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.

21. Chapter 21

Chapter Fourteen

Duplicitous Opportunity

The night ended rather anti-climatically after that.

While Commander Boot hurried to check on Harry, Lord Dumbledore stepped right past him in order to deal with his student's attackers personally. The vast, immense gap between himself and a Sage was made clear in how he quickly he dealt with Robert.

Harry's adversary was standing tall one moment and then was crumpled on the ground, his limbs trapped by bindings made of sizzling electricity the next. Harry had not even seen Dumbledore move, nor his spells fly through the air, he was just that fast.

As the Headmaster moved to deal with the now fleeing Fallen Sun Rogue, Commander Boot finished his diagnostic charms over Harry and finally pointed his wand at Harry's wound, muttering, "Torpere!" Harry felt the hot, throbbing pain in his shoulder leave him, as his entire right arm became numb.

Commander Boot then began to feed him a disgusting liquid that he would only later learn was a Blood-Replenishing Potion from a small crystal flask that he kept on his belt. He then began to murmur a healing spell he had never heard of underneath his breath, over and over again, as though in prayer, "Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur!"

Harry could not see nor feel the effects of this spell, but the Commander seemed satisfied with its results, as he conjured bandages to wrap themselves tightly around his chest, shoulder and right arm. "Ferula!" he intoned, the white wrappings covering Harry's injured area. Harry whispered his thanks as he then moved to check on Michael and Eddie.

Harry's focus shifted as Dumbledore returned to the clearing with Slughorn and the two members of the Fallen Sun, also bound in lightning ropes, floating along silently and unconsciously behind him. Even in his concussed state, he could not help but be amused by the Headmaster's demeanour. He appeared as though he was simply in the middle of a pleasant walk on a Sunday afternoon, he was just that relaxed. The pursuers that had given Harry and the others so much trouble was less than an irritant to him, like mice attempting to flee from the paws of a playful cat.

"Is everyone alright?" Dumbledore asked, lightly. "Mr. Potter? Mr. Corner?" He turned to the youngest of them first, waiting for them to nod before checking with Eddie. "Mr. Carmichael? Can you move?" Eddie nodded, looked abashed, as though Dumbledore had screamed at him. The Headmaster didn't seem to notice as he turned to Eliza with a proud smile. "Good work, Miss Hawthorn."

As jealous as he was that she was the only one being praised, Harry could not deny that she had earned it. Not only had she saved his life twice tonight, she was also the only one of them to still be standing on her own two feet when reinforcements had arrived.

With their four captured attackers in tow, the remaining six made their way back to the castle in silence. Harry was more than a little bit embarrassed to be the only one who required a floating stretcher to get back to school, but he was so tired he didn't even complain about it.

Several times, he tried to catch Michael's eye, to try to get a feel for his mood, but the other First Year kept his eyes firmly ahead and the scowl that marred his face was not an unusual expression for him. Giving up for now, he turned his head to check on Eddie and Eliza. While the former was looking rightfully ashamed of himself, staring at the ground as he walked, Eliza looked happier than Harry had ever seen her; She was the only one among the six who was smiling.

As they entered the empty Hospital Wing, a harried looking Madam Pomfrey hurried out of her office, quickly assigning each student a bed, even though Harry was the only one who was injured. Thankfully, she did at least check in on him first before the others.

Once Commander Boot moved him steadily from the conjured stretcher and floated him gently onto the firm mattress, Pomfrey closed the curtains around the bed and vanished his torn sweatshirt without asking (It was his most comfortable piece of clothing!) and began to examine his half-healed wound.

After she had removed the Numbing Charm and treated his shoulder with a thick green sludge called Essence of Dittany, before replacing his bandages. "Commander Boot did a good job with you." She admitted grudgingly. "That should be enough dittany to prevent scarring, but we'll have to see how you respond to it before we look at alternatives." She then waved her wand, instantaneously replacing or transfiguring his remaining clothes into white hospital pyjamas. Before he could ask her if she just hated all of his garments, she opened the curtains and went to check on the others.

As each of the beds had curtains around them, Harry could not tell who was in which. In fact, now that Lord Dumbledore and Commander Boot had left, taking the soon to be prisoners with them, Harry felt uncomfortably alone. He had never been afraid of the dark before, but after tonight's misadventure, he wished the Hospital Wing were better lit at night, if only to spare him flinching at every tiny sound and movement that turned out to be something innocuous.

Finally, when all her patients were examined, Madam Pomfrey began to draw the curtains, but was stopped by the return of Dumbledore and the Commander. Despite the matron's protests, they proceeded to sequester themselves away behind the curtains in order to interview each student individually. Harry didn't have any time to process this, as he was the first one that they chose to question.

Once the curtains were shut firmly behind them, they began to ask their questions and Harry did his level best to answer honestly, without throwing the Marauders or Quirrell under the bus. "When Madam Pomfrey told me that Michael had been discharged, I thought he would have gone back to the common room, so I just headed to the Library tower instead."

"Alone?" Commander Boot sounded disbelieving, as he read the self-writing transcript. "In the middle of your holiday?"

Harry shrugged. "I can barely get my friends to revise when exams are around the corner. It's impossible to get them to study during the holiday, so I've been going on my own." This was not a lie, and they could check with Madam Pince to make sure. Harry hoped they did, as it would make the falsehood that he was about to tell them next sound believable. "I spotted Michael and Eddie on the grounds, headed to the forest from one of the windows." The Library tower faced east, where the forest was relative to the school.

It was Dumbledore's turn to sound doubtful. "You saw two students across the grounds at night? From a first-floor window?"

Harry nodded. "I'm a Seeker, and they're my teammates. I know what they look like from a distance." Harry hurried on before they could poke more holes in his story. "I bumped into Eliza Hawthorn as she was leaving the library and I asked for her help because she's a Sentinel." He then told the rest of the events as they happened, aside from a white lie about how he had first recognised Robert.

"I don't know many people with an Aspen wand, and like I said, I can spot my teammates from a distance." Harry said, trying to move along before they can question him again. "Michael unmasked him during our duel. That's when you arrived." He finished, relieved.

Lord Dumbledore and Commander Boot looked at each other before thanking him for his cooperation and moving on to question the others. Harry let out a long, slow breath when they left and reached for the jug of cool water Madam Pomfrey had left on his bedside table in order to quench his parched throat.

One by one, each of the students were questioned in private and their curtains were drawn back when they had finished giving their statements, before the two men continued on to the next. While Eddie was being questioned and Michael waited for his turn, Eliza turned to Harry from the bed beside his.

"Well tonight was fun." She said, grinning at him.

Harry gave her an incredulous look. "You and I must have different definitions of fun."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, come on. I saw you fighting Hillard back there. You were enjoying yourself too." She was keeping her voice low so a lingering Madam Pomfrey wouldn't hear.

"I wasn't having fun. I was too busy trying not to die."

"I didn't even know Hillard could fight like that." Eliza admitted. "I've always thought he was a bit of a wimp, always hiding behind Belby. But it just goes to show, you can never judge someone by the face they present to the world." Her voice, which had held its amusement at the beginning of her response, had grown dark by the last word.

