Ascension: The Silver Spears

by Define Anachronistic

(AU) Harry Potter is different. No one is more aware of this than him. His relatives acknowledge his existence only when necessary and despite growing up surrounded by creature comforts, everything he has ever owned is either a hand me down, stolen, scavenged or lent to him out of pity. He has no one to rely on. He tells himself that he prefers it that way. But no man is an island.

16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Invitation

It went without saying, but everyone was overjoyed to see Terry alive and well after his ordeal.

For about five minutes.

Harry got to watch the cycle repeat itself a few times. First, Anthony wouldn't let go of his brother, telling him how relieved he was that Terry hadn't been hurt. Then he seemed to remember what led them here in the first place and became furious at him. "I warned you this was going to happen! Don't you ever think?!" He had shouted in his face. The Aurors had to tell him to calm down several times as they escorted the four of them to their outpost.

Then Terry's parents had arrived just after the boys had completed their statements. Joan and Robert smothered Terry with hugs and kisses, enough to make Michael snicker. At least until they heard how Terry had gotten himself captured in the first place. Even Joan was furious with him. "We taught you better than that!" She scolded her ashamed looking son. The Commander had reverted into his previous professionalism as he asked to interrogate the Hag. Before he left, he thanked the other three for saving Terry, and Harry was pleased to see that he didn't shy away from thanking Michael.

What Harry hadn't expected was the school's reaction and, somehow, that was the worst one. Professor Flitwick, after making sure Terry was alright after a good night's rest, gave him detention every Saturday until Easter, and banned him from Hogsmeade until September. That wasn't even the worst part. He also removed one hundred points from Ravenclaw. To say that this made him unpopular within the House of the Wise would be an understatement, and it made the other three unpopular by association.

While the Ravenclaws acted as though Terry had committed some horrible crime, Hufflepuff, who had been in second place, treated him like their hero, but in a very mocking way. "Thanks for the lead, Boot!" Was often shouted at him in the corridor, or "You're an honorary 'Puff now!"

Susan Bones seemed to enjoy hissing the latter across the aisle at him during class. Terry didn't seem to think it was much of an honour.

Harry, Anthony and Michael did their best to support Terry, not letting him go anywhere alone in case the verbal attacks became something more, hanging out with him in the dorms in order to avoid the common room and even trying to come up with activities, both Potion and Muggle related, to take his mind of things. But none of it worked, as Terry remained in a sombre mood even when they reached February.

Harry wouldn't have been all that worried, if it weren't for Anthony's reaction to his brother's new mood. "I've never seen him like this." Anthony said, as the two made their way back from Potions Club. Michael had finally given up on the academic clubs when the new term began, and Terry had stopped leaving his dorms for anything but classes, even taking his meals in his dorm. "He sulks when he gets caught doing something wrong, obviously, but he always snaps back really quickly."

"Has he ever messed up this badly?"

"No." Anthony grimaced. "I suppose we'll just have to wait a little longer."

Harry nodded. "What did the Commander say about the Hag?"

Anthony sighed as they began the climb up the winding staircase. "He still has no idea how it managed to get through Hogsmeade Barrier."

Harry hummed, thoughtfully. The Hogsmeade Barrier was almost as powerful as Hogwarts'. Layers upon layers of protective spells had been placed on the land and boundaries over the last ten centuries, done by countless generations of the most powerful and learned sorcerers who had ever taught at this school. This had left both the school and neighbouring town untouchable by anything except a handful of the most powerful Dark Sages over the last millennia. Therefore, it was already considered fact by the investigating Aurors that the Hag could not have crossed the town's boundary on its own. Whoever had sent the letter had wanted Terry to get eaten and they had gone to an extraordinary effort to do so.

Harry wished he could say that he shared Terry's dark mood, but he had found a new balance after the Hogsmeade incident. It made him feel like a bad friend, feeling so content while Terry was in clear turmoil, but their misadventure with the Hag had affected them both in different ways.

Harry had always been a bit of a worrier. For as long as he could remember he had always dreaded the familiar feelings of anxiety that would pool in his stomach, a heated and heavy sensation that would crawl into his chest and up into his throat whenever a new stressor entered his life. That was why he went out of his way to be so neat and orderly, kept himself to a strict schedule and always tried to plan ahead so that he would have time to prepare for any new surprises that might occur. It wasn't because he liked control, but because he hated being out of control. It was only when he became used to new circumstances, that he allowed himself to grow comfortable and lax in both his attitude and preparations.

The Hogsmeade incident was different. By all accounts he should be feeling more anxious than ever, he and Terry had almost died after all. But there was something about the act of fighting that set his body and mind ablaze, not with fear or nerves, but with excitement. When he had fought the Hag, Harry had only felt the rush of adrenaline and the feeling of triumph when he had won. It was the most fun he had ever had, more than flying, messing around with his friends or even Quidditch. It was a thrill nothing else could match.

For that reason, Harry returned eagerly for the next Silver Spears meeting. He told himself it was to help Robert and the other students like him, but that wasn't the whole truth. The spell he had learned in this secret club had saved his life, so of course Harry would be eager to learn more. It was just as Quirrell had said, the magic itself wasn't the problem, it was the way it was being taught.

So, Harry would learn new and useful magic, help Eliza in her mission to gather evidence against Slughorn, and stop Robert and all the other vulnerable students from making a mistake they couldn't take back. It was a no-lose scenario for everyone involved. Well, except for Slughorn, of course.

"Are you actually going to practice, or just stand there like a fool?" Eliza asked, her body language enough to show her disdain for him.

Harry rolled his eyes under the shadow of his hood. "I was simply waiting for you to finish." He said politely. He wanted to snap at her, but she was his only ally down here and he didn't want to alienate her.

Eliza stepped to one side, giving Harry a clear view of the now dog sized Acromantula. "By all means, show me how a master works." Her tone was light, but her mocking words made it was obvious she was still irradiated by her failure to master the Confundus Charm.

Even though she couldn't see his face, Harry still repressed a smirk. Just because he was having better luck with his spell work now didn't mean he suddenly forgot the bitter sting of failure. With new confidence in his wand, he approached the glass cage and levelled his wand at the furious Acromantula. "Carpe Noctem!"

The jet of pitch-black shadow that shot from the end of his wand moved through the glass as though it wasn't even there. Just like all other Illusion Spells, the Nightmare Hex only effected sentient beings. Harry's spell struck the Acromantula, causing it to freeze in fear, but only for a moment. It soon turned that fear into more anger slamming itself against the unbreakable glass.

