor is cleared before speaking. "You have two days to discretely improve upon your Cushioning Charm, if need be. Then we'll see if the Chosen One can soften up a landing from atop the Astronomy Tower itself."
"W-Wait, I'm expected to jump off that? For what? Is this a joke, Professor? I really don't understand."
"Of course, I will be on hand in case of a failed attempt. But if you're incapable of safeguarding against such a task, then it'll be to your detriment, Potter."
Harry frowns in utter bewilderment as he replies. "With all due respect, sir, I really have no idea what you're speaking about."
"Don't expect me to spoon-feed you with everything!" Snape sighs while folding his arms. "The first step in our 'lessons' is making sure you're safe. Consider them put on hold if you display incompetence, Potter." He glares at the curious Harry. "Do not ask me what 'lessons' I am referring to. Use your brain and figure out why it's of the utmost importance that you're adept at the Cushioning Charm as a prerequisite. After all, the Dark Lord never splattered himself across the ground during the initial stages of creating this ability."
"Oh, now I understand!" says Harry, "We're talking about fly—"
"Enough; go and practice, safely, before I'm forced to babysit an incompetent idiot leaping off the Astronomy Tower. It would be rather unfortunate should my reactions seem a slight bit off on the night."
Just as Harry turns to exit the corridor, Snape speaks once more.
"Do not speak of this to anyone, is that clear? Not even Granger, Potter."
Nodding, Harry heads for an empty classroom on the sixth floor where he stacks up a few tables, three metres high. In keeping with Snape's requirements, Harry leaps off the top one before casting Molliare.
THUD!
He hits the stone floor with but a hint of invisible padding beneath him. Nevertheless, it's a decent start for Harry to have partially performed his spell at such short notice. Now if he could just improve upon casting a Cushioning Charm here, then breaking a fall from the Astronomy Tower shouldn't be much of a problem. What does present an issue is needing to cover up his clandestine practice over the next few days. Fortunately, he recalls Sirius having leapt off a spectators' tower during the Quidditch final. This presents a decent motivation for Harry to use when questioned by Hermione, or the girls, with regards to his table-jumping antics.
"You could always use Arresto Momentum too, you know," says Hermione, watching in amusement as Harry narrowly mistimes his Cushioning Charm. "But stick to the simple things, I guess."
"This is kinda cute, though," says a giggling Pansy, "To think Harry's so desperate to emulate his beloved godfather. Jump, little Potter, jump!"
"What the hell am I watching here?" asks a bewildered Sally-Anne. "He's like a wee little kid in a park or something."
Taking a moment's rest from his cushioning practice, Harry stands atop the desk and raises his arms while declaring: "Bow down to your Chosen One, mwhahaha! I shall conquer the entire world!"
"Technically impossible," says a fondly smiling Hermione, "That would include the deepest and darkest depths of the ocean. How exactly would you assert your authority down there?"
"Then I'll conquer the deepest and darkest depths of my Granger instead."
"I really saw that one coming more than a mile away," says a blushing Hermione, while Pansy and the girls roar with laughter.
Their jubilance carries on as Friday, the 25th of June, eventually arrives. All throughout the dormitories and common rooms, students pack their trunks in preparation for the train's departure on Saturday morning. But tonight, it's time for the much anticipated end-of-term Feast.
After another day spent in the company of his older pals, Harry heads for the Entrance Hall while dressed for the occasion.
"Argh, the hats!" sighs Harry, climbing the spiralling staircase ahead of his equally amused Slytherin girls. "We're wearing... the hats."
"The pointy hats!" adds a sniggering Pansy, "Now our heads look like ice-cream cones once again."
"Daphne, put on your hat!" scolds Tracey, forcing her friend to don the customary piece of headgear. As dozens of students converge upon the Great Hall, Harry stands on tiptoes to sweep his gaze over the crowd. Sure enough, he locks eyes and winks at Ginny Weasley as she takes her seat at the Gryffindor table.
Nodding as if to say 'There's always next year', Ginny concedes defeat upon seeing Harry grinning at the green and silver décor. In addition, a huge banner depicting the Slytherin serpent hangs behind the staff table as well. But it's not long until Harry hears a familiar voice coming from his left at the Slytherin table.