Before he could ask her about it, Dumbledore and the Commander had finished questioning Michael and were about to make their leave when Harry called out. "Headmaster? May I speak with you?" Dumbledore paused momentarily by the doors, before making his way back to Harry.

When the curtains were closed once more, Harry began asking his own questions. "Professor, what will happen to Robert and Slughorn?" Dumbledore looked surprised by his first question, but only for a moment. He settled himself down on the end of Harry's bed and began to answer his question.

"Horace Slughorn will be held and interrogated by the London Citadel, under the purview Of Commander Boot. When he is charged, he will be put on trial." Dumbledore explained as he helped himself to a glass of water. "Depending on the severity of his crimes, he may be judged by the High Court of the Coalition rather than our own Wizengamont."

"As for Mr. Hillard," Dumbledore continued, "things are far less severe." At Harry immediate scepticism, Dumbledore chuckled. "It is true. As a seventeen-year-old, Mr. Hillard is still a minor and as such his name and face will be kept from the media and Slughorn's influence over him will be considered."

Harry nodded, remembering Anthony had said something similar to him once, that the school was partly responsible for any wrongdoing students may do with the magic they had been taught there. Harry now chose to ask the previously expected question. "How did you find us tonight?"

"Our mutual acquaintance warned me that an illicit exchange would be taking place in my school tonight." Dumbledore smiled at Harry's obvious shock. While he had known that Mundungus was supposed to tell Dumbledore, he hadn't known that included his knowledge of the Marauders.

The Headmaster continued, as though he hadn't exposed his knowledge of a secret society of troublemakers in his school. "I must say, tonight was good work on your part Harry. Had you not taken matters into your own hands I am afraid that Commander Boot and I would have arrived much too late."

Harry nodded slowly. "I was wondering about that. Did Mundungus give you the wrong location?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I am afraid he gave us the wrong time. After a good night's rest, I will pay him a visit to ensure that this was merely a mistake on his part and not a deliberate misdirection." His voice was calm, but there was a definite edge to it. Harry almost pitied Mundungus Fletcher. Almost.

"Is that all?" Dumbledore asked in a way that made Harry feel bad for wasting his time. Still, there was one more thing he had to know.

"One more question. Hagrid told me you extended the protection that my parents had placed on me so that I couldn't be hurt while in Little Whinging." He waited for the Headmaster's nod of confirmation before continuing. "I've been meaning to ask; does it extend further? I know when spells are stretched beyond their limits they can act erratically, but-" He cut himself off as Dumbledore was already shaking his head.

"The barriers I placed around your home and Little Whinging as a whole were geographical in their design. It only worked because it is your permanent residence." Dumbledore explained. "Why do you ask?"

Harry was frowning. "I've sometimes noticed that people feel a little…" he struggled to find the right word, "kickback when the try to Hex me." He shrugged it off. "It was probably just accidental magic or something."

Dumbledore looked intrigued. "Do people try to Hex you often?"

Harry grinned. "It's the price I have to pay for having a personality as wonderful as my own. They're just jealous." Dumbledore chuckled.

When the Headmaster took his leave, Harry allowed his grin to fall. Not everyone experienced a kickback when the hurt him. In fact, it was really only one person.

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

The dark-haired boy was sleeping soundly in his bed, exhausted after a long stressful day of revision and practice. His room was a mess of books, parchment and study notes, all of which was thrown haphazardly in every corner, illuminated by the pale light of the moon through the open window.

The door to his dormitory slow creaked open and two dark figures crept their way inside, dressed in long black robes with the hoods pulled up in order to hide their grotesque features. As they neared the bed, they drew long rusted blades from their wide sleeves, each coming to a stop on either side of the bed next to the boy's face.

Perhaps it was a long-buried survival instinct, or maybe it was the minute sound of the two intruders signalling each other, but the boy shifted and awoke from his sleep slowly, his dark eyes blinked open, and then blinking again as he could not understand what he was seeing. When he finally comprehended the fact that he was not alone anymore, Terry sat up in his bed and began screaming.

"Scream all you want, Boot, but tonight you breathe your last." The figure on the right cackled. His saggy grey skin and long pointed nose would be enough to terrify Terry, but his large bug eyes scared him even more as they were facing different directions and spinning wildly as they followed his movements.

The intruder to his right blocked his escape, swopping its head low so that its hood fell back revealing its green reptilian skin and sharp toothed smile. "Run boy!" It roared, taking a swipe at him with its knife and catching a bit of his pyjamas tearing the material. "I enjoy the hunt!"

Still screaming, Terry scrambled for the end of the bed, falling off the end before half-crawling half-running for the exit. In a moment, he had opened the door and ran out of sight. The two intruders turned towards each other.

"Do you think we took things too far?" Anthony asked through his rows of sharp teeth.

Harry nodded his head absently, unable to stop himself from playing with his now loose grey skin. Tonks had been confused when they asked for her help but had come aboard when she heard it was for Terry. He had a special knack for getting under people's skin. "Probably. I mean, he even left his wand behind."

They both froze when they heard Terry's screams cut themselves off before both hurrying downstairs to see what had happened to him. Harry and Anthony made their way down to the Fifth Years floor and burst out laughing when they saw Christopher lying on the floor with a still shaking Terry clinging on to him desperately.

Christopher was in the midst of shouting at him, and the other Fifth Year boys were stepping out of their own dorms to see what the commotion was about, but they all began screaming and retreating when they saw Harry and Anthony descend from the stairs, laughing manically. The Fifth Years all ran back into their dorms, slamming the doors closed behind them. Christopher even threw Terry off of him and shut the door loudly in his face, leaving the shaking boy to his doom.

Terry tripped over his own feet as Harry and Anthony approached, landing on his backside, skittering backwards as they extended their hands out to him ominously. When his back hit the wall, they started cackling again, Terry screamed once more.

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

"I'm surprised you didn't wet yourself." Anthony snickered, hours later at breakfast. Padma, who was tucking into her porridge right next to him, shot him a filthy look, but he just ignored her.

"It wasn't funny!" Terry hissed for the fifth time that day. He was still upset with them and had sleeping bags under his eyes from where he had refused to go back to sleep.

"It was a little funny." Harry smirked. Terry glared at him, and Harry finally began to feel bad. "Besides that's not all we have planned for your big day, you know." Terry perked up, interested, but before he could ask, Dumbledore rose from his place at the staff table and stood at the podium in order to address the school.

"As many of you would have heard by now, we are in need of a brand-new Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House." Dumbledore said this simply, as though Slughorn's crimes hadn't been on the front cover of every magical newspaper for the last three days. "As such I would like you all to congratulate Professor Vector on her new position as the Head of Slytherin and to welcome Professor Severus Snape to our school." He gestured back towards the staff table and Harry recognised the newcomer; It was the same man Quirrell had spoken to so intensely at Slughorn's Christmas party.

While the student body gave an awkward round of applause, Harry turned to face Michael. Ever since that night in the forest he had refused to speak one word to Harry, Anthony or Terry. It hadn't been all that hard for the inhabitants of Hogwarts to connect the missing Robert with the unnamed student that had been mentioned by the Daily Prophet.