Eliza snorted. "Here, let me show you how it's done. "Carpe Noctem!" When her spell hit the giant spider, it didn't just freeze; It tried to flee from a non-existent predator, skittering its many hairy legs against the glass, failing to find safety. Harry rolled his eyes as he could practically sense Eliza's smugness from here. He wanted to point out that he had only one attempt with the hex, while she had lost count of hers.

"You're spell work is flawless, my dear, but you may want to remove the Hex. Death by fear is a very real possibility." Slughorn told Eliza as he approached, and she immediately lowered her wand. He turned to Harry now. "Not bad for your first effort but do keep trying. Both here and in your own time. Remember, if a creature is capable of instinct, then it is vulnerable to fear." Harry nodded stiffly, wondering where he could find giant spiders to practice on in his own time.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Now that February had arrived, so had the fourth game of the Quidditch season; Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor. The entire team was on edge after the third game's results, and Robert made clear why during their next practice.

"Hufflepuff beat Slytherin, 160-110." Robert stood in front of his seated team looking grim. "If we don't beat Gryffindor, we'll just be fighting to defend third place when we play Slytherin in May."

Michael frowned. "What was it you said before? "Stay focused on the match you're already playing", or something? Instead of worrying about what's gonna happen in May, we should focus on beating Gryffindor next week."

Maria snorted. "Which one of you is the Captain again?" Now that Robert was back to his usual self, the team, or at least Eddie and Maria, felt comfortable teasing him again.

Robert ignored her. "You make a good point." He told Michael, smiling. Michael practically beamed in return. He had been in a good mood ever since Robert had apologised for being weird with him for so long. Harry thought it was nice seeing the brothers back to form.

"Gryffindor has a strong Keeper," Harry smothered a grin when he saw how irritated Marcus looked, "and three great Chasers. Their Seeker didn't perform well in the opening match, but it's been three months since then, so they may have improved. Our problem is the Weasley Twins." Maria huffed and even Eddie looked a little sour. "Great aim, good strength, phenomenal coordination. If they both come after you at the same time, you've got a problem."

Harry grimaced. "I don't like the way you looked at me when you said that last bit."

"Unlike with Hufflepuff, I'd say we were evenly matched with Gryffindor." The team, especially the Beaters, perked up at this. "The only way we outstrip them is that our Seeker has proven he can spot a Snitch. Gryffindor know that too after the last match, so it makes sense they'll try to knock you out of the game as soon as possible."

Harry sighed. "So, I should just catch the Snitch as fast as possible?"

Robert deliberated. "Depends on whether or not we can maintain a lead. Remember-"

"If we're thirty points behind, we won't catch up so just catch the Snitch?" Harry guessed.

Robert smiled. "Glad to know you pay attention."

When Robert led the way out of the changing room and towards the pitch, Maria and Eddie pulled Harry back to speak with him.

"They're not going to touch you." Maria said intensely. "Fred and George. We won't let them get near you." Eddie nodded at her side, looking just as serious.

Harry had never seen them so grim before. "You can't promise that. I know anything can happen during a game."

Eddie shook his head. "Not after last year. I'm not letting them beat us again."

"I thought you guys were friends?"

Maria pursed her lips. "Yeah, which is why we can't lose to them two years in a row. They are so annoying."

Eddie nodded. "We'll keep them away, so you just better catch that Snitch." Harry could do nothing but nod.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The fortnight before the game, Harry cut back on his extracurriculars, or at least the ones he was officially signed up for. Both the Silver Spears meetings and the private lessons with Quirrell went ahead as planned, and the latter was even more interesting than usual.

Even though it had been weeks since Quirrell had first brought it up, Harry still hadn't figured out how to pivot in a duel. His initial duelling style of betting it all on one big gambit came so naturally to him that it was next to impossible to even think of a backup plan in the heat of the moment. Most duels, or at least the ones Harry had seen, were rather short, hardly lasting for more than one or two minutes. Harry's duels with Quirrell (although it would be generous to classify their an uneven back and forth as such) rarely lasted for more than thirty seconds, and even then, it was only because Quirrell would be feeling magnanimous that day.

This particular evening, Harry had entered the abandoned classroom first, as he always did, and waited at the front row desk by the window, also as he always did. The only thing that was different was his resolve. No matter what happened, no matter how foolish or nervous he would feel in the moment, he would try to adapt during today's duel.

While he was still busy psyching himself up, Harry felt a disturbance in the air behind him. He shot to his feet, reaching behind with his left hand for his chair and forward with the right, grabbing hold of the table to his side. One after the other, the chair first, Harry threw them both behind him, without even looking at his attacker.

A few weeks ago, after Quirrell had mocked him for his post-Christmas stagnation, Harry had made the mistake of blaming his repeated opening attack. In his defence, Harry had long grown used to Quirrell shooting some kind of binding spell at him as he entered the room. But while Harry would consider that a reasonable criticism, Quirrell had taken it personally.

This was now the fourth lesson to begin with a random and unexpected attack, but the first invisible one. Harry was eager to avoid capture, as Quirrell liked to give him lectures on Martial Magic while Harry was still bound. Last week, he had used a juvenile schoolyard hex, leaving Harry hanging from his ankle until his vision began to blur.

Today, he was ready. Harry didn't wait to see if the thrown furniture had struck his foe. He ran for the much sturdier teacher's desk, clumsily rolling over the top and landing in an undignified heap behind it, just in time for a Pus-Filled-Boil Curse to strike the chalkboard above his head. He did not want to be struck with that a second time.

Squinting his eyes to protect his vision from the falling dust, Harry pressed the tip of his wand against the desk. "Depulso!" The table went rocketing to the back of the classroom and Harry heard Quirrell scoff, as a Reductor Curse reduced the table to smithereens.

"How many times are you going to fall back on that old trick?" Unfortunately, his voice didn't reveal his location the way Harry had hoped. But that was okay, because Harry was about to pivot.

Scrambling onto the teacher's chair, Harry flicked his wand underneath himself. "Locomotor!" A frightened yelp tore its way out of his throat as the chair rocketed to the back of the classroom with unexpected speed. However, it wasn't enough to stop Harry from attacking. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" As Harry flew down the length of the classroom, he shot Stunning Spells along the side of the room he had seen Quirrell's Reductor Curse emerge from.

Harry leapt to the side, just as the chair was about to collide with the back wall. Prepared for a counterattack (as the sound of a grown man's body hitting the ground had been conspicuously absent) Harry used his momentum to roll to the corner of the classroom, shielding himself underneath desks.

That wasn't his best idea.

