Chapter 20: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

As October faded into November, things got better. Not all at once and not completely, but enough for him to breathe again.

There were flashes of light in the darkness.

His friends helped him as much as they could, but Harry still found that he couldn't share the majority of his feelings with them, no matter how much he might want to.

There were so many things he wanted to tell them.

He just wasn't ready yet.

His friends took his unwillingness to share in stride, never letting it affect their interactions with him. Conversation stayed light, and Harry was grateful for it.

Being around his friends, just listening to them talk and laugh, was like medicine to him. It may not have healed all the wounds he had, but it gave him times when he could forget that they were there.

To Harry's surprise, what helped him the most were his sessions with Professor McGonagall. She seemed to understand that what he needed, more than anything, was someone to be there for him consistently.

She didn't make him talk about his feelings. She didn't try to tell him how to get better.

She was just there.

She was a constant presence in his life, providing a kind of stability he had never experienced before.

He felt normal when he was with her. He didn't feel like a traumatized orphan, he just felt like any other 15-year-old kid.

She asked him about homework, classes, his friends, even Hedwig. They were the kinds of conversations Harry imagined that parents had with their kids. It wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary for most people, but to Harry it was everything. He felt that, if she had lived, his mother would have spoken to him like this.

Harry guessed that McGonagall had played a similar role in Sirius' life, filling in for the loving mother he never really got to have.

Harry found that he slept best on the nights following his sessions in McGonagall's office. On those nights, although he would still dream about the door at the end of the dark hallway, he had no nightmares.

His meetings with Professor McGonagall also gave him a certain amount of freedom from Umbridge. The Toad had given him several more detentions, but she never interfered with McGonagall's sessions.

When Harry asked Professor McGonagall how she had gotten Umbridge to agree to that, she had snorted.

"Honestly, Potter, it was too easy. I just told her that I was 'disciplining' you in an attempt to salvage what little remained of your character. She was eating right out of my hand! Foolish woman!"

Apparently, Umbridge's unfailing belief that Harry was a hooligan made her quite easy to manipulate. McGonagall kept up the facade by bemoaning Harry's delinquent behavior around Umbridge, making sure to project an air of disdain as she did so. Harry could tell that she found the whole thing rather amusing.

Harry still ended up in detention with Umbridge about twice a week, but it was far better than spending entire weeks being tortured in her office.

The other perk of spending so much time with Professor McGonagall was that Harry's progress with his Animagus transformation had sped up considerably. McGonagall had used the meditation method herself when she completed the transformation, and she was full of excellent advice.

She had told him to focus on the feeling of flying above all else and to just allow the animal to take over. He had tried the technique with great success. On just his third session with McGonagall, he had discovered his Animagus form: a black owl.

Harry was delighted.

Considering that his first real friend had been Hedwig, his form made perfect sense.

Another bright spot in Harry's life was the Founders' League, especially the sessions with the younger years. The kids were just so joyful. Every little thing made them happy. Making them smile made him feel warm inside, like his soul was healing.

He also found himself forming a close friendship with the little Hufflepuff girl, Claire, who had hugged him after the first meeting. She was a Muggle-born and the sweetest person Harry had ever met.

It had all started when he had found her in tears in the hallway one evening, clutching a Potions essay to her chest. Professor Snape had completely eviscerated her efforts, peppering each line with copious insults and red-inked slashes.

"I just d-don't understand w-what he wants from me," she sobbed, gazing up at Harry with huge blue eyes.

"I'm s-so n-new to m-magic, and I j-just don't understand the c-concepts."

Harry had never hated Professor Snape more than he did in that moment. He knew the man was on their side, but making children cry was not something Harry could stand behind.

He knew that Claire was smart, he had seen it in the way she took to defensive magic. He also knew, however, that she was shy and tentative. She needed a teacher who encouraged her, not one who put her down every time she made a mistake. She needed someone to show her what she was capable of.

Harry vowed to be that person.

That was how he ended up spending his Saturday afternoons tutoring Claire in Potions. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed it. Claire was such a sweetheart and spending time with her was like a breath of fresh air.

The first time she had brought back a Potions essay with an Exceeds Expectations, Harry had felt like he was walking on air for days afterward.

Not long after Harry had started tutoring Claire, he was approached by Neville, who looked very sheepish.

"Hey, Harry? IwaswonderingifyoucouldhelpmewithPotionstoo?"

Neville spoke so fast, it took Harry several seconds to understand what he was saying.

"Of course, Neville. I'd be glad to help you. If you want, we can work together in the Common Room tonight on that essay that's due Friday?"

Neville nodded, beaming at him. Harry felt that same warm feeling he got after sessions of the Founders' League.