While the entire school whispered and pointed wherever he went, Michael had ignored them all as though they didn't even exist. Normally, Harry would approve of this newfound maturity from his friend, but Michael had decided on ignoring them too, as though he didn't want anything to do with him.

"So?" Terry asked, his mind still on his birthday celebration. "What are we doing today?"

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

The salty sea spray stung Harry's eyes as he staggered across the sloping deck. The high, grey waves rose almost as high as the ship and if he had been able to focus on it, he might have been afraid that the entire ship would capsize. However, he couldn't focus on that because his whole attention was fixed on his opponent.

The man was tall and dressed in an eighteenth-century British Navy Officer's uniform, and as he swung his blade, Harry could only just deflect the blow with his own cutlass, swinging wildly in retaliation.

His blow missed when Captain Terry began shouting by the wheel. "All men to starboard!" He bellowed. Harry had no idea what that meant, and he had a feeling Terry didn't either. He lost his balance as Terry spun the wheel rapidly to left and Anthony screamed as he was thrown from the crow's nest into the ocean.

Maybe showing him what the Room of Requirement was capable of was a bad idea, Harry thought as he too fell overboard.

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

Quidditch practice had become rather uncomfortable since the Forbidden Forest incident.

Now that their captain had been imprisoned and awaiting trial, the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had been thrown into turmoil. Eddie was out for the rest of the year for a suspension, Michael wasn't speaking to anyone even at practice and Marcus was snapping at anyone who even looked at him wrong. With the Quidditch finals only weeks away, thigs were looking dire.

More than once, Harry had considered speaking to Marcus, as he was the only one on the team to know the truth about the relationship he had with Robert, but honestly, he was too intimidated to do so. Mostly because Marcus was a bit of a grump at the best of times, but partly because he wasn't even sure if he could be trusted.

Ever since Robert had taken a chunk out of his shoulder (the first time) Harry had avoided them both. If Marcus was on the same side as his boyfriend, then Harry would just end up in the Hospital Wing for a third time this year.

Mercifully, Fiona had taken control of the team. Her desire for victory had overcome her need to go unnoticed. With Maria as her Number Two, she organised an emergency try-out for a new Chaser and a new Beater, and Ravenclaw House answered the call magnificently. It seemed as though half the house had turned out to either try-out or show their support on the last Saturday of the holidays and after a gruelling afternoon they had settled on their new teammates: Roger Davies as Chaser and Andre Egwu as Beater.

Roger was a Third Year with carefully styled brown hair and big doe eyes. Terry had quietly mocked him behind his back several times throughout the school year when they caught the older boy checking his appearance with the small mirror that he seemed to keep on his person at all times. Harry had only joined in when he walked in on him checking himself out in the boy's lavatory, flexing his non-existent muscles for his own viewing pleasure. He didn't like the idea of this ridiculous boy joining the team, but it was better than having an up-and-coming Dark Wizard like Robert, so Harry kept his mouth shut.

In contrast, Harry was more than happy to have Andre on the team. When he quietly spoke with Fiona and explained that he would have to schedule practice around his N.E.W.T revision, he had to bend down significantly to reach her ear. Andre was the largest boy in school, dwarfing even Richard, and Harry was as shocked as everyone else was when Eddie's Nimbus 2000 was even able to lift him in the air. He flew with reasonable speed, had good aim, but Fiona was clearly interested in what his beefy form could offer the team in defence against the most aggressive team in the school. When he was told that he had made the cut, the serious boy smiled for the first time, his gleaming grin contrasting heavily against his dark skin.

While Harry was just as relieved as the rest of his house to have a full team before the Final, he knew it wasn't going to matter. With only three weeks until the last match and neither Marcus nor Michael playing at their best, their victory was going to hinge on whether or not he could capture the Snitch within the time limit.

Fiona agreed with him.

"Listen, none of this going to matter if you don't catch that Snitch before we're fifty points behind." She informed him as the two walked back to the common room after their most recent practice. "Gathering our new team together isn't an effort in trying to score more goals then Slytherin, it's about outlasting them. We'll buy you as much time as possible to catch that Snitch, so I don't want you to focus on the Quaffle play at all this time around. All right?"

Harry nodded. "No arguments from me." He was being honest. While Fred and George were a fearsome Beater duo, they were still only two players. What made Slytherin so different from the other teams was their single-minded focus on offence. Rather than leave it to their Beaters, the Chasers and Seeker got involved too. They even managed to incorporate the Keeper into a few of their plays. Some might wonder why the only undefeated team this season was even worrying about the only team who hadn't managed to win a single match, but that was before you considered their styles. While Slytherin was the strongest offensively, Ravenclaw was the weakest defensively. It was not a good match up.

Harry had resolved himself to catching the Snitch as fast as possible, whether it was to win the match or simply put whatever Slytherin had left of his team out their collective misery.

Quidditch practice wasn't even the only uncomfortable meeting he had to sit through. Visiting Hagrid had become an exercise in guilt.

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

When the new term began, all the teachers seemed to realise that final exams were only weeks away and begun to pile on readings and homework onto their students. The Ravenclaw common room had become an unpleasant area as the study area had grown overcrowded and students cramming for exams had spilled over to the sitting area. This meant that squabbles between irritable students were common, often about the Odeon playing too loud or even playing at all, and these fights were most often caused by Second, Fifth and Seventh Years as they were the ones who were taking their important qualifications.

The Library Tower was somehow even worse. Despite Madam Pomfrey's best efforts, it was loud and overcrowded with stressed out students fighting over the last copies of texts that they needed. Even though Pince had recruited the Prefects for help, it only made things worse, as they were often the ones who were most anxious about their grades.

Harry and his friends had managed to sequester themselves away from all of this by simply studying in their dormitories, or when that felt too stuffy in the May heatwave, the Room of Requirement made for an even better substitute. Studying on a sunny beach definitely beat out the common room even without the school's most recent change in atmosphere.

The only thing that would have made it even better was Michael joining them, but even though the Forbidden forest incident had occurred weeks ago now, he was still not speaking to them. Harry had tried cornering him to speak but he always remained stubbornly silent.

Anthony had advised that he and Terry should leave Michael be for now, as he was sure that he would come to them in his own time. Apparently chasing someone down and demanding they speak with you wasn't a good way to go about things. Still, Harry could not help but feel like they had slipped back into the same dynamic they'd had in September as he sometimes caught Michael glaring at him when he thought he wasn't paying attention.

He was doing so right now in fact, sitting in Defence Against the Dark Arts, ignoring Susan Bones' taunting of Robert's looming imprisonment ("It's just bad blood, Corner. I don't know why they haven't locked you up too. It's only a matter of time before you show your true colours." Harry could hear her hiss at him when she thought no one else was listening.) and glaring at Harry as though he was somehow the root cause. Perhaps he was, but Michael didn't know anything about the Silver Spears so it seemed really unfair that he would blame Harry for any of it.