"Oppugno!" Quirrell called out. Harry had no idea what that spell did, but it didn't take him long to figure it out. Feeling movement above his head, he glanced up only to see the table's front legs rise up. Harry moved out of the way as quickly as he could, but it wasn't quick enough. Instead of striking him in the head, one of the metal legs caught him in soft point between his left shoulder and collarbone. It must have struck a nerve or something because Harry felt a sharp pain shoot down arm making his arm spasm and his fingers twitch in reflex.

Gritting his teeth, Harry did his best to ignore the pain, and continued his retreat to the corner of the room. When he saw the table coming for a second attack in his peripheral, Harry flicked his wand at it. "Finite Incantatem!" The table froze and then reverted back to its natural state.

Angry now, Harry crouched in the corner, planning his next attack. "Protego! Locomotor!" Quirrell's Dangling Jinx was dissipated by his Shield Charm, and his Mouth-Sealing Curse was blocked by the remains of the teacher's chair, the curse reducing it to splinters. What little was left of the chair fell to ground, adding to the pile of splinters that had already been left by the teacher's desk.

Another idea popped into Harry's mind as he struggled to defend himself. "Accio Desks!" Harry deliberately fell onto his backside, wincing a little as he landed on the hard stone floor, just in time for a second Pus-Filled-Boil Curse to barley miss his face. Raising both of his legs slightly, Harry braced himself against the flat surface of the two incoming desks with his feet, using their momentum to slide himself backwards across the floor until his back was pressed against the wall. The last thing he needed was Quirrell sneaking behind him while he was preparing his next attack.

"Fianto Duri! Fianto Duri!" Harry cast the Unbreakable Charm twice in rapid succession on each of the desks he was hiding behind. While he had never cast the spell before, he needed it to protect him while he worked. Even if it just stopped one of Quirrell's spells from distracting him, it would have been worth it.

In the small crack between the desk, Harry aimed his wand at the large pile of splinters. "Acusignis! Depulso!" Quirrell's two Body-Bind Curses were enough to break both the protective spells and the desks underneath them. However, there was enough shelter left for Harry to hide his body behind as his tornado of sharp needles flew in every direction.

The split-second Harry heard the last of the needles strike the surface he was curled up behind, he peeked his head over and saw a few dozen needles hit the ground in the opposite corner of the room instead of imbedding themselves into the door. Harry stood up quickly, snapping out, "Carpe Noctem!" taking his hard-earned chance when it presented itself.

Normally, Harry couldn't see Quirrell's finishing attack. His Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor preferred to finish things quickly in order to give him constructive criticism. But today, he saw the man's counter from a mile away and still ended up caught by it.

"Protego Horribilis!"

With just those two words, Quirrell returned Harry's most powerful spell as though he were returning a volley in a tennis game. Harry's eyes widened as the jet of malicious black light was sent back at him. Remembering himself, he jumped out of the Nightmare Hex's path, but right into Quirrell's Dangling Jinx.

"Levicorpus? Again? Really?!" Harry shouted in frustration, as he dangled six feet off the floor by his left ankle.

"Would you have preferred a harsher spell? A Nightmare Hex, perhaps?" Quirrell's tone was light, but something about him emanated rage in that moment.

Harry stopped wiggling as he hastened to explain himself. "It's the only spell I know that the Shield Charm is useless against." Harry explained. "I wanted you to defend yourself with a conjuration." He left out his idea that the remains of his conjuration would have his obscured his vision long enough for him to make his approach. "I didn't expect-! Wait, what was that spell you used?"

Quirrell seemed to cool down as he lowered Harry to the ground, none too gently. "Protego Horribilis is the Anti-Martial Shield Charm."

Harry grimaced, both from his rough landing, and from the incorrect information he had been fed. "I thought the Nightmare Hex couldn't be countered by a Shield Charm. Or at least that's what Slughorn said." Harry climbed to his feet and hobbled over to one of the only undamaged seats. "I wouldn't have used it otherwise."

"The Shield Charm can't defend its caster against Illusion Spells, that much is true." Quirrell confirmed. "However, the Anti-Martial Charm was developed to counter that weakness. It defends its caster against all Dark Magic. That includes Cognitive and Illusion Spells."

"Just Dark Magic?"

Quirrell smiled grimly. "Caught onto that, did you?" He began to wave his wand over Harry, and the boy had to bite back his sigh of relief as all of his aches and pains slowly disappeared. He did not want to seem weak after all. "Like all things, there can never be a gain without a loss, never a strength without a weakness."

Harry recalled Ollivander writing something similar in his letter and Quirrell only confirmed it. "Something must always be sacrificed. The Shield Charm protects against most Martial Spells yes, but only the ones that would damage your physical person. The Anti-Martial Charm protects only against Dark Magic, but does nothing against other forms of attack, Transfigurations or Elemental Spells for example."

Harry began to catch on. "So, no matter what defence my opponent counters with, I have to use a spell or technique that would bypass it."

Quirrell nodded. "Until one of you falters." He waved his arm as if to indicate the war-torn classroom. "As you just did." He smirked at Harry's defeated sigh, before saying, "I'm glad the Slughorn's lessons are at least teaching you a thing or two. Is there anything to report on that front?"

Harry shook his head. "He's still bringing in infant Acromantula to cast our spells on, and he only ever provides instruction. Eliza pointed out that he never actually casts the spells himself." He reported. "Even Myrose looks completely unaffected, so the Memory Charm must be working perfectly. I'm starting to think you should just bring a couple of Aurors to our next meeting and catch him red handed."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not?" Harry asked, frustrated. "You said the students won't be blamed and their teacher would be held accountable. We should stop him now before he does any more damage!" Harry knew the sooner the Silver Spears was ended, the less affect it had on the student's futures. Although, he was really only thinking about Robert's professed political aspirations.

"An investigation into Britain's premier magical school would require a warrant from the Chief Warlock's office and the go ahead from the British Auror Commander."

Harry shrugged. "So?"

Quirrell looked annoyed. "So, both Chief Warlock Maddox and Commander Boot are former favourites of Slughorn."

"You really think they'll let him know what's going on?"

"If they don't, someone else in their offices will. That's the tricky thing about people like Slughorn. They go to all the effort of gathering favours from up and comers, and appealing to the already powerful, that they end up with all sorts of friends in high places." Quirrell still looked annoyed, whether at how slow Harry was being, or at Slughorn's modus operandi. "All it takes is one person hearing or seeing the wrong thing and Slughorn won't be anywhere near the Silver Spears when we try to catch him."

Harry breathed through his nose, frustrated. "So how are we supposed to catch him then?"