Neville was another person who had great potential in Potions that wasn't being realized because he was terrified of Professor Snape. Harry wondered if Neville's upbringing had something to do with it. He could vividly remember Neville's story about being dropped from a window by a relative. Neville had brushed it off as nothing, but Harry could see the hurt in his eyes.

Being hurt by your own family should never happen to anyone. Harry knew how much it ached, and he wanted to help Neville however he could, even if that just meant helping him with Potions.

Harry wondered if Neville's clumsiness and timidity were his way of coping with authority figures he found intimidating. He knew that everyone handled it differently. Harry tended to run his mouth, often getting himself in more trouble, while Neville shrunk back, trying to minimize the damage.

Harry enjoyed his time with Neville. The other boy was fiercely kind and brave in an understated way Harry had never noticed before. Harry also discovered that Neville had a natural flair for Potions. He shouldn't have been surprised considering Neville's abilities in Herbology, but it was still a shock to see how passionate his friend really was about the subject.

Harry, wanting Neville to reach his full potential, began partnering with him in every Potions class. He did his best to keep Snape's attention away from his friend, even if it meant losing points for Gryffindor.

It was more than worth it. In the first week of November, Neville produced a flawless Befuddlement Draft. For a moment, Harry honestly thought that Snape's head was going to explode.

After class, Neville had given him a hug, and Harry just knew it would be a memory strong enough to fuel a Patronus.

As the weather grew colder, Harry grew more and more excited. He could practically smell Quidditch in the air. The first match of the season would be Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and Harry couldn't wait.

He hadn't played in a Quidditch match since they'd won the Final in his third year, and he was more than ready to be back on the Pitch. His excitement was compounded by the fact that Angelina was a brilliant strategist.

She had been researching the plays of professional teams and had come to the conclusion that the team wasn't using Harry as effectively as they could be.

"You're our best flyer, and you're wasted just spending all your time looking for the Snitch. You should be interfering with the other team's Chasers."

Angelina had drawn up complex plays that involved Harry blocking passes and generally being a distraction to the Slytherin Chasers.

At first, Harry had been worried that Malfoy might beat him to the Snitch if they tried this strategy. When he expressed his concerns to Angelina, she had brushed him off.

"Malfoy is the least subtle Seeker I've ever seen. If he sees the Snitch, you'll know."

The morning of the match dawned cold and cloudless: perfect weather.

Harry had barely slept the night before, which was pretty normal for him where Quidditch was concerned. The lack of sleep did not temper his excitement in the slightest. He pulled on his red uniform and practically bounced down the stairs.

The team gathered in the Common Room before heading down to breakfast together. It was a tradition on the morning of every Quidditch game, a way for them to show their solidarity to the school and offer support to one another.

Harry got a pleasant surprise when he entered the Hall. It seemed that nearly every member of the Founders' League, regardless of House, was supporting Gryffindor that day. The Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin tables were peppered with red.

Harry could see Malfoy glaring at Blaise who was wearing a completely red outfit complete with a Gryffindor scarf. Harry laughed. He knew how much Blaise loved messing with Malfoy.

As soon as he'd sat down, Claire had rushed over to him, carrying a banner that read "Catch the Snitch, Harry!" in sparkly red and gold letters. It even had a detailed painting of him chasing after a tiny snitch. Claire was quite a talented artist.

"Do you like it?" She asked, looking gleeful.

"I stayed up all night making it for you!"

Harry found himself getting a bit choked up at the gesture.

"It's great, Claire!"

It really was.

"Here, I can make it even better," George said, pulling out his wand and aiming it at the banner.

One Charm later, and the painted Harry was zooming around the banner, chasing after the Snitch.

"Cool!" Claire exclaimed, glee shining in her eyes.

"I love magic!"

Harry smiled, recognizing in Claire the same wonder that he still felt for the magical world.

Claire turned back to him, her tiny face growing stern.

"Win the match, Harry! I didn't spend all this time on a banner just for you to lose."

"Don't worry Claire, I'll win it just for you!"

She beamed at him.

"You better! Bye!"

She skipped back to the Hufflepuff table, dragging the banner behind her.

"I think we may have to worry about her starting a Harry Potter Fan Club," Hermione said, teasingly.

"She really seems to like you, Harry!"

"Did someone mention a Harry Potter Fan Club?" Fred asked, peering around Neville to look at Hermione.

"George and I have been trying to start one for years, but there hasn't been sufficient interest."

Harry threw an orange at him.

"No starting Fan Clubs. If you do, I'll tell your Mum."

Fred gasped, clutching his chest as though wounded.

"You wouldn't!"

"I would," Harry said, smirking.

"Best not to risk it, Freddie," George chimed in.