Professor Quirrell dismissed the class when the bell rang and Harry climbed to his feet, smiling at his friends. "Aren't you glad I made you revise over the holiday? Everyone else has homework this weekend but we don't." Anthony said nothing, but Terry grumbled predictably.

"Time I'm never gonna get back." He said under his breath. Harry was about to ask what he would have done with all that precious time when Quirrell called his name.

"Mr. Potter? A word if you don't mind."

Susan smirked at him as she led her crowd of followers out of the room. "Uh oh. Looks like someone is in trouble." Harry ignored her as he made his way to the front desk after telling his friends not to wait for him.

Harry watched Quirrell unhappily as he waited for the last straggler to leave the room before shutting the door with his wand. This was the first time they had been alone in over a month as Quirrell had been too busy for their private lessons. Harry had felt rather abandoned, especially after his brutal last meeting with the Silver Spears. Still, the first words from Quirrell's mouth still knocked him for a loop.

"Well done, Harry." Quirrell said, his smile wide. "I am so proud of you."

Harry was caught off guard. He wasn't expecting to hear that today. In fact, he was never expecting to hear those words. No one had ever said they were proud of him before, not even Lupin. Harry felt something in his throat and found it difficult to look up at Quirrell, keeping his head faced towards the teacher's desk he stood in front of. Mercifully, Quirrell continued speaking, politely pretending he wasn't aware of how off his kilter Harry was in that moment.

"While I was away from school, I wasn't expecting you and Miss Hawthorn to complete the mission without my guidance, but you did." Quirrell shook his head, smile still stretched across his face. "All those students who would have been influenced by Slughorn, both present and future, are now free thanks to you. Be proud of yourself, Harry."

Now under control, Harry looked up, easy smile fixed on his face. "Don't you know me at all? I'm always proud of myself."

Rolling his eyes, Quirrell continued. "Well, considering you have such a high opinion of yourself, I suppose you won't be surprised to hear that I've chosen you as the W.O.M.B.A.T representative for a very special exam."

Harry leaned forward, intrigued. "What are you talking about?"

"I was planning on choosing a Second, Fifth and Seventh Year to complete a very special extra credit practical exam." Quirrell explained. "You know, something to impress future employers, or in the Second Year's case, Auror Squad Captains." He nodded now that Harry seemed to understand. "Yes, it will be of use to you when you apply to join the London Citadel's Initiate Program. Are you interested?"

"Yes!" Harry could not pretend for even a second that he wasn't. A chance to take a W.O.M.B.A.T Practical Exam a year early? How could he skip such an opportunity?

Quirrell chuckled at his eagerness. "All right then. Focus on your end-of-year exams for now and I'll let you know when I'll test you."

Harry left the room feeling better than he'd had since before Robert had scooped out half of his arm. Not even the most recent inclusion to the Hogwarts staff could impact his mood, although he seemed to give it his best try.

When the First Year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs entered the Potions classroom for their first lesson of the new term, they all attempted to change their assigned seating without a word. However, as Harry was just getting settled on the available seat beside Isobel, Snape made his displeasure immediately known.

"Do not attempt to fool me," he said coldly, as he swept dramatically into the room. His long black robes were streaming after him, like the wings of a bat. "I am aware of where you were all seated as Slughorn happened to have a seating chart written down in his office. Move back, now."

There was much grumbling as they all returned to their original tables. Harry avoided Susan's eye as Hannah Abbott got up from his seat in order to return to her own. When everyone was settled, Snape continued to berate them. "That will be five points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for each student who attempted to fool me. Be grateful that you can follow simple instructions, otherwise it would have been ten points each."

Harry had plenty of substitute teachers during his years at St. Greggs, as such he was able to suss out which teachers were nice, which were strict, and which would make their time in the classroom as unpleasant as possible. Harry was still deciding if Snape was the second or the third when he began speaking again.

"I've had the displeasure of reading thorough Slughorn's lessons plans." His voice was so soft that even Harry, seated at the front row, had to lean forward to hear. "He was a soft teacher. He coddled you. Do not expect the same from me. You will read ahead before every class. You will do prep before every class. Anyone with missing equipment, late homework or unprepared ingredients will be given an immediate detention." He eyes swept the room slowly, staring at them all to let them know he was completely serious.

"Those who have given in their homework and succeeded in the practical work will be permitted to leave early. Those who are incapable of meeting these low standards will be forced to attend the remedial Potion classes I will be starting on Sundays." He pointed his wand at the board and the recipe for the Sleeping Draught appeared. "Well? What are you all waiting for?"

Harry grimaced. It was clear that Snape was the fourth kind of substitute teacher. The type that didn't even like to teach.

Toward the end of the lesson Snape left his desk to peruse the student's cauldrons and, unfortunately, Harry and Susan were first. Snape swooped in on Harry's cauldron as though he expected to find something to criticise, but he straightened up, disappointed, saying nothing. Harry withheld a relived smile. While Potions wasn't his best subject, a year of hanging around Terry, Potion's club and hard, repeated practice in his own dorm was enough to counteract his own lack of natural skill in the field.

Harry glanced up, still struggling to hold back his grin at the new Potion Master's tangible disappointment, but his desire to smile died when they made eye contact. Almost immediately, Harry felt the familiar touch of a Legilimency probe brushing against his thoughts. He instantly averted his eyes back to his cauldron, trying not to let his sudden caginess show.

After Snape had examined Susan's cauldron, also finding nothing to criticise, Harry finally looked up from his Sleeping Draught. He turned to look at Snape, but he wasn't the only one, as the Potions Master was loudly berating Poppy Caxton at the next table for failing to prepare the Flobberworm mucus correctly. That wasn't a surprise as Poppy was rather terrible at Potions, but what was a surprise was how Susan reacted to this.

She was glaring at Snape with the kind of hatred she only seemed to direct at Michael and Harry. He doubted it was because of how he was treating Poppy, as Harry had seen her treat her friends far worse than Snape was currently doing, and he had never seen her act like anything but a teacher's pet to the staff, so what was her problem with him?

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For the remainder of April, Harry, Anthony and Terry made sure to visit Hagrid several times a week as he had slipped into a dark mood ever since Norbert "flew away". Feeling responsible for this, they tried to take care of him when he drank too much and stopped coming to meals. It was only his love of the other animals in his care, as well as the joy he took in sharing his appreciation for creatures of all shapes and sizes with students, that kept him waking up every morning.

Anthony was surprisingly unsympathetic to his plight. "I don't get it," he grumbled as they returned from Hagrid's house one evening before curfew came into effect. "I understand that he would miss it, but it's still just a Beast."

As Terry began to scold his brother in a strange reversal of their typical dynamic, Harry couldn't help but feel even more guilty. While the others may not know of Hagrid's lifelong desire to rear his own Dragon, Harry certainly did. In fact, it was one of the first things Hagrid had told him about himself.

However, during their next visit on a sunny Saturday in early May, they found a surprise waiting for them when Hagrid opened his door. Instead of appearing like he had been forcefully dragged out of bed, as he had for the last couple of weeks, Hagrid looked back to his usual self, clean and dressed for the day. "Good morning, lads. Breakfast?" He asked, cheerful.

