If I had a dollar for every time I said I didn't own Harry Potter I'd have … well, nothing, because technically I don't say it, I type it. I don't think the situation has ever come up where I've actually said it. It's not like we sit around the dinner table, talking about my kids' grades, and I suddenly blurt out "I don't own Harry Potter". I mean, they'd all look at me funny, wouldn't they? Not that there's anything unusual about that.

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Chapter 37. Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw

Seeing Albus and Hermione working together so comfortably had left Harry more confused than ever. (Surely he wasn't jealous?) His concentration that afternoon was completely ruined, though thankfully Ginny was understanding. Understanding; but very, very unsatisfied.

It really wasn't a surprise two days later, he supposed, when Colin Creevey caught him on his way to the newly reopened library with a summons to see the Headmaster. Of course, to Colin it had seemed "really smashing" to be invited to the Headmaster's office. He'd been so excited for Harry he hadn't even noticed the older boy's reluctance.

That final staircase up to the office could have lasted a bit longer, Harry thought. Like another minute - or twenty. As it was, it hadn't given him nearly enough time to figure out what to say. 'I'm sorry? … I'm still angry? … Can I call you Dad?' It had been Ron who had forced Harry to admit, in his own mind at least, that that's how he thought of the man now. But to say it out loud … what if Albus didn't want that … what if Harry asked and Albus said no?

After shuffling into the office Harry stood awkwardly in front of the man's large desk internally debating how to begin the conversation.

"I try, Harry," a deep, sorrowful voice began, causing Harry to jerk his head up in surprise.

"I try to remember that I am not infallible; that I do not have all the answers." As he spoke, Albus motioned with his hand for Harry to take a seat. "Oh, I say it often enough … and I assure you that I know my failings far better than most others know their own. But sometimes … when I am certain that what I believe is best … I … forget."

Not understanding what prompted this confession, Harry could only sit and nod mutely.

Seeing that his message was lost, Albus carried on. "I am telling you this to garner your understanding and perhaps a bit of sympathy, so when I apologize for being a stubborn mule and discounting your opinion you will hopefully be more likely to believe my words. I had considered making those sad, sappy eyes but wasn't certain they would be noticeable with all these wrinkles."

Despite his best efforts to hang on to his anger, Harry's face cracked into a huge grin. Yet he stubbornly refused to say anything, not wanting to make it easier on his … guardian.

Albus, sensing that Harry was close to letting bygones be bygones, reached up and removed his glasses. Then he tipped his head down and slightly to the side, stuck his bottom lip out, and fluttered his eyelids.

"Are you … are you pouting?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes, I do believe that is my intent. Is it by chance working?" Albus asked.

"No," Harry replied; yet the laughter in his voice said otherwise.

Putting his glasses back on, Albus chuckled. "It never works for the countless students who have tried it on me over the years but I suppose I thought it would not hurt to try at this point." Leaning forward he continued, "But I hope my willingness to make a fool of myself has convinced you of my sincerity. I am sorry I put my beliefs ahead of yours, Harry. Can you forgive me?"

And just like that … Harry could. Hadn't he forgiven Ron for much worse with much less of an apology? "Yeah, alright," he said, "but does that mean you've changed your mind?"

"It means I have finally remembered that, when dealing in theory, all opinions should be treaty equally until proven incorrect. As yours has not been I must allow you to continue your research – so long as it does not get in the way of schoolwork or other Voldemort-related activities."

Harry readily agreed and soon he was telling Albus about a book on bloodletting that sounded very promising, although he wasn't very excited about the prospect of having it done to himself.

"Understandable," Albus soothed. "Perhaps there is another option? The ritual says – if I recall - the phoenix and the basilisk in perfect balance, infused by the essence of the immortal, bound with the silk of the great acromantula, when willingly taken, the end of life brings the gift of mortality. It is that rather imprecise word Essence that is giving us such trouble. Whilst it is perhaps obvious to focus on blood to fulfill the 'essence' requirement, I remind you it is not the only thing –"

"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting," Harry rushed to interrupt, "then you can forget it right now. I absolutely refuse to consider that Voldemort wanks. If it's even possible …I mean, he's got no nose … and they say …" Harry trailed off, turning that interesting mix of red, white and green Albus secretly called Deathly Grishwid.

Popping a chocolate into his mouth, Albus made a mental note to see if he could get the color legally recognized somehow.

-000-

The worst of the winter weather had passed. Small patches of dead grass could be seen through the remaining bits of dirty slush and between snow drifts that stubbornly refused to melt. It was one of those blustery days; the kind where you needed a jacket to protect yourself from the wind despite the bright sun. Perfect Quidditch weather, Harry mused, as he walked hand-in-hand with Ginny toward the spectator stands. It was Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw, which had been delayed due to repairs following the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. Remembering that disastrous game, Harry was glad to be in the stands for this one, although he did plan to avoid the front row.

Gryffindor had already redeemed themselves by beating Hufflepuff by more than 200 points. They were now in the lead for the cup. Not much to brag about, Harry reminded his team at every practice, as the season was barely half over. But the pressure wasn't on him or his team today – today they got to sit back and enjoy the show.