"I wouldn't want to go toe to toe with Harry. He's disturbed and dangerous, or haven't you heard?"

Another orange came sailing George's way.

"Oi, stop throwing fruit at us!"

"I will when you stop being a prat!"

Breakfast passed rather quickly after that.

Before Harry knew it, Angelina and Montague were shaking hands, glaring fiercely at one another.

The match had begun.

Taking off was exhilarating. Harry immediately rocketed high into the air, trying to get a good view of the action. He quickly noted that Montague had possession of the Quaffle and was zooming toward the Gryffindor goalposts.

Harry sped after him, noticing that Pucey was edging closer to the goal, clearly waiting for Montague to pass to him.

As soon as the Quaffle left Montague's hands, Harry flew after it, using his broom handle to whack the Quaffle back toward the Slytherin side where it was deftly caught by Katie Bell.

"An excellent play by Harry Potter!"

Lee Jordan's voice sounded across the cheering stadium.

"Not many people know that Seekers are allowed to interfere with passes so long as they don't touch the Quaffle with their hands."

Harry, trusting Katie to take care of the Quaffle, turned his attention to searching for the Snitch, Malfoy trailing after him.

"Is Weasley such a bad Keeper that they have to use you to help protect the goal?" Malfoy sneered, his face twisted into an ugly frown.

"Shut it, Malfoy."

"But then again," Malfoy continued, acting as if he hadn't heard Harry.

"I guess you need to win for your Fan Club. I saw that Hufflepuff drooling all over you at Breakfast. I didn't know you were so interested in little girls, Potter."

Harry felt his blood boil at what Malfoy was insinuating.

"I would at least hope you had better taste than that Mudblood."

"Shut Up, Malfoy!"

"Make me."

Fine.

If Malfoy wanted to play dirty, that's exactly what he would get.

Harry could handle being insulted himself, but he would not allow Malfoy to make comments like that about Claire.

Malfoy would pay for that.

The match continued, Harry running interference while keeping his eye on Malfoy, waiting for his opportunity to strike.

Katie scored again, leaving the score at 70-30 to Gryffindor.

"Katie Bell puts away another goal for Gryffindor. That girl sure can fly! She's also quite attractive…"

"JORDAN"

Harry laughed, Professor McGonagall and Lee Jordan were quite the comedic duo.

As his amusement faded, Harry turned his attention back to his plan for Malfoy. He wanted to humiliate him.

Harry didn't normally want to embarrass people, he wasn't a naturally vindictive person, but something in him had snapped when he had heard Malfoy talking about Claire.

Harry had an idea. It was risky, but he was feeling rather reckless at the moment. He kept remembering the moment from the World Cup last summer when Viktor Krum had pulled off a flawless Wronski Feint that resulted in Aidan Lynch face-planting into the ground.

Harry didn't want to injure Malfoy, just make him look like a fool. A Wronski Feint would be the perfect way to do it. If Harry could pull it off, that is.

He knew that the Quidditch Pitch had Cushioning Charms on it. More had been added after the Dementor incident in Harry's third year. If Malfoy hit the ground after a dive, he would be fine.

Harry made sure that Malfoy was trailing him. When he was positive that Malfoy was mirroring his every move, Harry drifted lazily into the center of the Pitch. He was around 50 feet up.

Malfoy followed him.

It was time.

Harry, acting as if he'd caught sight of the Snitch, turned his broom handle straight toward the ground and dived.

"It looks like Potter has seen the Snitch! Malfoy is right on his tail."

It was a very fast dive, one of the fastest Harry had ever attempted. The air was rushing in his ears, the harsh whistle nearly drowning out the screaming of the crowd. He could just make out the green of Malfoy's robes in his peripheral vision.

"Look at them go!"

Harry knew he was probably going too fast.

He could see the grass coming up toward him, faster and faster.

"Sweet Merlin! I think they're going to crash!"

Lee was only half right.

At the last moment, Harry brought his broom handle level, his toes dragging slightly in the grass, before he rose back into the sky.

Malfoy was not so lucky.

He wasn't nearly as agile as Harry and was barely able to slow down before he hit the ground. Harry heard the crowd gasp at the audible crunching sound Malfoy made as he plowed into the grass.

A quick glance down showed him that Malfoy was already sitting up, red with rage and humiliation. He looked uninjured but furious.

Success.

"POTTER JUST PULLED OFF A WRONSKI FEINT! ARE YOU SEEING THIS?"

Lee Jordan was jumping up and down, shouting into the Megaphone.

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF VIKTOR KRUM COULD HAVE PULLED OUT OF THAT DIVE! THAT WAS SPECTACULAR!"

Harry couldn't hold back a grin at Lee's enthusiasm.