Harry was still reeling from what he was seeing as he answered. "Err…no thanks. We just had lunch."

Hagrid chuckled. "Is it that late already? Ah, I suppose that's what I get for staying up all night."

"What happened last night?" Terry asked, as they were led to the sitting room.

"We found Norbert!" Hagrid cheered, crashing down onto his seat in front of the coffee table. There were bits of wood chips, a large knife and what looked like a flute scattered across its surface.

"Oh? Really?" Anthony did his best to look surprised, but Harry just thought it was a good thing that Hagrid had returned his focus to his whittling, otherwise he would have given the game away. "How? Where?" Even Terry looked embarrassed by his acting.

"I bumped into an old student of mine down at the Hog's Head. You might know him, Terry. Hector? He was mates with Callum back at school." Hagrid paused. "In fact, I think there both studying at the Magisterium together." He shook his head and continued. "He was visiting his girlfriend in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago, and they came across a baby Norwegian Ridgeback when they went for a hike up the mountains."

Terry gasped. "Really? Where's Norbert now then?"

"Hector called up Callum and they had Norbert transferred to the Magisterium." Hagrid beamed at them. "I've already been in touch with the Beast Guild, and they said I just need to sign up some documents before I can adopt him."

"That's really lucky Hagrid. I'm glad it all worked out." Harry smiled with all too real relief. He had been afraid that even Norbert's return wouldn't be enough to shake him out of his mood.

Hagrid chuckled again. "I just don't believe it. I was planning on doing all this myself, but Norbert goes and pulls it off all by himself!"

Harry froze. "What? Do what yourself?"

"You didn't think I was going to keep a Dragon in my house without letting the Guild know, did you?" Hagrid shook his head. "No, I was gonna ask a favour from a few old students of mine to get it done properly, documents signed and everything. We were gonna pretend I never saw Norbert before adopting him, but it works out even better this way!"

Not long after, when Hagrid went to the kitchen to go get them some celebratory drinks, Anthony and Terry both turned to Harry. "I know! I know!" He could feel his face burning, as it had when they had both been trying to catch his eye while Hagrid had still been in the room. "There was never any point in us getting involved."

"I feel like such an idiot." Anthony groaned, tipping his head back against the chair's headrest to stare at the ceiling. "What a waste of time."

"I don't know about that." Terry shrugged. "How many kids get to call themselves Dragon smugglers? I thought it was quite fun." Before either of the other two could respond to that, Hagrid returned with their drinks. They had all come to a silent agreement to take this secret to their graves. No one wanted to make Hagrid angry, because aside from the fact that he was still their Professor, he was also eight feet tall and could crush them like bugs.

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

On the second Saturday of May, the Hogwarts' Quidditch Final took place. The day was clear and sunny, with a pleasant breeze flowing through the stadium. It wouldn't be like the other matches Harry had played in. Those had taken place in winter, and it had taken a while for his body to warm up against the chilly wind. Today, under the bright sun and the cool warm air, Harry was confident that he was going to perform at his best today. Or at least he would have been if it weren't for the size of the crowd.

As the Ravenclaw Quidditch team stepped onto the pitch to meet their Slytherin counterparts in the middle of the stadium, Harry was disturbed to see the size of the crowd that had come out to watch the last game of the season. Every inch of the stands was packed with witches and wizards who all wanted to see the last Hogwarts match for five months, and they were already cheering and jeering as though the match was already in full swing.

Harry tried not to let his nerves get to him as he stopped at the centre line with the rest of the players. When the Captains were made to shake hands, the burly Seventh Year, Flint attempted to crush Fiona's hand, but aside from her grip on her broom tightening, Harry didn't see her react in the slightest.

It was this that helped him find his focus by the time Professor Hooch asked them to mount their brooms and hover, twenty feet above the ground. His hands were sweaty within his gloves, but he remained impassive as the giant Slytherin players all glared menacingly at him.

When Hooch gave the signal to begin, Harry took off like a bat out of hell. As previously agreed, Maria and Andre covered his escape, not with Bludgers, by flying in front of the Slytherin players who made to slam into Harry the second the game started. Even the Keeper came after him instead of defending the hoops, which in turn gave Fiona, Roger and Michael an easy first goal.

While the Slytherin Keeper finally flew towards the Slytherin goal line to take his place in front of the hoops, the Chasers and Beaters all returned to the centre line as Hooch returned the Quaffle into play, and Harry began his search for the Snitch being followed closely by his opposing Seeker, Fifth Year Terrance Higgs.

Higgs was unusually lean compared to his teammates, but he was in the same year as Myrose and Fredricks, so Harry knew he was just as dangerous as the rest of his teammates. He proved this by how aggressive his style of play was.

While Harry was far faster than his opponent, Higgs was relentless in his pursuit of Harry. Instead of taking even a second to try and find the Snitch for himself, he devoted himself entirely to the effort of knocking Harry off his broomstick. This meant that Harry hardly had a few seconds every minute or so in which to search for the Snitch. He unknowingly fell into the pattern that the Slytherin team had designed for him.

While Harry was struggling with his search for the Snitch, he kept one ear on the commentary, wanting to remain aware of his team's standing an whether or not he should catch the Snitch (If he ever caught sight of the damn thing!). Lee's voice was coming through nicely, strong through the clear, open day, but his words were dire.

"After an explosive start for the Ravenclaw team, the Slytherin's have made their comeback, and they've done it quickly! Flint's aggressive tactics seem to be paying off for him for once this year as they newly appointed Fiona Wood just can't seem to pull her team together. Now that Corner is out of the running, how long can Ravenclaw last?"

Harry was horrified at the sound of this, and on his next turn through the pitch, he saw the score clearly in front of Lee's podium. 40-20 Slytherin, and from the sound of it, the score wasn't going to get any better. But what had happened to Michael? Even though it went against everything Fiona had warned him against, Harry knew he had to do something.

Signalling Maria as he flew past, Harry did another lap of the pitch, giving her time to prepare. When he came back around, slowing down enough to keep Higgs on his tail, Harry did his best to keep Maria hidden from Higgs perspective as she prepared to hit an incoming Bludger right at the Slytherin Seeker. Unfortunately, this was a trick that the Slytherin team was more than aware of, as they had done something similar to the far more inexperienced Gryffindor Seeker.

Harry dived the exact moment Maria hit the Bludger at Higgs, but his opponent had already dropped ten feet, avoiding the Bludger entirely. Worse, the Slytherins seemed to have prepared a counter for this exact ploy. Flint had his Beater's bat at the ready so that when Higgs dodged the Bludger he was in the perfect position to hit it right at Harry's back. Perhaps it was the crowd's gasp, or even the dull sound the heavy leather Bludger made against the Beater's bat, but Harry rolled out of the way without looking, missing the Bludger by inches. This would have been good news, if it hadn't clipped Maria right in the shoulder sending her into a spin.

Andre was busy defending the Chasers from Slytherin's other Beater, so Harry knew it was up to him to cover Maria's escape. Flying straight up, then upside down, and then back towards the grass, Harry completed a loop over Flint's head and as he turned to follow a presumed escaping Ravenclaw Seeker, he was surprised to find his prey flying right at him at top speed.