And what a show it wasn't. Harry couldn't remember another game with so much action leading to so little scoring. Right away Hufflepuff took possession of the quaffle. Their Chaser zoomed forward … took aim … and dropped the ball. A few plays later, a Ravenclaw Chaser successfully dodged Hufflepuff's Keeper only to miss the rings by at least three feet.

"Can you believe he missed that shot? A baby coulda made that!" Ron was very enthusiastically pointing out every mistake either team made.

Poor aim certainly played its part in the lack of scoring, but so did the occasional bludger, a poorly swung beater's bat, and even a football-style kick (which Harry felt was the highlight of the game) of the quaffle by the Hufflepuff Seeker. The result was a score of 20 to 20 after more than an hour of play. Harry would never tell his chaser girlfriend but he was getting a bit bored. He was equally unimpressed by the seekers. He'd spotted the snitch twice already; one of those times only a broom's length from the new Ravenclaw Seeker.

With a deep sigh, he turned his attention away from the game.

"Bored, Harry?" Hermione asked with a knowing smirk. "We could always head to the library and get to work on our Potions assignment."

"No, no … bad Quidditch still beats Potions on its best day." As soon as the words left his mouth, he turned his attention toward Snape, almost expecting the man to have heard his comment.

Over in the adult section, he first spotted Professor Flitwick entertaining a small group of brightly dressed witches and wizards. And there, behind the woman in sky blue robes, was Snape. Thankfully, he wasn't spying on Harry. Instead, he was having a heated discussion with Minerva over the match (based on their pointing and other hand gestures) and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Since Albus wasn't at today's match there wasn't much else to hold his attention in that section, so he scanned the grounds. Several students, probably as bored to tears as he was, were trickling out of the stands.

"Look at that idiot, Harry … you'd think he was playing charades," Ginny called out, pointing to the Hufflepuff Keeper.

"Oh," Hermione piped up, "I think he's a swan."

After glancing over … "looks like a grindylow to me" … he scanned the student sections. He traded waves with Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones in Hufflepuff, Dierks Harper and his Slytherin girlfriend, and Dean Thomas, who was sitting with a pretty brunette amongst a group of Ravenclaws. A little behind Dean sat Luna – at least, he was pretty sure it was Luna; her face was blocked by a large body with its back to Harry. But for her last birthday, he and Ginny had given Luna a hat with an over-sized snitch tethered to it and he could see that snitch flying directly above this girl's head. And really, how many of those hat could there be?

Harry couldn't tell who was talking to Luna, which for some reason bothered him. He asked Ron if he recognized who it was but by the time Ron had found Luna in the crowd, her visitor was leaving … and he appeared to be dragging her along. (At least now he could see it was definitely her.)

Perhaps it was harmless; perhaps Luna suddenly had a new boyfriend that he didn't know anything about. He didn't exactly keep track of her love life, after all. But this didn't feel right to him. She was being pulled along like a trained puppy, for goodness sake.

Grabbing the Omnioculars from Ron's hand …("hey") … he zoomed in on her face – her calm, expressionless face. Alright, some might argue that's a normal look for her but in a sixth-sense sort of way, Harry knew something was wrong.

Ron yanked the Omnioculars out of his hand just as Luna began descending the stairs, not that Harry noticed. He was busy jumping from his seat. "Come on," he called out as he left so quickly they had no choice but to follow.

Once out of the stands, Harry paused to look for Luna which gave the rest a chance to catch up.

"What's up," Ron demanded. "Why did we leave, Harry?" Hermione asked at almost the same time.

"It's Luna," he replied, "didn't you see? Something's wrong. But where did she go?" Ignoring the others, he searched the path toward the school but couldn't find her among the other students.

"Wha—" someone began, only to be drown out by Harry exclaiming, "There she is!" He pointed toward their friend heading, not toward the castle, but across the open grass. Her large companion seemed to be leading the way. "But where's she going?"

"Looks like the Forbidden Forest," Ginny offered. "But I can't imagine why she'd go there."

Cupping his hands Harry shouted, "Luna!"

She paused; but didn't look back and didn't wait long before continuing on her way. Harry made to follow.

"Whoa there," Ron called out as he grabbed Harry's arm. "You aren't thinking of following her in there, are you?"

"But…"

"Spiders, Mate. And baby giants and deranged centaurs," Ron said, thinking it enough of an explanation. "If we're going to follow her in there," he motioned with his head toward the spot where Luna was stepping between trees, "we need to have some kind of plan. And not a 'follow the spiders' type of plan but a real plan."

"Ron," Harry tried to reason but his friend just shook his head. Between them, Hermione looked guilty as she, too, shook her head. Ginny wasn't any help, she wasn't even paying attention. She'd been trying to keep her eyes on Luna and had lost her in the trees, but appeared to be trying to see through the very trees themselves to track the girl.

It was a stalemate, and Harry hated those, so he gazed off at the tress as he furiously working up a plan in his mind. A loud, spine-tingling, hair-raising scream pierced the air, shattering the moment.

"I'm going in," Harry said with determination and before any of his friends could argue, he'd pointed his wand toward the castle. "Expecto Patronum … tell Seba ... Luna's in trouble in the forest – we're going after her."

With a quick dip of his head, Prongs turned and darted toward the castle.