Quirrell spoke firmly now, leaving no room for contention. "You leave that to me."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Days before the game, Harry and Michael had managed to drag Terry out of his dorm so that he could join them down at Hagrid's. "I don't want to go!" Terry hissed, trying to keep his protests quiet as the other two frog-marched him out of the common room. He needn't have bothered; Heads turned as he passed, glaring at him.

"Don't blame me for this, okay? It was Harry's idea."

Harry glared at Michael, before turning back to Terry. "I didn't want to say anything in there," Harry jerked his head back the way they came, "but we're going to be planning Anthony's birthday while he's at Chess Club."

Terry's eyes widened in understanding. Over the last month, Christopher had been overzealous in his enforcement of school rules whenever Terry was involved. He had taken the loss of points after the Hogsmeade incident as a personal insult and sought retribution by making Terry's life miserable, hounding him at every turn. If he heard about a surprise party they were throwing, he might take it upon himself to crash it.

When they neared the entrance to the Library Tower, they came across Draco Malfoy and his two goons. Harry groaned under his breath. Malfoy was an annoying suck up most of the time, but like everyone else who disliked Terry before the Hogsmeade Incident, he had smelled blood in the water after the one-hundred-point loss. They all knew the older Ravenclaw kids were less likely to defend him now, so Harry, Anthony and Michael had to make sure he never went anywhere alone.

"Boot! Finally crawled out of your hidey-hole?" Malfoy called as they approached. "I was beginning to think your parents withdrew you." Terry looked like he wanted to retort but was clearly thinking about further punishments he'd receive if things escalated.

Harry had no such concerns. "It's good of Crabbe and Goyle to take you to the library, Malfoy. How they have the patience to tutor such a dim student, I'll never know."

Harry had learned that Malfoy had a fragile pride and was easily provoked because of it. He proved that now as his cheeks pinkened as he retorted hotly, "These morons aren't my tutors!" He didn't seem to notice his cronies side eyeing him, clearly insulted.

Harry couldn't resist stirring the pot. "So even they couldn't get through your thick skull?" He sighed. "You're here waiting for your next tutor, are you?"

"I don't need tutoring! I'm a real wizard!"

"I don't think real wizards feel the need to announce that fact to the entire world."

Malfoy looked like he was about to say something, face now red, before he caught on that Harry was just messing with his head. Cutting to the chase, he said, "Grab the little one." He jerked his head at Terry, and Crabbe and Goyle moved to obey.

Whatever is was he had planned for Terry, Harry and Michael weren't going to let it happen. Michael stepped forward to meet Goyle (or was it Crabbe? Well, it was the stockier of the two) and in no time at all, they were grappling, each trying to grab the other in a headlock.

Harry watched this for a moment, incredulous that two wizards would choose to fight physically instead of magically, before he noticed that the taller of Malfoy's cronies had moved right past him and grabbed Terry. Drawing his wand, Harry pointed it at Malfoy first. "Oscausi!" The blonde clearly didn't expect an attack on his person, he hadn't even drawn his wand, but Harry already knew what he wanted to do with these three.

Turning now to Crabbe, who had abandoned Terry and was rapidly approaching him in order to defend Malfoy, Harry flicked his wand right in his face. "Confundo!" Crabbe had the same reaction all confounded individuals did; He froze, shuddered, and then he enacted the caster's will.

Crabbe turned to Malfoy, furious. "What did you say?!" He demanded. Malfoy backed away, looking alarmed. He tried to say something, but it only came out as muffled grunts, but Crabbe looked even more enraged when he heard them. "I am sick of you always calling me stupid!" He punched the silent boy once on the side of his face and the blow was strong enough to knock him off his feet.

Harry released the Confundus Charm at that point. Gathering Terry, who was staring at Crabbe in shock, and Michael who was looking at him strangely, Harry led his friends away before a Prefect or a member of staff could arrive. Goyle was looking concerned, not over Malfoy, but Crabbe.

"Are you alright, Vincent?" Harry heard him ask with surprising softness.

"Yeah, I think." Crabbe replied, dazed. "Greg? That felt really good." Harry didn't hear Goyle's response to this as they rounded the corner.

"What was that?" Terry asked, sounding more like his usual self than he had for month.

"The Confundus Charm."

"Can you teach it to me?"

Harry felt his heart skip a beat at the very idea of it. "No." Harry said, hoarsely, horrified by the possible consequences of giving Terry such power.

Terry looked like he was about to argue, but Michael cut him off. "That was Dark Magic." He said quietly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Any spell that hurts another person, any Martial Spell, is classified as a part of the Dark Arts. It doesn't mean it's necessarily bad."

Michael frowned. "You bewitched him!"

Harry nodded. He wanted to shrug, but with what he knew about his friend's background, this wasn't something he could treat lightly in front of him. "Aurors use it on Muggles who find out about magic but haven't had their memories wiped yet. It's a simple spell, relatively speaking, that leaves no lasting damage on the person it was casted upon."

"You just got here months ago." Michael hissed. "You can't know if it's safe just by reading some old books!"

"I used it on the Hag, just last month." Harry said honestly. "I put it in my statement and the Aurors said I used the correct spell for the situation."

Michael's mouth clicked close, but he still looked upset. Harry promised himself, then and there, to never let him know his brother was a member of a Dark Arts secret society. For his part, Terry just looked put out that no one would be teaching him the Confundus Charm.

They continued the walk down to Hagrid's in silence.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Things remained tense between them for days. Things were tense with the team too, now that even a chance at the Quidditch Cup was put on the table. In fact, things were tense everywhere Harry went, or at least it felt that way. He needed a break, a way to blow off some steam and, hopefully, pull his group of friends closer together. So, he presented his idea to the others, late one evening on Valentine's day, while everyone else was at the two parties thrown by the Slytherins and they were busy completing their Runic Complex deconstruction homework in Anthony's dorm.

"You want to what?"

Harry had been prepared for Anthony's initial refusal, but he hadn't expected Michael to be the first to question his idea. "I want to mess with the Gryffindor Quidditch team." Harry repeated himself calmly. "Preferably, a few days before the game."

"You want to knock them out of the running." Harry wasn't sure if Michael was scowling because of his suggestion, or because his guess at the Runic Complex's purpose was so clearly wrong.

Harry denied it quickly. "If I wanted them out of the running, I'd say we should prank them the morning of the match. But I want them to play." He stressed that last part, not wanting his Quidditch obsessed friend to think he was playing around with the integrity of the sport he loved.

"So, what's the point then?" Anthony asked, lounging in his bed while the others were struggling with their homework on the floor. "Just to annoy them?"