"Don't act so proud, Potter; you're no Slytherin," says Theodore Nott, frowning alongside his equally irritable group of friends.
"We did all the hard work while you played Hide-Like-a-Coward around school," says Zabini, "If only we knew you were around... Umbridge would've sent you to the Dementors for good."
There's no need for Harry to respond, as he spots Sirius in the corner of his eye standing near one corner of the Great Hall.
"Leave my godson alone, Nott. I think we'd all appreciate you shutting up and stuffing food down your sewer of a mouth."
Sniggering most derisively, Harry makes his way towards his usual seat at the far end of the Slytherin table. "Lovely night, huh, ladies?"
Pansy's the first of the group to smile and nod, although somewhat concerned. "I just hope nothing happens over this summer. Or at least, I hope nothing happens to you, Harry Potter."
"Nothing can harm the Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-the-Chosen-One." He plonks himself down beside a worried Pansy as Professor Dumbledore now approaches his owl lectern.
"The end of another year," He pauses while looking around at the many students. "And what an eventful one it has been, if I may say so myself. We have all seen our share of challenges, few more so than Harry Potter himself."
Pansy pats Harry on the leg, and he smiles at her while quite a few heads briefly look his way in the Hall.
"I do not think there is any need to mention what we're already aware of: that Lord Voldemort remains at large. But what I'd like to repeat is that we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided..."
The sobering speech carries on for a good few minutes, while anxious looks cross many a student, until it's time for the usual proceedings. The final House points are announced with Slytherin edging out Gryffindor by a decent margin. As expected, recent events have caused numerous students to hardly care for the House Cup at all. Many expressions convey fear over the safety of themselves, their friends, and their families.
But Harry, regardless of being known as Voldemort's top target, initiates the applause which soon spreads across the Slytherin table. So what if the most dangerous wizard is on the loose? Harry's in no mood to downplay the very same celebrations which had brought him joy since first year. It is for this reason that he stands (as do his pals) and throws up his hat without a care in the world. Looks of bewilderment come his way now; it's clear that many students are shocked at Harry celebrating something as 'mundane' as the House Cup, considering that Lord Voldemort remains active.
"However," says a smiling Dumbledore, "although Slytherin has retained the House Cup for the eleventh year in a row, I believe a few more announcements need to be made. Firstly, Ravenclaw had played its part, courtesy of more than just Miss Lovegood's presence at the Ministry of Magic in April. I believe Miss Chang, Miss Patil, and Mr. Goldstein had uncovered two potential Voldemort supporters plotting a scheme..."
Harry leans to whisper in Pansy's ear. "Wait, what? When did this happen?"
"At the end of our last Hogsmeade trip. If you weren't so caught up with your lovey dovey number one, then you'd have known," she replies, though with a sweet smile nonetheless.
"...Gryffindor, it need not be said, had certainly played their part during the Ministry confrontation," says Dumbledore. "Then we have Mr. Diggory, Miss Abbot, Mr. Fleet, and a few others, who had assisted our Aurors with their investigation of an attempted kidnapping in Hogsmeade..."
"Okay, now when did that happen?" asks Harry to Pansy yet again.
Sighing, she gently holds his hand beneath the table and smiles. "Two days before our Hogsmeade trip. Sometimes, it's not always about you, baby Potter."
"...given the nature of our points system this year, and considering the aforementioned events, we need a little change of decoration."
Dumbledore claps his hands. In an instant, most of the décor undergoes a noticeable change. Green and silver remains fluttering above Harry's table while, elsewhere, he spots the Gryffindors looking up at their scarlet and gold colours. Blue and bronze hangs high above the Ravenclaw table while black and yellow adorns the hangings above the Hufflepuff section.
"For this year, the House Cup is therefore awarded to Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw," says Dumbledore, causing quite a stir in the Great Hall. Fortunately, the general reaction is overwhelming positive as dozens upon dozens of hats are hurled upwards in cheers and celebration.
Meanwhile, Harry overhears Malfoy speaking farther down the table.
"Have you ever seen something this pathetic and embarrassing before? What an awkward joke of trying to force awkward 'unity' among us!"
"Say it like it is, Draco!" says Nott, "Dumbledork is nothing but a manipulative old bastard making his own crap up at the end of the year. Look at these losers just lapping his nonsense up like pathetic sheep."