"SMASHED MALFOY RIGHT INTO THE GROUND! SERVED HIM RIGHT, THE GIT!"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor. I'm just speaking the truth."

The crowd seemed to share Lee's excitement, their cheers filling the stadium.

Harry took a moment to scan for Blaise's face in the crowd, wanting to see his reaction to Malfoy smashing into the ground. He had just found his friend's face when he saw it: the Snitch. It was hovering just in front of the Slytherin section.

Harry wasted no time. He sped across the Pitch, heading straight for the Snitch.

He had just reached out his hand to grab the golden ball when it suddenly changed direction, heading straight toward the ground. Harry followed it, leaning into his second dive of the day.

He followed the glimmer of gold toward the grass, tuning out the rest of the world. Inches above the ground, Harry caught it, closing his fist firmly around the cool metal.

"Harry Potter catches the Snitch! Gryffindor defeats Slytherin 220 to 30!"

Harry landed, the rest of the team quickly joining him, trapping him in a group hug.

It had been a truly great game.

As the team began to head to the locker room, Harry's good mood was interrupted by an angry voice.

"You think that was funny, Potter?"

There was Malfoy, still looking furious.

"Yeah, actually, I did find it funny," Harry retorted, having no patience for Malfoy's whining.

"You'll regret that, Potter."

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Tell Daddy?"

At Harry's comment, Malfoy's face darkened.

"What would you know about having a father, Potter?"

Harry heard a sudden outbreak of whispering and realized that a small crowd had gathered around to watch them.

As much as he hated to admit it, that comment had hurt.

"I would take my situation over yours any day, Malfoy. At least my father wasn't a coward."

"Take that back, Potter!"

"No! I'll call anyone a coward who kneels at the feet of a sadistic madman!"

More whispers from the crowd. This was not good.

"You dare insult the Dark Lord?"

Malfoy said it in a voice Harry had never heard him use before. Instead of sounding like a spoiled brat, Malfoy sounded dangerous.

"Yes. I dare."

Malfoy smirked at him. It was full of something Harry easily identified as hate.

"You'd best be careful what you say, Potter. If you don't, you'll end up meeting the same end as your Blood-Traitor father and your Mudblood mother."

People full-on gasped at that. Harry didn't care what they thought.

The words he said next were laced with a determination he had never felt before.

"I'd be proud to die like they did, Malfoy. At least they were brave enough to die fighting. Your father and his band of cronies live their lives on their knees. I'd rather die than do that."

With that, Harry turned away and headed back to the castle, trying to ignore the fact that Malfoy might be right. Harry was quite likely to die, sooner rather than later.

Thoughts of his death quickly fled his mind as the rest of the afternoon passed in a swirl of homework and preparations for the customary Gryffindor Victory Party that would be happening that night.

By the time the party started that evening, Fred and George had somehow procured large amounts of Butterbeer and an enormous quantity of food. Harry still wasn't sure exactly how they managed to pull off these parties. At this point, he thought it best not to ask.

The party stretched past midnight, and Harry found himself settled on a couch with George, engaged in a fierce game of Exploding Snap with Neville, Ron, and Fred. After playing several rounds, Harry felt his sleepless night catching up with him.

He encouraged the others to keep playing, deciding to rest his eyes for a bit. He was so tired, he barely noticed as he drifted closer to George. As his fatigue grew, he ended up resting his head on something warm, completely unaware that it was George's shoulder.

He was awoken around an hour later by McGonagall arriving to break up the party. When he realized that he had been sleeping on George, Harry felt his face begin to burn.

"I'm so sorry, George! I didn't mean to fall asleep on you!" Harry apologized, mortified.

"No worries, Harrikins! I'm glad you deemed me worthy of being your pillow."

Harry blushed redder.

As they got ready for bed, Ron and Neville kept exchanging knowing glances.

"You looked pretty comfortable on George's shoulder, Harry!" Ron said, clearly amused about something.

Harry was confused.

"It was just an accident. I was tired."

"Whatever you say, Harry," Neville said, sarcastically, giving Ron another meaningful glance.

"I have no idea what you two are on about."

"We know, Harry," Ron said, holding back a yawn.

"You'll figure it out eventually."

Harry lay awake for a bit after that, wondering what in Merlin's name his friends were talking about.

A/N: Ron and Neville ship it, but Harry is completely oblivious! He's such an idiot sometimes :)

I hope this chapter makes everyone feel better after the last two. I decided that Harry needed some happy times!

Next chapter is coming SATURDAY and will see the publication of Harry's article and Umbridge's...less than pleasant reaction.

Thank you to everyone who has liked, followed, or commented! I really appreciate all of you :)