"Yeah!" Harry was pleased someone was getting it. "The Gryffindor team have been walking around the castle like they've already won, just because they beat us last year."

Michael hummed. "They do need to be knocked down a peg or two. What were you thinking?"

Harry smiled. Half the reason he wanted to do this was to kill the tense atmosphere that remained between he and Michael. "I have a few ideas. But we're gonna need our exceptionally talented friends to lend us a hand." Together they both turned to look at Anthony and Terry. For anyone who hadn't been paying attention over the last month, their differing reactions may have been surprising.

Before Terry could say a word, Anthony smiled, sitting up in his bed looking excited. "Whatever the plan is, I'm in. Terry?" He was smiling cheerfully, but his eyes were watching his brother carefully. "How about you?"

"Are you joking?" Terry looked incredulous. "People already hate me for losing us first place for the House Cup and they hate you lot because you're my friends. Why make it worse?" His tone was a mix of sadness and anger, the other student's poor treatment of him had affected him even worse than Harry had guessed.

"Who cares what anyone else thinks?" Michael asked. "If what they thought matters, I'd be in Azkaban for the crime of being born!"

"You're my brother, you little idiot." Anthony snapped, cutting off whatever Terry had been about to say to Michael. "I want you back to normal. Watching you behave yourself is stressing me out."

Terry began to chuckle at that but cut himself off. He looked at Harry now. "You really want my help on this?"

Harry grinned. "To be honest with you, half the reason I planned this was to get you out of the dumps."

Terry gave a defeated sigh, before he returned the smile. "Alright then. What do you need our help with?"

Harry reached for his bag, waving Anthony closer. "A few things, actually." He said, removing his blue Quidditch jersey from his bag, along with his sketchpad.

Together, the four boys began to plan.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

After days of planning and preparation, they were ready to act. On the early hours of Thursday morning, hours before even the earliest of early birds would rise, Harry left Ravenclaw tower under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak. He carried with him a schoolbag filled with supplies, his Quidditch goggles which Anthony had enchanted to help him see better in the dark and his trusty kindjal.

He returned to Ravenclaw tower exhausted, hours later, his bag nearly empty. Harry made his way to his dorm, bone tired and nearly drained of Mana. Just three hours until breakfast, he told himself, as he slumped face first onto his bed. He was asleep in under a minute. He hadn't even taken the Invisibility Cloak off.

"You know, you shouldn't drink potions on an empty stomach." Terry said worriedly, as Harry chugged an Invigoration Draught as though it were a glass of pineapple juice. Harry had answered the door still wearing the Cloak, as his friend's knocking had woken him moments earlier. Terry had brought him the potion as planned.

"I'm about to have breakfast." Harry shrugged. "Besides, if I fall asleep in my porridge, don't you think they'll realise who's behind everything."

"They'll already know it's a Ravenclaw." Terry argued as they descended the stairs.

Harry felt the rush of potion finally hit him, as he felt as though he'd just had the best night's sleep of his life. "But not a First Year." He saw Terry's worried expression as they entered the common room and Anthony and Michael stood to join them to breakfast. "If it makes you feel better, I'll promise to avoid drinking potions without a good meal first. Or at least, I'll ty to avoid making a habit out of it."

Terry rolled his eyes. "I think that's the best I'm going to get, so I'll just take it."

"Smart man." Harry smiled, as the four made their way to breakfast. They were all eager to see everyone's reactions to the most immediately obvious of their labours.

As the four joined the usual march down the main staircase, they heard sounds of confusion, jeers, cheers and boos from the Entrance Hall. When it came into sight, there was a dozen or so O.W.L students from both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, hanging around the doors to the Great Hall, debating over the school's latest artwork, while the bored or disinterested students walked around them.

"You wish!" One Fourth Year Gryffindor boy was at the centre of it all, in the face of a girl in the same year. "I don't care about any graffiti, Ravenclaw is gonna get destroyed on Saturday!"

The Ravenclaw girl he was arguing with scoffed, and her friends responded with foul words. "We have the better team. Hillard and Fiona are solid, Belby is better than Wood any day of the week, and Potter and Corner are still wild cards! You don't know what those two will pull!"

The boy seemed to catch her omission. "And what about your Beaters, eh? Afraid they can't stack up to the Weasley twins?" The Gryffindors around him oohed.

The girl pursed her lips, clearly not wanting to bad-mouth her own house team, but also not comfortable telling such an obvious lie. Before she could decide what to say, however, McGonagall had arrived on the scene. Just before she did, all traces of art vanished as though it had never been there.

"What on earth is going on here?" McGonagall demanded. "Arguing about a Quidditch game? On a Thursday? If you feel your schedules are so free, I could provide something to occupy your time. Detention, perhaps?" The Fourth Years scattered as quickly as possible, foregoing breakfast. McGonagall tutted, and returned to her place at the staff table. As she left, the art returned.

Michael whistled. "You did all this in a night?" He kept his voice low, so the other students examining Harry's masterpiece wouldn't hear.

On either side of the Great Hall doors, there were two large, identical scenes that were painted right onto the stone walls. It depicted seven noble eagles, all resembling a player on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and beneath them, there were seven fragile, cowardly lions, who each resembled a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. As they watched, the eagles flew over the lions' heads, showering them with droppings while the lions cried and comedically bumped into one another like fools.

"I said it before, but you're a really good artist." Anthony said, examining the walls.

Harry was embarrassed by that compliment, as the paintings had not come out as he had wished. He had hoped for a more intense scene, but his hands had a mind of their own last night, leading him to softer and rounder depictions of the animals rather than the sharp lines he had intended. Still, it was just as dynamic as he had intended and painting with the Imago spell, while different from what he was used to, was incredibly fun.

"It's only because of your work that it hasn't been taken down yet." Harry still wasn't entirely sure how he had done it, but Anthony had found a Runic Complex that was close enough for him to tweak using Numerology, and then taught Harry how to do it. His work is what kept all of last night's efforts a secret from Prefects and members of staff.

Terry cleared his throat. Harry sighed. "I'm sure your work will be equally as great. We just won't be likely to see it."

Michael cleared his throat. Terry huffed as they finally entered the Great Hall. "You didn't even do anything!"

"I was the assistant!"

Terry sighed. "I just told you that so you'd stop touching my cauldron. I didn't actually need someone to hand me my ingredients." Harry hid his amusement, but Anthony openly chuckled.

Michael was starting to look genuinely upset, so Harry stepped in. "Michael, your role is the most obvious and important of all. Win on Saturday. Otherwise, everything we did becomes the scared underhanded tactics of a desperate team, rather than the...err," Harry struggled to find the right words.