Harry had already been warned off trying to intimidate the Slytherin team, as they had the most aggressive style of play amongst all the school teams. Having a skinny little eleven-year-old flying past him would never make Flint flinch, but Harry didn't care about intimidating him. He had caught Maria's eye as he flew straight up a second ago, and he just knew they were on the same wavelength.

Steeling his nerve, Harry tensed as he deliberately collided with Flint's husky form at almost thirty miles an hour. Harry gritted his teeth as he felt a sharp pain all the way down his right side at the moment of impact.

However, while he knew that the rest of the game was going to be a painful experience, he thought it might just be worth it as he heard Flint's breath leave his body, and it was definitely worth it to see Maria send a Bludger at the back of his head at near point-blank range when it rebounded. Harry felt a moment of savage triumph as Flint slipped off his broom and fell to the grassy pitch almost fifty feet below.

"Oh! That looked like it hurt! Flint and Higgs seemed to have caught onto Potter and Acardi's usual strategy of attacking the Beater's first and planned accordingly, but they made it work for them anyway. Higgs seems as surprised as anyone else to see his Captain go down. Just goes to show that too much preparation can be its own weakness. With the game being 50-20 Slytherin, and both teams being down a man, can Ravenclaw managed to even the score?"

Harry was planning to and, from the looks of things, so was Maria.

Slytherin seemed to be in disarray without their Captain and main offensive force, and while Ravenclaw had only two Chasers, Fiona was flying better today than she ever had before. Her tackles and ability to steal the Quaffle had skyrocketed this game compared to others and she was a force to reckoned with.

For his part, Roger, perhaps eager to prove himself a valuable member of the team to their new Captain, was cooperating beautifully with Fiona. Every pass, every tackle and every attempt at the goals was all done working around her strengths and covering for her weaknesses. Harry suspected that he had been watching her carefully for a while now, either that or he was just an excellent adaptive player.

Harry had to take back all the uncharitable thoughts he had ever had about the Third Year. While he had never said them out loud, he now felt bad for writing him off as just a pretty boy who skated by on his looks and popularity. It was clear that he wanted a permanent position on the team and was not unwilling to get roughed up and even lose a little personal glory in catering to Fiona's more sharpened skill.

Maria and Andre were not idle either. While Maria was flying a little slower than she normally did due to her injured shoulder, Andre was playing aggressively enough to cover for her and keep the Slytherins at a distance. When he had first joined the team, Harry had asked him why he would even bother trying out at the end of his last year at school.

"I spent seven years with my nose in a book and I ended up missing out on all the things I wanted to try when I first learned about magic." Andre said, in that tone of voice everyone used when they were using their own experience to advise someone younger from making the same mistakes. "I planned on playing Quidditch when I got here, and I'll be damned if I don't beat Slytherin now that I have the chance."

Harry smiled as they left the changing room for the pitch. "Got a grudge against someone?"

Andre snorted as they mounted their brooms. "I've had to share classes with Flint for seven years. He thinks me beating him in exam results is pointless, but I wonder if he'll keep talking down to Muggle-borns if I beat him in his favourite sport?" The wind drowned out Harry's laughter as they kicked off.

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Andre force the remaining Slytherin Beater to flee from the Ravenclaw Chasers as he hit the Bludger right at his flank. Maria was hounding the three Slytherin Chasers in order to stop them from over whelming Fiona and Rodger in the struggle for the Quaffle. In just a matter of minutes, the score inched closer as it turned 50-40 in favour of Slytherin. But while the rest the Ravenclaw team seemed to be advancing forward, Harry was struggling.

Every time he paused or even slowed down enough to properly search for the Snitch, Higgs reminded him that he was on his tail. No matter what direction he flew in, no matter how long he took between pauses, Higgs was always there, relentlessly working to prevent Harry from looking for the Snitch.

Normally, Harry would fall back on his bag of practiced tricks, but Higgs had already proven that his awareness of the wider game was better than both Cedric's and Cormac's. Any trick he pulled was just as likely to blow up in his face as his first trick with Maria almost had. But while Harry was so focused on trying to come up with a trick that Higgs would fall for, he forgot what house he was dealing with. Slytherin's were even more underhanded and determined to win than he was on his worst day.

Harry hadn't realised that Higgs relentless chase was not just an attempt to stop him from capturing the Snitch, but it was a planned attack on the Slytherin's part, he just didn't realise it until it was too late. While his attention was divided between out flying Higgs and keeping his eyes peeled for the Snitch, Harry hadn't noticed Slytherin's remaining Beater leave the Quaffle play. In fact, not many people in the stadium did.

The Slytherin Chasers were playing rougher than ever, seemingly galvanised by the nearing half-time whistle, desperately trying to stop the Ravenclaw team from scoring and boosting their morale. Or at least that was what everyone thought. In actuality, they were just buying their remaining Beater enough time to get into position.

While Harry was taking another pause, hovering in sixty feet in the air and keeping his head on a swivel for anything gold, Higgs made another desperate approach, flying in from above and forcing Harry to dive towards the grass. Far too late, Harry spotted the missing Beater flying up towards him from the ground, shepherding a Bludger upwards to meet him.

Eyes widening, Harry attempted to roll to the side, but Higgs predicted that. He was fast enough to catch up to Harry now that he had slowed down enough to roll out of the way, and Higgs came at him from the side and barged him back into the Bludger's path.

Harry saw a striking white light behind his closed eyes at the moment of impact, feeling the breath leave his body as the Bludger caught him in his chest, lifting him off his already diving broom, keeping him frozen in mid-air thirty feet off the ground for the briefest moments before it zoomed off, leaving him to fall back down to earth.

As the pitch grew nearer and nearer, Harry wondered if he was high up enough to black out at the moment of impact. In retrospect, he wished that he were.

Some instinct told him that landing directly on his face would be a bad idea for some reason, so he tried to hit the ground in a roll to soften his impact. This might have actually helped if his momentum was going to either side instead of directly downwards. When he hit the grass, he did so shoulder first, and could not stop himself from crying out in pain as he felt several things break all at once.

Looking back, he wasn't quite sure what happened next, as one moment he was pressing his face against the soft grass, trying to distract himself with the pleasant sensation rather than focusing on the burning pain, and the next he was lying on a cot in the medical tent with Fiona sitting by his side.

The moment he comprehended what he was seeing, he sat up quickly, distantly noting the lack of pain his body should be in. "Please tell me we didn't lose!" He asked her, unable to keep the panic from his voice. The idea of his last game of the season ending with him being knocked out and outwitted by a couple of moronic Quidditch players made him want to die of shame.

Fiona looked nonplussed. "What? No. You were out of it for about five minutes." She told him in a soothing voice. "It's only half-time. Are you good to play?" Harry rolled out of the cot, snatched up his broom and thanked Madam Pomfrey before heading for the exit. He ignored the school matron's dark mutters about children being both stupid and reckless as he turned his back to Fiona.