"What is this rubbish?" asks Zabini. "Why wait until now, right at the end, to cheat us out of getting the House Cup?"
"Ignore them," says Pansy, upon seeing Harry glaring at his former roommates seated down the table. "They're the ones who are pathetic and awkward."
"Look on the bright side," says Daphne to Harry, "We haven't actually lost the House Cup, have we? So we've still won it for yet another year in a row. I suppose shared glory is still glory after all."
The main course of tonight's feast soon lines the tables, and what a selection it truly is! Harry swipes helpings from bowls all around him and, on one occasion, accidentally reaches over a groaning Pansy's plate.
SMACK!
She whacks his hand aside, and Harry instead requests that Pansy pass him the bowl of food on her left.
"Yeah, just because he's the Chosen One doesn't excuse him from table manners," says Sally-Anne, shaking her head at Harry. "Don't reach over people's plates while they're eating!"
Regardless, Harry absolutely enjoys the rest of his feast until leaving the Great Hall at 11pm. With his belly filled, he excuses himself for a 'meeting with Professor Dumbledore.' In truth, Harry makes his way to the top of the Astronomy Tower where Professor Snape awaits.
"I am not responsible for any nausea, vomiting, or expulsion of waste you may incur from tonight's test," he says, even though Harry couldn't help himself at the end-of-year feast. "Now, as I was saying the other day, the Dark Lord's technique first requires one to be safeguarded from failure. In other words, if you doubt your ability to recover from a fall, then you've already failed at even trying to understand unsupported flight, Potter. There can be no doubts, understand?"
"Yes, sir," says a nodding Harry, hoping with all his might that he wouldn't throw up from what he's about to do.
"On the count of three, we will both leap off this tower. You may be wondering why I've chosen this particular night with relatively poor visibility? Well, that's precisely it; I am expecting you to anticipate your landing and plan appropriately. Then again, we absolutely cannot practice this in broad daylight, Potter. Now, jump!"
"But, sir, you said on the count of—"
"Life can be unexpected."
With wand clutched tightly in his grip, Harry climbs atop the railing before inhaling deeply. Then he takes, quite literally, a leap of faith beneath the darkness of a cloudy night sky. While freefalling from the top of the tower, Harry makes an expression of screwing up his face against the rush of wind resistance. All it takes is a decent attempt at the Cushioning Charm once he's metres from the ground to land safely.
"Sufficient," says Snape, landing in a swirl of black smoke beside Harry. "Now ascend the tower and repeat this three more times. No cheating, Potter; should one lose control of unsupported flight in midair, there would be little time to respond appropriately. I do not wish to see you casting that Cushioning Charm until you're nearing the ground."
Knowing that Snape wouldn't give him an easy lift up, Harry enters the tower and climbs staircase after staircase until he's once more at the top. Over the next half an hour, he jumps, cushions his fall, and jogs up countless steps yet again. It's nauseating and indeed exhausting, but a necessary test before Harry can even hope to start learning from his Head of House.
But this is merely a preliminary trial run for Harry, and he's soon made to jump yet again until the clock strikes midnight. Next, Snape assigns him the task of practicing his Levitation Charm, in addition to Levicorpus.
"If I so much as hear that you're testing it out on other students, Potter..." says Snape, as they stand atop the Astronomy Tower yet again.
"Is there a problem with that, sir?" asks Harry, wondering what's got Snape so suddenly upset. "Not even on my own friends?"
"The next phase of preparation, before I even begin our flight practice, is to have you capable of adeptly casting both Wingardium Leviosa as well as Levicorpus. For the former, I'll be expecting you to levitate numerous objects simultaneously; for the latter, you'll be hoisting yourself off the ground for as long as requested. Then, you'll perform both tasks together."
"I take it we'll be practicing those next year, Professor?"
"Your Trace remains active, and I certainly do not wish to have you over for the summer holidays, Potter."
Harry sighs and nods, having grown used to his Head of House's temperament over the past five years. "I knew that, Professor."
With the Hogwarts Express set to depart Hogsmeade station at 11am today, Harry makes haste to his common room. Here, he spends nearly an hour in the company of his five girls before it's time to call it a night. However, the prospect of bidding farewell to more friendly faces later on makes for a troubling night's sleep for Harry.