Anthony stepped in, trying to help. "Rather than the brave underhanded tactics of a desperate team." Harry stared at him, but Anthony seemed to be embarrassed enough without him needing to say anything. "Yeah, I know. That was nonsense." He sighed.

Michael was nodding, not having heard Anthony's fumble as he had been lost in his daydreams for the last minute. "Yeah," he said, happily, "I'm gonna thrash them on Saturday."

That feeling was mutual between the teams. Harry's idea of knocking the Gryffindors down a peg had only served to fire them up even more. No member of either team could walk down the corridor without someone threatening them. "The Weasleys say they're gonna knock you off your broom in under a minute, Potter!" was a common jeer he heard that week.

It probably wouldn't have gotten nearly this bad if it had just been the painting outside the Great Hall, but of course it wasn't. Last night, Harry had entered Gryffindor Tower, using a password he had learned by following a group of Second Years to their common room while under his Cloak. Harry had used his kindjal to enter the dorms of each member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and douse all of their clothes with an aerosol version of the Perception Potion that Terry had given him. Until they washed their clothes, the wearer and only the wearer, would see themselves wearing the blue and bronze Ravenclaw Quidditch uniform.

Harry's favourite was the final piece. All over the castle, suits of armour, statues and busts would all give commentary of the Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor as though it were currently taking place. "McLaggen was struck by two Bludgers in the opening seconds of the game. What a disappointing defence by the Gryffindor Beaters." This was the most common recording that was played, and it was done in Michael's best impression of Lee's voice (Michael was the only one of them whose voice was deep enough).

Ravenclaw house reacted to this with hilarity, appreciating the idea of the Gryffindors being on the back foot after their weeks of boasting. But that idea never came into fruition. The Gryffindor team remained stoic throughout all of this psychological warfare, not getting emotional as Harry had intended. If anything, they seemed more focused now than they did before.

Except for the Seeker. He still hadn't gotten used to wearing a red and gold uniform like his older teammates, and the continuing threat of future injury from inanimate objects seemed to be getting to him. So much so, that by the time Ravenclaw and Gryffindor met at the centre of the pitch on Saturday, Cormac McLaggen looked a bit of a jumpy mess.

Hooch had to prompt Robert and Wood to shake each other's hands as they were both too busy regarding the other with a concerning amount of contempt. Once they had done so, she released the balls in their specific order and directed the players to mount their brooms and hover.

Harry kept his focus, his grip on his broom was tight as they all hovered at a standstill, twenty feet off the ground. He didn't allow anything, not the sounds of the crowd or the Weasley twins' identical malicious grins, to distract him from following the plan. He, like everyone else in the stadium, waited for Hooch to start the match.

The second he heard Hooch give the signal, Harry was off. Behind him, the six Chasers were scrambling for the thrown Quaffle, barging into each other as they chased the falling ball. The four Beaters had split up from their usual pairs, each against an opposing player as they hunted a Bludger to smash, just as the two Seekers began to search for the Snitch. Or rather, Harry hunted for the Snitch and Cormac tried to tail him.

Harry had to give credit where it was due. Cormac might not be a good Seeker, from what he had heard at least, but he was an excellent flier. He was both fast enough to keep up with Harry, and skilled enough to avoid the Bludgers Maria and Eddie sent his way.

In fact, he was smart enough to keep his distance just enough for Fred and George to have clear lines of attack. More than once, Harry was forced into an elaborate display of his aerial manoeuvrability, while the Ravenclaw Beaters battled for control over the Bludgers. Harry was in such a tight spot in fact, that he hadn't been able to keep a close eye on the score for the first ten minutes of the game. It was only during a short breather, while Eddie chased one Bludger and Maria was striking another at Cormac, that he was finally able to tune into the commentary.

"What started off as a neck and neck game is quickly starting to lean into Gryffindor's favour. Oliver is a quick study, and he seems to have caught onto Fiona's tricks. Johnson and Bell manage to get another one pass Belby, bringing the score to 50-30 Gryffindor."

Harry rolled his broom around, avoiding an incoming Bludger. He had spent the entire game on the defensive, unable to help his Chasers as he would have liked, but Robert had stressed to not to get involved with the Quaffle play this time around. Leading the Weasley twins into the fray would not end well for the Ravenclaw team.

So instead, Harry did what he could to make things easier on Maria and Eddie. He flew high, in an erratic style, as though he were trying to shake off Cormac from him tail. But that was the last thing he wanted.

Once he had a bird's eye view of the pitch, Harry pretended to glance around anxiously, as though all he wanted was to end this game in Ravenclaw's favour, right before diving back down, as though he had just seen the Snitch.

It was clearly a feint, and not one he would try against a proven Seeker like Cedric, but he was hoping that Cormac's rumoured difficulty in spotting the Snitch had at least a shade of accuracy to it. He levelled out thirty feet from the grass, not far from a lurking Maria, and began to stretch his arm out as though he was trying to grab the Snitch.

"This game might be over before half-time! It looks like Potter has seen the Snitch!" Lee's shout preceded the sudden cheers of encouragement from the Ravenclaws and fearful shouts of the Gryffindors.

That's good, Harry thought, the more of you who believe it, the easier it is for me to sell.

Harry couldn't see if Cormac were following him but judging by Maria's winding batting arm as he neared the Ravenclaw goalposts where she was lurking, he was willing to bet he was. Just as Harry began to hear one of the twins shout behind him, he dived, barely missing the Bludger Maria aimed for his centre mass.

Harry had been obscuring her from Cormac's vision up until now, and he dived just soon enough for her to get a clear shot at a close target, and she made the most of the opportunity. Harry heard a hard thud from above him, and as he turned his broom back towards the pitch, he saw Cormac plummet to earth from over thirty feet.

It wasn't a gentle landing.

"Ooh! That looked like it hurt! A dirty move there from Ravenclaw, but it can't be said that it wasn't effective. With their Seeker out for the half, can Gryffindor maintain their lead?"

Harry already began his search for the Snitch in earnest. As already agreed upon, Maria left him in order to go help their Chasers. Ideally, Eddie would be there too, but as Harry quickly found out, there was a price to be paid for their earlier strategy.

"And there he goes! Carmichael has been knocked off his broom! I don't know what Acardi was thinking abandoning her partner like that, but Ravenclaw has traded a Beater for a Seeker! Will they most of the opportunity?"