"Here's the plan … put your wand in your hand and curse anything between us and Luna. Got it?"

Not waiting for a response, he turned toward the place where Luna had disappeared into the trees. A gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Off to the left," Ginny pointed out, "you can just see her path. I'm going to get some professors – they're closer than Dumbledore – and someone needs to show them where you went. Be careful, alright?"

Nodding, he called over his shoulder, "McGonagall and Snape, Ginny," then he took off for the trees, trusting the other two to follow. Which of course they did. The trio slowed as they went further into the forest, partly because the ground cover was denser and they needed to watch their feet and not lose their path, but also because they were all aware that at some point they would run into trouble.

As it turned out, they walked into it. By this point Harry and Hermione were virtually side-by-side, with Ron a few steps behind doing what he called "covering our arses". A roughly oval area, cleared of everything but a few tree stumps and some broken branches and logs, opened up around Harry and Hermione so sharply they knew it had been camouflaged by magic. Once they'd taken their first steps into the clearing, and thus inside the charm, they were greeted with a sight they'd both feared and expected.

The first thing Harry noticed was the wand aimed right at his head, which stopped him in his tracks. Behind the wand was Theodore Nott, who stood directly across from him at what could be considered the top of the oval, smiling a nasty, toothy smile that one normally associated with goblins. A quick sweep of the area showed several other wands pointed in similar fashion.

Harry's wand, which was held out in front of him, stayed steady in his hand – as did Hermione's next to him, he was pleased to note – but he knew in this standoff timing would be as important as any spell.

Then his eyes fell to Luna and he couldn't stop himself from cussing under his breath. She was on her knees in the middle of the clearing, unarmed but definitely not unharmed. She looked as if she'd been tossed around then rolled through the muck. There were smears of dirt on her face, her clothes were wet and ripped in places, and her hair was tussled with clumps of rotted leaves in it. She was kneeling in a slushy puddle. A deep red spot that would likely turn into a bruise dominated her left cheek. Harry felt his blood boil and swore to himself they would pay if she had more serious injuries. Hell, they'd pay no matter what.

A light tapping on his back let Harry know that Ron was still behind them and was content to stay hidden in their shadows for now. Harry gave no indication he'd felt anything, instead concentrating on Nott's ugly face. Nott hadn't moved – his smile (disgusting though it was) didn't falter, his wand never wavered, he never even signaled any of his helpers. It would seem Nott hadn't noticed Ron's arrival, which gave team Gryffindor a secret weapon.

Which was a good thing, considering they were outnumbered.

A dirty sounding laugh, like a hyena come across easy prey, let Harry know that Nott was about to treat him to a Villainous Monologue. (He was starting to think maybe Malfoy had left a play book behind.) Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he took careful stock of the enemy. If his side could be called Team Gryffindor, then it was only right to call the other side The Slytherins, for it was mostly made up of current and former members of that house. To Nott's immediate left – Harry's right – was Sixth Year Slytherin Jasper Dorny. Harry might not have recognized the younger boy, who was remarkably average and forgettable, except the dimwit was wearing monogrammed robes.

Next to him was a face Harry really hated to see – Marcus Flint. The bully had been a pain in his side long before he knew anything about Death Eaters and Unforgivables, but even then, if Harry had been asked to name one Slytherin he knew without a doubt would go bad, he'd have named Flint.

On the other side of the clearing was another former Slytherin, Welker or Willies or some such name, Harry recalled. Like Flint, he'd been out of school for a few years, and of course Harry was never actually been introduced to the boy, but he would never forget how the snot had relentlessly taunted him during Second Year. He would bump into Harry in the corridors and when he had Harry's attention, he'd wiggle his tongue at him and whisper "Hhhhharry" in a breathy voice that was supposed to sound snakelike, but to Harry had just been creepy and wrong coming from the pretty boy.

Beside Mister W. was a pudgy brunette dressed head to toe in black clothing. Harry had trouble placing her, although he was pretty sure she wasn't Slytherin. He knew he'd seen her neatly pleated hair with it's distinctive streaks of purple in the hallways, but beyond that he was at a loss.

"Oh, this was just too easy," Nott gleefully cackled, drawing back Harry's attention. "I have this great plan … a perfect plan … and here you are, practically hand delivered to me before it's even begun. I didn't even get to send my ransom note. And I put so much work into it, too."

"I'm sure you did," Hermione agreed, "checking the spelling alone probably took an hour."

"Shut it, Mudblood," he shouted back, whipping his wand to point at her instead of Harry. "You'll get yours when I'm done with Potty."

'Oh yeah, most definitely Malfoy-influenced.'

"So what's the ransom," Harry asked as he nudged Hermione with his foot, hoping she would get the hint to stop taunting the crazy man-child with the wand pointed at them.

"What's the ransom, he asks," Nott said to Dorny, who like a good minion joined him in laughing. "You, Potter. You're the ransom. I was going to offer to trade the little weirdo for you. See, I knew you'd go for it. 'Course, the note told you to come alone but since you didn't get to read it, we'll forgive you. Besides, I think Flint rather enjoys putting Mudbloods in their place, don't you Marcus?"

"Oh yeah," Flint eagerly replied.