"You coming?" Shaking her head, but unable to hide her smile, Fiona hurried after him as they headed back to the Ravenclaw changing room.

"How was Michael knocked out the game?" Harry asked as they walked underneath the stands.

Fiona sighed. "He tried to take two of the Chasers on at the same time. We did get a goal out of it," she reasoned, "but I don't think it was worth losing one of our Chasers for almost an entire half." Harry caught her eye, but they both said nothing, even though they were alone. The entire team was treating Michael delicately after what had happened with Robert, but Harry suspected that sympathy would end if his newly returned bad attitude cost them the Final.

After a brief break in the changing rooms, where Harry made sure to hydrate and stretch his newly healed but still tired body, his newfound good mood died as he caught a glimpse of the score as they headed for the centre line. 90-40 Slytherin. Harry gaped at the scoreboard for a moment before he turned to Marcus.

"What happened? I was only out for five minutes!"

Marcus glowered down at him. "I'm doing my best!" Harry flinched backwards and Marcus seemed to remember himself. "Sorry." He muttered.

Harry awkwardly turned to face the incoming Slytherin team, pretending that he hadn't nearly jumped out of his skin when Marcus snapped at him. Harry was still a little afraid that Marcus was as secretly evil as his boyfriend and had been avoiding him as a result. Marcus' deteriorating behaviour had done nothing to help his wariness, and even though they might not know that they had been in a relationship, everyone on the team knew that Robert and Marcus had been especially close, so they had been treating him just as delicately as Michael. Harry wondered, as he looked again at the scoreboard, if the Fiona and Maria regretted keeping them both on the team despite their poor performances. Harry certainly did.

When Hooch gave the signal for the second half to begin, Harry took off as fast as the Nimbus 2000 would allow. He didn't have the patience for anymore tricks or clever team strategies. Not now at the last half of the season. They had done their level best to paper over the cracks in their new team's cooperation, and while it worked for a time, it wouldn't last. In fact, it had already blown up in Harry's face as he was taken out of the game for the first time all year. Slytherin were just too well-practiced at working together. They hadn't even replaced a single player from last year. What chance did the new, four-week-old Ravenclaw team have against their team's experience? It was like putting a baby eagle in a viper's nest; It was just going to get eaten.

All of this meant that Harry had to ignore the rest of the game, ignore the score, even ignore his own teammates and catch the Snitch as quickly as possible. As such, Harry had to stop playing Higgs game and use his speed to his own advantage. Harry pushed the broomstick to move at an intense speed, not his top speed, but just enough to keep Higgs at a distance as he kept his head on a swivel, flying through the pitch at varying heights, trying to catch even a glimpse of gold glinting off the sun.

Perhaps she knew what Harry had planned, or perhaps she was even more eager to win than he was, but Fiona had changed tact as she stopped taking the lead and instead did her best to support Michael in his offensive tackles and barges against the far larger Slytherin Chasers. She was either determined to keep the score from getting worse, or she just didn't want Michael to waste another half in the medic tent. Whichever it was, she was playing rougher than she had all year and the crowd seemed to notice as the Ravenclaw section cheered her on.

As for the two new players, they seemed to come into their own in the second half as they grew used to the rhythm of the game. Andre in particular, as he played a daring game of one-upmanship against Flint. The two seemed to be ignoring the game around them entirely as they traded a single Bludger back and forth, each trying to knock the other out of the sky. While Flint was both more practiced and skilled, Andre had both strength and determination on his side, as he returned each Bludger with enough force to make Flint falter. It was clear to those watching closely that there was bad blood between the two, as Flint seemed to visibly be consider re-joining the wider match, but his desire to knock Andre off his broom won out.

Maria had her hands full, as the remaining Slytherin Beater seemed torn between helping his Captain so that they could both return to the game and push back the Ravenclaw Chasers and stopping said Chasers from reaching the goal when they grabbed the Quaffle. Maria was flying back and forth after him, leaving the Chasers to their own devices so that see could press her opponent and keep him out of the Chaser play.

Rodger seemed to have not just been watching Fiona's moves, but practicing them for himself. More than once he took possession of the Quaffle that Michael and Fiona had won for him and flew them as quickly as he could to the Slytherin goals. However, he seemed to have watched her a little too closely, as he mimicked her feints twice in a row. While the first one nearly went in, just rebounding off the edge of the hoop, the second was easily caught by the Slytherin Keeper and quickly passed to his Chasers which Fiona and Michael had to chase down.

All of this meant that the score remained stubbornly at 90-40 Slytherin when Harry spotted the Snitch ten minutes into the second half.

The entire crowd seemed to hold its collective breath as Harry soared upwards, after the Snitch that had flickered across his view of the sun for the briefest of moments. He flew upside down in three successive loop-de-loops as he followed his prey's path, eyes unmoving from its golden shell and fluttering wings as he focused on it with a single-minded determination. Somewhere in the distance, Higgs bellowed something, but Harry paid it no mind.

For Andre, Higgs' bellow couldn't have come at a better time. He was still unpractised when it came to repeatedly swinging a Beater's bat and his aim was suffering for it. He could see Flint's knowing smirk as his hits went wider and wider as Flint's remained steady. They both new it was only a matter of time until Andre was forced to make a rough landing on the ground. Flint grew closer and closer, wanting to save his own strength as he wore Andre down, but that was his folly.

When Higgs' bellowed, calling for help from his teammates, Flint, the good Captain that he was, looked almost instinctively in his direction. Something jumped in Andre's chest, as he knew such a perfect opportunity would not present itself again. When Flint seemed to realise his mistake, he tried to evade, but it was already too late. With a great grunt, Andre whacked the Bludger right into Flint's nose, just as he had imagined doing for seven years. There was nothing more satisfying as hearing the crunch of his nose breaking and the sight of his foe falling to the ground.

Taking a short moment just to enjoy the sight of his hated bully hit the ground with a painful thud, Andre quickly flew to join his fellow Beater in her defence of their team.

Maria spotted her opposing Beater fly to answer Higgs' desperate call but made no move to follow. Harry was more than capable of taking care of himself, or at least, he would have to be. If Ravenclaw didn't score right now, then they were in danger of a rematch against Hufflepuff for the Quidditch Cup. Playing against the best team in the whole school while their team was still such a hodgepodge was not a good idea for them. They needed to win all three matches this year to beat Hufflepuff's overall score.

Which meant scoring a goal before Harry could catch that damn Snitch.

As Maria flew towards them, Fiona knew that it was now or never. With both Beaters ganging up on their Slytherin Chasers and the remaining threats chasing her Seeker, they would never have a more golden opportunity than this moment right now. Michael led the charge against the Slytherins as he had all half, which had been good then, but now that they had their Beaters back, he was only getting in the way. This reaffirmed her decision to make the final run with Rodger instead. He didn't have Michael's natural talent for the game, or even the refined skill every Chaser should have, but he had shown he could work well with her and, more importantly, he could follow orders.

Giving Rodger the signal, Fiona snatched the Quaffle from the Chaser that was so distracted from a rampaging Michael and made her approach to the Slytherin goals at top speed, with Rodger following in her wake. The two Chasers that weren't occupied with Michael were being forcibly held back by Andre and Maria, neither of them wanting to leave the tiny advantage that they had found themselves with.