Harry intended to. While Maria went to give the Chasers a little breathing room, he was left behind with a pair of determined twins. They went back and forth, one after the other, hitting the Bludger at Harry over and over again. Harry wanted to say that he could take it, but after fifteen minutes of relentless attacks, he was at his wit's end.

Looping around the Gryffindor goalposts for a quick breather, (they wouldn't risk hitting their Keeper, but Harry couldn't stay in the goal zone for more than ten seconds without earning himself a foul) Harry tuned back into the commentary.

"Spinnet scores again! Fiona, Hillard and Acardi all gave Corner the space he needed to score, but it looks like they couldn't maintain their comeback. It's now 90-70 Gryffindor."

Harry was incredulous. 90-70 in Gryffindor's favour after making a comeback? He hadn't even realised they had been in such dire straits. If he caught the Snitch now, they would be ending the game with a thirty-point lead.

Making up his mind, Harry flew straight for the Quaffle skirmish that was happening near the Gryffindor goalposts. While there was a chance that Ravenclaw could score, Harry was willing to sacrifice that for a chance to catch the Snitch.

Flying through the small gap between the Gryffindor Chasers, Harry did his best to lose the Weasley twins. Following their team's pre-planned tactic, Fiona and Robert moved to block Harry from their vision, risking injury by getting so close to the Gryffindor Beaters that they couldn't swing their bats. This left the Quaffle free, but Harry was certain that Michael, Maria and Marcus weren't going to let anything become of it.

Harry flew high, putting distance between himself and all the other players. The original idea had been for Harry to resort to this tactic only when he spotted the Snitch, but when Robert had come up with that plan, he had overestimated Harry's abilities. While he had been able to stay out of the Bludgers reach, he hadn't had any time to search for the Snitch.

Right now, Harry was betting on himself. If he couldn't spot the Snitch soon, it would mean Gryffindor would be too far ahead in points for Ravenclaw to catch up. Harry was gambling everything on his on ability, on his own sight, his own-

There.

It was just a fluttering glint of gold from this height, but Harry dived for it like a hunting falcon. He remained distantly aware of the danger of incoming Bludgers, but he was too focused to care about dodging them anyway. He would later learn that, while Fred and George had shaken off two thirds of the Ravenclaw Chasers, Maria had come at them with a vengeance. Robert and Fiona hurried to take her place with Marcus and Michael in defending Ravenclaw's goal posts while she defended Harry's back. As Eddie had already proven, two Beaters against one was not good odds, but Harry was too focused in that moment to even notice.

Left, down, hard right, climb, roll, climb, DIVE! Harry followed the Snitch everywhere it went, slowly gaining on it, but it was harder to chase than it usually was, almost as though it resented being hunted by only one Seeker. But it didn't matter because it was almost within arm's reach. I'm almost there- wait is that the grass?

Distantly, he heard the crowd gasp in horror as he almost slammed full speed into the pitch. Later, he would claim that he had been in complete control the entire time, but that was a complete lie, and no one was more frightened than he was in that moment.

Pulling up his broom less than three feet off the ground, his boots scrapped against the earth, slowing him down slightly as he now chased the Snitch along the ground, heading back for the Gryffindor goal posts. Above, he heard the crowd groan again as Maria fell from the sky. He was out of time and the twins would be after him soon. It was now or never.

While he had slowed down earlier, he had quickly caught back up to the Snitch. It almost got away from him, but after everything that had happened, after losing both Beaters, Harry wasn't going to let it slip out of his fingers. Extending his arm, feeling the flickering of the metallic wings against the tips of his fingers, Harry let out an exhausted, but victorious huff of air as he closed his hand against the Snitch.

Harry raised his arm in the air in triumph as he began to slow his broom down. It was a good thing too, because falling off your broom at twenty miles an hour wasn't as bad as doing it at fifty. The moment he raised his arm in the air, he felt a heavy object strike him in the right shoulder blade. Not expecting it, the blow knocked him off his broom.

Harry was lucky to hit the ground rolling, his momentum keeping him going for a few moments and his Quidditch gear taking all the friction damage. As he stood up, feeling battered, he heard a sharp whistle, the sound of a confused crowd and shouting as the remaining members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team tried to dogpile one of the Gryffindor Beaters.

"Ravenclaw wins, 120-90, after a hectic chase by Potter! Unfortunately, it seems a last second attack by George Weasley has led to a scuffle between the teams. Oh no." Lee sounded as though he were enjoying himself, while McGonagall wasn't there to reprimand him as she was hurrying onto the pitch with the other teachers, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor fans following.

"Err...I'm alright!" Harry called out, a little confused by the fuss they were making. While the Gryffindor Chasers looked just as nonplussed as he did, every other remaining player had entered the fray. Michael was shouting in the face of Fred Weasley who was shouting right back, and Robert was telling off George who was clenching his fists, red faced. While this was going on, Fiona, shy and sweet Fiona, was jabbing her finger into her brother's chest as she screamed profanities at him, while Oliver was shouting right back at both her and Marcus.

Harry would never find out exactly what he said, but it was enough to make Marcus' eyes go wide before narrowing in rage. He drew back his arm and slammed his fist into the side of Oliver's face.

That was when all hell broke loose.

Both teams had taken that as an open invitation to start beating the living daylight out of each other. Punches, kicks, bites, scratches, and even spitting. It seemed as though, in their collective rage, they had all forgotten they were witches and wizards.

Harry, eyes wide, looked at the oncoming wave of teachers and supporters, and decided it was better to just fly away now. It was a good thing too, because some crazy Gryffindor Fifth Year decided it was a good idea to come at Marcus with a flying kick.

The last thing Harry saw before he closed the door to the Ravenclaw changing room behind him, was Marcus beating the boy's face bloody.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"In retrospect, yesterday was amazing." Harry said, as they led a blindfolded Anthony down to Hagrid's house. "I never thought I'd live to see a flying kick outside of a movie before."

Terry cackled. "I still can't believe you thought it would be a good idea to get in the middle of all of that." He said to an annoyed Michael.

"Let us win. But if we cannot win, let us smash a few heads!" He stubbornly quoted the Falmouth Falcon's motto.

Terry laughed. "But you did win!"

Michael huffed. "Give it a rest, will you? I've already got nagged by Robert, the bloody hypocrite." The other three laughed at that, as Robert punching two Gryffindor Seventh Years in the throat, one after the other, right in front of a shouting McGonagall, was already becoming a school legend.

"Don't make me laugh when I'm wearing this stupid thing. I'll fall on my face." Anthony said, just as Michael pulled him out of the way of a protruding rock.

"Why are you wearing a blindfold anyway?" Harry asked.

"Because you told me to!"