"Keep it in your pants, Flint," the purple-hair girl spit out, looking rather disgusted at the older boy.

"And since we're all already here," Nott continued, "I don't even have to pretend to let her," he used his head to indicate Luna, "go. I promised Wilkes he could have a little fun with her after you're taken care of."

Harry briefly turned his attention back to their hostage. "Alright there, Luna?"

"Oh, don't worry about me, Harry," she calmly told him. "Mister Wilkes was a bit rough at first. I rather felt like I was being trampled by an army of clabberts. But it's not so bad now that you're here. It's such a novel experience to be considered important enough to be used as a hostage."

Something hardened in Harry's eyes as he considered how unfairly most people treated Luna.

She must have seen the change, for she actually smiled as she added, "and anyway, I've seen you fight real Death Eaters so I know you'll protect me from these children."

The slight, while unintentional on Luna's part, nonetheless hit a raw nerve in Flint and Wilkes, who were both marked Death Eaters – Harry could even see part of the Dark Mark on Wilkes arm where his sleeve had ridden up. It was only their arrogance and perhaps stupidity that had kept them from wearing the masks that announced their allegiance while hiding their identity.

"Drop the wand, Potter," Nott ordered, "and move to the middle and get on your knees. You let us tie you up nice and tight for your visit with the Dark Lord and we'll let the girls go."

Harry ignored Hermione's gasp as she realized they meant to send Harry to Voldemort right now. "You know," he shot back as he tightened his grip on his wand and subtly aimed it, "if you wanted me to believe that, you probably shouldn't have told me you planned on letting your friends have fun with them. Diffindo!"

Nott and his cohorts flinched (Dorny even ducked), each worried the spell was aimed at them.

But it wasn't. A heavy branch that stretched over the heads of Wilkes and the unnamed girl was cut free from its tree and dropped straight down. Purple-and-Black Girl jumped back and was only knocked to her bum by the smaller limbs, but Wilkes had hesitated and found himself flat on his back, pinned under a jumble of wooden arms. His plainly carved wooden wand was easily lost amid the many branches and twigs.

Unfortunately, the impending fight didn't wait for the branch to finish its fall. Those that weren't under the branch quickly realized they weren't in danger, and before it hit the ground a mix of offensive spells - from "Stupefy" to "Crucio" and anything in between - rang across the clearing.

Ron moved out from behind Harry to attack Flint, using a new favorite of his. "Percussum," he bellowed, and Flint doubled over as if he'd been punched in the gut.

Hermione targeted Nott, who in turn was aiming for Harry.

Dorny, who didn't have any battle experience, panicked and called out the first spell he could think of – "Accio". It was an odd choice, and he hadn't even specified a target, but his wand had been pointed toward Harry and so that's where the spell went. But, as Hermione could have explained to him, intent is one of the keys of proper spell casting. Lack of a true, named target meant the spell was much weaker than it could have been. Weak enough, in fact, that it did nothing more than yank Harry forward a step, where he staggered to regain his footing.

Luckily, Nott's Cruciatus passed straight through the space where Harry had just been standing, instead banging into a tree and knocking off some bark.

Hermione's spell hit Nott at the same moment his spell was missing Harry and he fell sideways to the ground, his legs bound in ropes from thigh to ankle.

"I wouldn't, Sally-Ann," Hermione shouted, turning her wand on the formerly unnamed girl who had climbed back to her feet.

Sally-Ann had been about to curse Harry. The millisecond of attention she turned toward Hermione was all Harry needed. "Reducto," he shouted, aiming for her knee. He cringed as he thought of the damage the spell would do but the time of playing nice had long passed. "Expelliarmus," he added as he heard her scream and her wand quickly flew toward him.

By this point Dorny had convinced himself he had the nerve after all and he aimed his wand at Harry's robes. He sent a burst of bluebell flames, but his nervous trembling made the spell go wide and instead of hitting Harry it went toward Hermione's legs, making her do a funky hop to avoid the flames.

Unnoticed to everyone else, Ron, with the heart of a Gryffindor, and Flint, the epitome of Slytherin, had taken their fight so much to heart that they'd moved out of the clearing and into the nearby trees, completely forgetting the rest of the combatants. What Ron lacked in spell arsenal he made up for with his superior hit-and-hide strategy, so it was an even match.

As soon as Harry had called out his summoning spell, he turned his attention from the downed Sally-Ann to Dorny; he didn't even notice Sally-Ann's wand ricochet off his shoulder. "Give it up," he offered the Sixth Year. "I can tell you don't really want to be a part of this."

Before Dorny could answer, a jet of pink light slammed into Harry's chest and knocked him into a nearby tree. He felt pain in his ribs … felt his back brush against the rough bark … felt his head smack into the hard wood … then there was true pain and flashing lights and a rushing sound … and everything turned blurry and dark as he dropped to the ground.

His wand was miraculously still clutched in his hand and he held it up in front of his face in wonder. He squinted his eyes and stared at the wand as he tried to think of a spell ... any spell ... but not a single one came to mind.

As Harry contemplated the utter uselessness of his wand Luna was covertly snatching up Sally-Ann's forgotten wand. Armed, she rolled toward the edge of the clearing where Ron and Flint had disappeared. Her move was missed by everyone else.

"Grab him," a voice barked, and Harry felt himself become the rope in a human game of tug-of-war as Hermione grabbed his right arm while Wilkes, fresh from his splintery prison, yanked on the left. His fuzzy brain screamed at him to hold onto his wand and he complied, thinking it might come in handy at some point.

"I'm gonna beat the snot out of you before I send you to my Lord, Potter," Nott sneered as he dropped his wand to his side and started strutting forward.

Luna chose that moment to try putting Nott in a Full Body-Bind, but not having a good match with the found wand, it did little more than trip up the big Slytherin.

Whipping his wand toward her viciously, he snarled, "Sectumsempra!"

Then several things happened as if in slow motion, at least to Harry's addled mind. Harry, who had finally remembered a spell but didn't think Lumos would be of any use, saw Nott's curse speed toward Luna … Hermione aimed and shouted "Protego" … Nott began to laugh so hard he snorted as spell beat Hermione's … a flash of light cut a wide path down the length of Luna's left leg … "oh," squeaked little Jasper Dorny as he watched Luna's blood flow to the ground … having diverted her attention, Hermione lost her grip on Harry … but Wilkes was still pulling and without the counter-weight Harry sprung toward the Death Eater, landing chest to chest as the sudden shift in pressure caused Wilkes to lose his balance and fall backward.

Harry had landed in a peculiar way, with his wand hand braced on the ground next to Wilkes chest. As luck would have it, the wand's tip was touching Wilkes armpit, and even better the handle was still in his fist. "Rictusempra," he triumphantly cried, having finally remembered a second spell. The body beneath him began to shake uncontrollably with laughter and Harry rolled off.

"Rennervate," Hermione muttered from off to his side, causing Harry to feel like he was waking from a heavy sleep as his mind cleared, even if the pain didn't completely let up. And not a moment too soon, as a cloud of dust erupted just to Harry's side, reminding him that Nott was still after him.

Several loud bangs and shouts from the forest got everyone's attention, and Nott screeched, "Piss … we're about to get company. Just grab him and go."

Harry's response was as quick as it was decisive. He jumped back, away from Wilkes' reach so any portkey the Death Eater might have couldn't be used on him. Then he kicked dirt in the boy's face for good measure.

Pulling himself onto shaky legs, Harry realized the sounds carrying from outside their protected battlefield were coming from several directions. The teachers must have joined Ron in his fight against Flint. "WE'RE HERE!" he shouted as he dodged Nott's next spell - another unforgivable by the color of it.

By this time, the remaining combatants were scattered around the clearing; banged and bruised but still determined (Wilkes had even stopped laughing). For a few seconds an uncanny silence fell as they stood glaring at each other ... and then another volley of spells flew as the remaining Slytherins – Nott, Wilkes, and to a much lesser degree Dorny – attempted to subdue the two remaining Gryffindors – Harry and Hermione. The soot and smoke (thanks to Dorny's sorry attempt at Fiendfyre) was just starting to clear when a new figure entered the clearing from behind Harry's position.

Recognition sparked in Nott's eyes and he flashed another toothy grin, positive that help had indeed arrived - but for his side.

Snape coolly took in the situation. Potter was standing in front of him, back to him, and the over-confident child hadn't even looked to see who had arrived. Granger had spotted him and felt safe enough to drop to her knees to tend someone. Dorny, the eager to please, easy to influence, how-did-he-ever-land-in-Slytherin Sixth Year, was outside the combat area, waving his oddly smoking wand from Potter to Granger and back again. Effeminate Oswald Wilkes was trying to prove himself a man by attacking school children. The boy's wand had been pointed at Potter, but with a smirk and a nod in Snape's direction, he let it drop to his side.

Nott noticed, just a second before the spell left Snape's wand, that it wasn't directed at Harry. As Wilkes was tossed against a tree, where he stuck like gum on a sidewalk, Nott thurst his wand forward and shouted.

"Ava—" ...

"Re—" countered Hermione, now aiming for Nott ...

Harry knew what was coming, and he couldn't tell if it was aimed at him or the new arrival – Snape, he assumed – but it didn't matter. Looking around wildly, he chose his target ...

"—da Ked—" ...

"—ducto!" ...

Flick and swish went Harry's wand ...

"—avra …" ...

A curst of green light left Nott's wand at the same time a tree stump flew into the light's path ...

"... you tra—" ... the rest became a meaningless gurgle as the side of Nott's throat was blown away by Hermione's spell. A milisecond later the tree stump exploded, shooting shards of wood back toward Harry's side of the clearing.

Dorny dropped his wand in shock, then joined it on the ground as he fainted dead away.

Hermione dropped her wand in horror, unable to take her eyes away from the sight of Nott falling lifelessly to the ground.

Harry flinched and threw his arm up as the shrapnel came toward him. To his surprise it hit an invisible wall and fell harmlessly to the ground.

Wilkes wasn't as lucky. After all, no one stood behind him, ready to protect him from his own folly. Several slivers of wood pierced his skin – his cheek, neck, and even forehead – but far worse was a piece of wood the width of a finger that lodged itself in his right eye.

"Why is it, Potter," Snape asked in a bored tone, "that every time you wander off we find a pile of bleeding Death Eaters in your wake?"