"I did no such thing!"

Anthony yanked off the blindfold. "Terry!"

His brother snorted. "What? You weren't going to put it on if I told you to!"

"Exactly! What was the point if it anyway? The second you told me to put my cloak on, I knew we'd be going to Hagrid's."

Terry shrugged. "I just thought it'd be funny to make you look like an idiot." He laughed at his brother's scowl. As a side effect of the tricks they had played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Terry was back to his usual self, or at least that was what Harry told himself. In fact, Terry had only been back to normal after Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had almost been docked five points for every student who had taken part in the brawl. The only reason no one was punished was because of this morning's Daily Prophet exposé. No one cared about last month's drama anymore, so Terry was off the hook.

Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, and their professor swung the door open immediately, as though he had been waiting on the other side.

"Morning all! Come in, come in." Harry stepped aside to let Anthony go first. He rolled his eyes and Harry could hardly blame him. They hadn't exactly been subtle with the fact that they had been planning something for his birthday. However, they had definitely managed to keep what they were planning a surprise, because when Anthony stepped in Hagrid's sitting room, he was clearly caught off guard.

"SURPRISE!" Every corner of Hagrid's sitting room was filled with Anthony and Terry's family, the Chess Club and the other Ravenclaw First Years. There were balloons, streamers and a banner that read Happy Twelfth Birthday, Anthony!

"Okay, I actually wasn't expecting all of this!" Anthony said, laughing. Harry hadn't either. While the three boys had helped Hagrid set up earlier, he had a feeling one of the other adults, probably Claudia, had spruced it up a bit more with Transfiguration.

While Anthony went around greeting his family and his guests, Harry took the first opportunity he had to put his feet up and snag a sandwich from a passing Automaton. Hagrid, as a teacher, had gotten the services of the Automatons to take care of the food today. He had offered to cook for everyone, but they had already felt he had done more than enough simply offering to play host.

"Tired, are you?" Callum asked as he approached. He sat down beside Harry and passed him a chilled bottle of cherry syrup.

"You have no idea." Harry groaned melodramatically and Callum snorted. He wasn't lying though. After a hectic and exhausting match, it had taken ages for the teachers to separate all the students and then question and punish them. After that, Harry had gone to see Eddie and Maria in the Hospital Wing, both to get healed from the deep bruise the Bludger had given him and to inform them of the madness they had missed out on. As one of the only players who wasn't involved with the brawl, Harry had been questioned by both teachers and students until he had faked being too tired to talk.

"I'll bet. Have you seen the paper this morning?"

Harry raised an amused eyebrow. "I think everyone in the school has read that article by now."

The Sunday edition of The Daily Prophet had read BRAWL AT HOGWARTS! STUDENTS SPIKED WITH ILLEGAL POTION!

"Funny thing, how the paper knew about it before the students who had been affected did. A lot of parents are getting involved."

Callum nodded. "Dad's here for two reasons. One," he waved his hand to indicate the party and a beaming Stephen clapping Anthony firmly on the back, "and two, a lot of parents want to set up meetings with Dumbledore and the Board of Governors, so they need special access to Hogwarts' Floo Network. Uncle Robert and Aunt Joan are here to investigate too."

Harry nodded. "Have you heard anything about the potion used? The Bloodlust Potion?"

Callum shook his head. "I only just got in from the Magisterium a couple of hours ago. All I know was in the paper." Harry's eyes widened at the mention of the Magisterium as he began to spew a series of incessant questions to a very patient Callum. All his teachers had attended of course, but it was a different thing to ask a peer and Callum was only eighteen.

"I'm surprised he didn't use a Mouth-Sealing Curse on you." Terry said later, as they climbed the stairs to their dormitories. It was past curfew, but Hagrid had given them permission to stay out as long as they were with him. It was good to have friends in high places. "I would have if you kept nattering on at me."

Harry was too tired to feel embarrassed. "He had to leave because he had an early class tomorrow."

Michael snorted. "I'm sure that's the excuse he uses with all the girls." Terry laughed, and Harry pretended to push them both back down the stairs.

"Thanks for the new Wireless set, Harry. I really needed a new pair." Anthony said, distracting him.

"You're welcome. I bought a few albums, but I haven't got around to listening to them yet. I'd like your opinion." In fact, Harry had listened to them, but it was so different from the Muggle music he had grown up with, that he wanted to know whether the albums he had chosen were what kids actually listened to in the Wizarding World. He hoped he had simply picked out the wrong bands because it was really quite bad.

"Sure." Anthony agreed as they reach their landing. "Just let me know when."

"Harry! Just because it didn't work out with my cousin doesn't mean you should start things up with my brother!" Terry said, sounding scandalised. Michael chortled as though it were the funniest thing he had ever heard. Harry just rolled his eyes as he entered his dorm.

The moment he stepped into his room, his blood ran cold. There, sitting atop his pillow, was a letter.

This shouldn't have been a cause for alarm, except for the fact that his window was closed, and Argos wasn't within sight. Someone had been in his room. Worse, someone had been in his room and wanted him to know about it.

Harry drew his wand. "Verdimillious!" A torrent of emerald sparks flew from his wand and covered the entirety of his room. As the sparks disappeared, they did not linger over the letter. So, it wasn't Dark Magic then. "Revelio!" Again, nothing. It wasn't Transfigured to turn into anything as soon as he touched it. "Specialis Revelio!" Still nothing. It hadn't been Enchanted in anyway either.

Slowly, as he still felt like this was a trap, Harry reached for the letter. When he touched it and nothing happened, Harry felt finally safe enough to pick the letter up and open it. Ignoring, the sudden rapid knocking on his door, Harry read the following:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We, The Infamous Purveyors of Magical Mischief-Makers, have taken note of your recent activities and we whole heartedly approve.

You and your compatriots now have the most auspicious honour of being invited to join our illustrious band. Or at least the chance to join.

You will be hearing from us soon.

Yours in both mayhem and mischief,

The Marauders

As Harry was reading his letter, he went over to his door and opened it abruptly. Terry, who had still been knocking, fell face first into his room. He leapt up as though nothing had happened and said, "See! I told you Harry got one too!"

Harry looked up from his letter to see his three friends holding identical ones. After a brief moment of silence, they all rapidly swapped, exchanging letters and examining them for any differences, but aside from the names they were addressed to, all the letters were identical.

Anthony and Michael were both wearing the same confused and worried expression that he could feel on his own face. The only one who seemed happy about this was Terry, who was already making wild guesses about who The Marauders could possibly be. In that moment, Harry was only thinking one thing:

How many secret societies can one school have?