Spinning to look at his professor (and hoping Snape didn't notice him wobble as he did so) he grinned as he answered, "just a talent, I guess … a power, you might call it."

Before Snape could reply another figure entered the area, his purple robes standing out amongst the greens and browns of the forest. "Ah, I see you already have the hooligans rounded up," Albus said, lowering his wand. "Excellent, boys … now what say we sort out the injured so I can send them ahead to the Hospital Wing?" If Snape noticed Albus' critical eye checking Harry over a bit longer than the others, he didn't mention it.

"Luna's lost quite a bit of blood, Professor," Hermione called from next to the whimpering Ravenclaw.

"There's a girl –" Harry began.

"Sally-Ann Perks," Hermione interrupted.

"Behind that large branch," he continued. "Her leg's probably shattered beyond repair. What you see is what you've got with that guy." He pointed to Wilkes, who had passed out but was still stuck to the tree, his left eye shut tight but the right half open due to the stick poking out of it. "I don't think there's much you can do for Nott," he softly added, casting a worried glance toward Hermione, who kept glancing toward the unmoving body.

In short order, Albus had Wilkes unstuck from his tree and Perks out from behind her branch. Snape grabbed hold of Luna and Perks and with a forked tree branch supplied by Albus, the three took a Portkey shortcut to the Hospital Wing.

When they were safely away, Albus turned to Harry, "You'll be relieved to know that your friend Ronald is unharmed for the most part, resting on a bench a few yards from here. We shall meet up with him on our way back to the school. Now, let us prepare the rest for our journey."

With that, Albus turned his attention to the Sixth Year boy lying on the ground. Jasper Dorny was in over his head; of this Harry was certain. The boy had been woefully unprepared for a real battle - he'd hesitated, he'd frozen in panic, he'd been ineffective at every turn … and then, at the most critical moment, he'd fainted. Looking down, Harry could clearly see the boy was no longer unconscious, even thought he was trying his best to appear to be.

"We'll need to wake him, I think," Albus told Harry in a suspiciously chipper voice. "Aguamenti."

A stream of cold water splattered right into Dorny's face, causing him to yelp in surprise as he jumped up.

"Awake now, I see," Albus said, giving the boy his full attention. "I hope I can trust you to behave yourself on our stroll to the castle."

"Ye-yes Sir," the boy stammered out.

"Excellent. Please remain where you are until it is time to leave. Oh, and I think it would be best for me to hold on to your wand for the time being, don't you?"

Harry wasn't the least bit surprised to see Albus was already holding the boy's wand casually in his left hand.

"Y-y- yeah … I mean yes. Sir," Dorny agreed in a terrified voice.

When Albus turned briefly in Harry's direction, he understood. Albus' normally happy eyes were as cold and hard as an acromantula's on a good day. Snape would be so jealous. And though Harry couldn't pin-point where it came from, and could never satisfactorily describe it to anyone, there was a certain feeling of power radiating from the man. With all that directed at him, Harry was surprised Dorny hadn't pissed himself.

As Harry surreptitiously checked the front of the Slytherin's robes for wet spots, Albus was on one knee confirming what Harry (and Hermione, he was certain) already knew – Nott was dead. Albus reached up and closed the dead boy's eyes, then tapped his chest with his wand, causing the body of Theodore Nott to flicker once then disappear. Harry didn't even care enough to ask where it had gone.

Oswald Wilkes was a different story. Albus turned a pile of wet leaves into a stretcher which he placed the boy upon. Even injured, Albus must have considered him more a threat than Dorny, for he conjured ropes and tightly secured the Death Eater to the stretcher. "Such potential … such waste," he muttered to himself as he looked down on the pin-cushioned face.

When the odd assortment of weary students, subdued criminals, and a whistling Headmaster left the area, it didn't take them long to cross paths with Ron.

"Mc – er – the Professor took Flint to the school, Sir," he said from his seat on the fancy wooden bench with a soft floral cushion Albus had to have made for him.

Harry, who was partially supporting Hermione, stopped and looked his friend over carefully. Ron had been sitting forward, with his legs wide apart and his elbows on his knees. His head had been bent down and he was breathing deeply. He'd lifted his head to speak to Albus, revealing a strange orangish-red spot near the base of his neck and several claw-like scratches on his left cheek. His hair was messed in every direction and there was a large rip in his jeans near his right knee, but his eyes were bright and merry and he was sporting a huge smile, leading Harry to surmise that Ron had won his battle.

With a sleepy sounding groan Ron stood and moved over to Hermione's other side, allowing her to lean onto him for support. As they started moving again, Harry let his arm drop away from Hermione, but he stayed close in case Ron needed help with her.

Leaning behind her, Ron gave Harry the universal 'I don't understand' look, so Harry rushed to explain. "Hermione saved me, Ron. Nott was shouting out the Killing Curse and she stopped him."

"I killed him," she wailed, and Harry's heart gave a painful lurch as he spotted the tears falling down her cheek.

"No! You stopped him," he rather forcefully told her.

"It was only a Reductor Curse," Hermione continued without acknowledging Harry's comment. "Like the one Harry used on Sally-Ann … I was aiming for his wand hand, but he moved, and I … it hit him in the neck." She sniffled before adding, "Snape said it was a clean kill. Like that's a good thing."

Ron, not having a clue what to do, leaned his head back and looked to Harry for help.

Had the situation not been so serious, Harry would have laughed – Ron was looking to him for advice on handling crying girls. Discretely lifting his arm, he moved his hand in slow circles until Ron finally figured it out and moved his own hand up to Hermione's back, where he began rubbing gentle circles. He even lowered his head to whisper things like "it'll be alright" and "there, there" and once Harry was certain he heard, although Ron had said it even quieter than the rest so he couldn't be sure, "I've got you".

As they neared the edge of the forest, an anxious Ginny shrieked and threw herself at Harry. Giving her a great hug, he kissed the top of her head.

"Only you, Harry," she said into his chest, "could go to watch a simple House Quidditch match and end up fighting Death Eaters."

Chuckling, he pulled back a bit so he could see her. "You know, Snape said something similar."

"Oh pish – don't even joke about me being anything like Snape."

"Not even close – you're prettier and nicer and much more kissable." And with a quick peck to prove his point, he started walking again, using the arm that was still around her shoulder to guide her along. Emerging from the trees, he glanced past the parade of people ahead of him toward their destination. "Speaking of Snape, though, I'm glad he got there when he did. I didn't think anyone would find us that fast."

"Well … I might have had something to do with that," she said in a teasing voice. "As you went running toward trouble, I put a Beacon Charm on you. The Professors were able to track you using the Ray-dahr Chant. When Dumbledore showed up, I started to explain, but he just waved me off and said 'I have my own way of finding him, Ginny' – you know, it's still weird to have him call me Ginny instead of Ginevra – anyway, then he told me to stay put and marched right in with his wand held above his head, and for just a second I thought 'well shite'. He can be right scary when he wants."

"Don't I know it," Harry agreed, having seen that sight a time or two himself.

They walked in silence for a spell before Harry remembered something that had puzzled him earlier, but since the middle of a battle wasn't the proper time to pick Hermione's brain, he'd brushed it aside. "Ginny, do you know who Sally-Ann Perks is? She was one of the ones helping Nott. She looked familiar but I can't place her."

"Oh, she was there? Hmm … I guess that's not too surprising. I doubt she's a true Death Eater though. More like, if it'll tick off Mummy and Daddy she'll do it, and I imagine helping Death Eaters would upset most families with Muggle backgrounds."

"Yeah, but who is she?"

"She's in my year. Well, at least, now she is. She actually started in your year."

Harry tipped his head to the side as he vaguely recalled a little girl getting called up to be sorted just before him. It was hard to remember clearly - he was focused on other things at the time - but he thought he remembered her as energetic (annoyingly so, considering his nerves) and blonde. With a shake of his head, he sighed. "Nah, that can't've been her. She was a bubbly little blonde. This girl was all serious and depressing and had dark hair with purple stripes in it."

"That's Sally-Ann, alright. You probably wouldn't have noticed with everything else happening my First Year but she got really sick. Bad case of spattergroit right after Halloween. She had to go to St. Mungo's – missed the rest of the year and a few weeks of the next, too, I think. Only, instead of hiring tutors for her, like Colin's family did, hers decided to have her repeat the year. I hear she was very unhappy to be held back. She felt like she'd lost all her friends and blamed her parents for ruining her life. Two years ago she started to seriously rebel, which explains the strange hair, the attitude, and the Slytherin crowd. But you shouldn't feel bad. I wouldn't know any of this myself I didn't have classes with her and her gossipy roommates."

Harry spent the rest of the walk trying to recall everything he knew about his former year-mate. By the time he realized it amounted to very little he found himself standing just inside the Hospital Wing. 'teach me to not pay attention' He very briefly considered backing slowly from the room and making a run for it but Madam Pomfrey had already spotted him and with an icy glare froze him to the spot.

"This one's uninjured but in need of massive calming draughts, Poppy," Albus was explaining to her as he gestured toward Dorny. "If you would point me in the proper direction, I believe I can handle it for you so you can concentrate on the more immediate needs."

Harry allowed himself to be guided toward a bed as he watched Albus maneuver the Slytherin (who seemed completely unaware of anything around him). Giving the bed a dirty look, he sat down on its edge with Ginny at his side.

Looking around the room, Harry spotted a team from St. Mungo's twittering in and out of a partitioned area. He figured they were working on Sally-Ann since he could see Luna resting in a bed a few down from him. Minerva was standing near Hermione, saying something in a voice too soft to be heard, but both Hermione and Ron (whose arm was still around her shoulders) were nodding along.

"Somehow, I doubt he'll be found competent to stand trial," Ginny said in his ear, getting his attention and pointing to the boy Albus was tucking into bed.

"Probably scared straight, anyway" Harry agreed. "I doubt he'll so much as cheat on homework after this."

The two continued to sit on the bed and chatter about nothing in particular as the others were slowly mended by the nurse and Ron drifted to sleep in a chair next to Hermione's bed until finally Harry was the only one needing attention.

Albus was standing near the doors talking to the Aurors that had come to collect Flint and Wilkes, but Harry could feel his guardian watching him as the nurse approached.

She stopped just in front of him with her arms crossed, saying nothing until Harry turned his head up and looked at her.

"I suppose you'll tell me you aren't hurt," she said, for it wasn't really a question – they both knew it was true.

"I am fine," he said with a firm nod of his head to show her how serious he was. But it was only one quick nod, because whatever Hermione had done to him in the forest was wearing off, making his head pound ten times harder and causing his vision to misbehave. A small, perhaps more reasonable, part of him knew he should mention it, but ... he really didn't want to stay the night in the Infirmary.

"Hmpf … so you didn't get hit by any spells out there today?"

It was odd, Harry thought, how much she resembled Snape when she arched her eyebrows and looked down at him with that look in her eyes. Even Ginny gulped.

"N-nothing too serious. I'm fine, I swear."

With a sigh – one of those long suffering sighs that signal one has reached some kind of resolve – she glanced briefly at Albus before saying, "Very well, Mister Potter. I will make you a deal." With her wand, she summoned something brown and fuzzy and held it out to him. "If you can hold this stuffed bear with both of your hands and look into his eyes, count to 15, and then correctly tell me what color the eyes are, you may leave."

That sounded incredibly easy. "Deal," he said, reaching for the bear.

"Harry, no—" Ginny began to say, but Harry already had the bear in his hands. It seemed to be a normal Muggle toy. It was light brown with big button eyes, a nose of black thread, and soft pads of felt on its hands and feet. Thinking he should do this properly, he stared hard into its eyes and counted out loud, "one … two … three…"

Unseen in front of him, Pomfrey's face had lost its sternness as she seemed to be fighting to keep a smile from her face. Ginny noticed; and when she looked behind her, Albus was openly grinning, his eyes twinkling as they often did when he was feeling merry.

"… fifteen!" Looking up Harry proudly announced, "its eyes are purple," knowing he was as good as dismissed.

"Miss Weasley, you'll have to move so Mister Potter can get into the bed properly," Pomfrey said as she took back the stuffed bear, which Harry hadn't noticed was now sporting spots of purple and pink in its fur.

"What? No … I said purple. I'm right, aren't I?" Harry whined as Ginny hopped from the bed. He'd lurched forward and tried to grab her arm to keep her in place, but missed by an inch and his brain swam around in his head for the effort.

"Concussions are not to be ignored, Mister Potter. A couple of potions and a nice cold soak and you should be fine by morning," the nurse explained. "I'll leave Miss Weasley to explain while I get your potions."

Over the sound of his snickering guardian, Ginny explained. "It's the bear, you silly boy. It's what parents use on small children who can't tell them what's wrong. You hold the bear for fifteen seconds and where ever you're injured or sick, those same spots on the bear change color. Different colors for different things. I only know green for infection and purple for bruises. The eyes turned purple, so I guess that means the bruise is inside your head."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," she agreed with a giggle. "I tried to stop you. Wait till the twins hear you fell for the Sicky Sammy Bear."

"Perhaps we can hold off informing them until Harry himself can see the humor in the situation," Albus added, momentarily saving Harry's ego while reminding the teens they were not alone.

The loud noise of a group entering the infirmary caught everyone's attention, and Harry turned to see two Hufflepuff's hoisting one of their Quidditch players between them. "Madam Pomfrey! Mylor tripped after landing and we think he's broken his foot," one of them called out.

Harry felt his mouth drop open. He'd completely forgotten there was still a Quidditch game going on outside.

Unceremoniously slamming a sparking goblet into Harry's hand, the nurse hastened over to the groaning and moaning boy. Inspecting his potion suspiciously, Harry listened as the boy gave a decidedly loud cry of pain as he settled his injured foot onto a pillow. "Whiner," he muttered as he brought the foul smelling brew to his lips.

Mylor's friends were standing back, watching with funny faces as Mylor begged the nurse to promise to save his foot. While Harry changed into his pajamas Ginny wandered over to get an update on the game.

For everyone who had attended the game that day, it was laughingly referred to as the Lamest Game Ever. It had lasted nearly six hours and had a dismal final score of 90 for Ravenclaw and 250 for Hufflepuff. Many of the spectators were heard complaining they wished they could just forget the game. But for Harry and his friends, Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw would always be a game they remembered.

** end chapter **

Notes: I hope nobody minded the appearance of Sally-Ann Perks. I never set out to solve her mystery, but when I needed a student to fight with Nott, I was cruisin' the Lexicon and found her name. Her mystery made her very easy to work in, rebelling attitude and all.

Clabberts are from Fantastic Beasts. Not everything Luna references is unknown to wizardkind.

Note about 'rennervate' – Rowling originally used 'ennervate' as the spell to wake someone who's been stupefied. She later corrected it to 'rennervate', but I still use 'ennervate' since this is what was printed in my edition of GOF and it is what is most common in fanon. So when I needed a spell that would clear (or awaken) a muddled mind, I decided it was a good fit and it would give me bonus points with the purists. You should know that when used in this fashion its results are only temporary, as the injury that caused the confusion is still there.

Percussum – Latin for 'to strike hard'; it's a spell that feels like you're being punched by a fist. Think magical fist fight, because snobs (like Malfoy) would never resort to fighting with their hands.