Fiona neared the hoops in an instant and she could see that the Slytherin Keeper had his eye on the Quaffle instead of her throwing form. Her reputation for favouring feints was preceding her and for once she was glad. When she had first noticed Michael's change in behaviour, she had told Rodger what to expect during practice and reiterated it during half-time. She approached the hoops from a slightly greater hight than she normally did and got closer than she should.

Fiona was close enough to see the disbelieving smile grow on the Slytherin Keeper's face as she flew within arm's reach. He could, quite easily, take the Quaffle from her due to their difference in size, but she was more than aware of that. When he flew up to meet her, she dropped the Quaffle without even looking. From the look on the Keeper's face, he had thought that she had fumbled at the last hurdle, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Rodger had flown down when she had given him the signal, flying close to the grass, and flying upwards when he neared the hoops. All this took trust that they hadn't had time to build between each other, but they didn't have any other choice. Still, whether it was luck, or simply good teamwork, Rodger had gotten into the right position to not only catch the Quaffle that she had purposely dropped but was far enough away from the Keeper to throw it right into the furthest hoop before he could even realise what had happened.

The score was 90-50 Slytherin, which was good, as Harry was nearing the Snitch.

For someone with a desperate Seeker and burly Beater on his tail, Harry was surprisingly calm. Neither one of them wer fast enough to catch up to him and the Snitch had actually been withing Harry's reach twice during the chase. Each time, however, he had hesitated as he didn't want to be the reason Ravenclaw lost their best chance at the Quidditch Cup in years. So, it was something of a blessing when he heard Lee announce the new score.

90-50? Harry thought amazed, as he picked up his speed, now desperately trying to reach the Snitch. How'd they pull that off? Unknowingly, Harry's lack of teamwork in his final hunt for the Snitch led to a chain of events that was the best teamwork the Ravenclaw team had done all year.

Harry didn't think about that now though, as he rapidly turned his broom in a one-eighty, trying to maintain as much speed as he could while he closed the gap between himself and the Snitch. Unfortunately, this put him in the path of both Higgs' and the remaining Beater.

Ducking under Higgs' attempt at a clothesline, Harry was temporarily blinded to the Bludger that had been sent his way. There was no time to dodge, only to grip his broom tighter than he ever had before and to fold himself against it as closely as he could.

The Bludger scrapped against his back as he passed, leaving him with a surprisingly sharp pain, as though he had just been burned by the passing leather, but he remained steady on his broom. Which was fortunate, as the same moment he looked up was the same moment the Snitch ducked out of sight.

Glancing down, Harry saw it head straight towards the grass and he followed it, eager to finish this. No matter where it turned, Harry followed, and with each passing second, he got closer to it. As they flew towards the teacher's stands at nearly fifty miles an hour, neither Harry nor the Snitch slowed down.

In that moment, he was playing a game of chicken with an Artifice and he honestly didn't care if he crashed right into Professor Dumbledore in front of half of Wizarding Britain, as long as he caught that damn Snitch.

Harry would be the first to admit that he had a competitive problem, but only so he could brag that he had said it first.

Fortuitously, the Snitch seemed to have better sense of self-preservation than he did, as it slowed down before it hit the teachers, probably so it could change directions, but Harry didn't give it the chance.

He extended his right arm and pulled the broom upwards with his left. Harry felt the fluttering wings and cool shell of the Snitch against his fingers at the same moment he heard the gasps and sounds of fright come from the teachers beneath him.

As flew out of the stadium, too fast to slow down before then, he couldn't help but fear that his little manoeuvre had turned some of the teachers against him. That would be a shame as final exams were only two weeks away, and he really didn't want his place at the top of his year to be jeopardised.

Seriously, no one was more aware than Harry that he possessed a competitive problem.

Harry flew back down to the pitch, only to be greeted, mid-air, by his ecstatic teammates. Harry, Fiona, Maria, Rodger and even calm and collected Andre were all screaming and crying like it was the best moment of their lives. Harry couldn't blame them, as Ravenclaw House came out onto the pitch in droves, lifting their Quidditch heroes up into the air. A beaming Professor Flitwick had to levitate the gleaming, silver Quidditch Cup towards them, and Harry, being the closest, caught it and lifted it over his head in triumph.

As the crowd roared, Harry took a deep breath and savoured his victory. After a lifetime of monotony and quiet disappointment in his tedious suburban existence, he knew that this surreal moment of success would stick with him forever.

He was on the top of the world.

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

The party in Ravenclaw tower that night was legendary.

Upbeat music played throughout the tower, and students were dancing all over the common room. The invisible ceiling, which revealed the darkening sky, was made only more magnificent by the fireworks that Maria let off, showering the students with harmless sparks and shading the room with all the colours of the rainbow. The wide windows had to be opened in order to clear out the smoke and the sounds from their party echoed out across the castle and its grounds all night long. Unlike last time, Professor Flitwick never came to reprimand them, as he was most likely too pleased with the idea of his house holding both the Quidditch and House Cups for the first time in decades.

In fact, every Ravenclaw was ecstatic with the idea of victory being within their grasp. After years of being brushed aside as the house filled with socially deficient weirdos and absent-minded intellectuals, the House of the Wise was now a step closer in being considered an equal adversary to the other three.

Or at least that was how everyone else was acting, as Harry observed the wild shenanigans of his housemates from his seat of glory, the comfy armchair by the fireplace.

Harry was being treated as the hero of the hour. Everything he desired, from the most comfortable seats to be given to him and his friends, to his favourite food and drink being brought right to his hand, was done without him even needing to open his mouth. Best of all, and unlike other matches, Harry was not forced to speak with students he barely knew and recount the match that they had already seen, as the newest players, Andre and Rodger were more than happy to soak in the attention.

Harry could see Andre by the windows, retelling his triumph over Flint for the fifth time to uproarious laughter, and Rodger was ignoring one of Maria's friends by the drinks table, trying to get Fiona's attention. Harry covered his smirk with another sip of his pineapple and cherry syrup drink. He couldn't tell if Fiona had noticed or not, but Harry had an inkling that their newest Chaser had something other than Quaffle play on his mind when he looked at her.

Honestly, the only thing that could have made this any better was if Michael had been here to enjoy it with him. His best friend was conspicuously absent however, as Harry was surrounded by every other First Year in the tower, all of them joining him by the fireplace in order to celebrate with him.

Even Terry, who had a still unexplained vendetta against Quidditch, was suffering through the endless conversations about it without a single complaint, just as happy as everyone else was with Ravenclaw's win. Amanda hadn't shied away either, not hiding in her dormitory as she always did when the common room became too crowded. In fact, she made it a point to congratulate Harry personally instead of having Su do it for her. He could guess how hard it was for her, as her face looked as pale as the Grey Lady's, and he sincerely appreciated the effort.

Now, as he finished his drink, while Anthony was threatening to finally reveal why his brother loathed broomsticks, he felt greedy in wanting Michael here as well. But he was worried about him, as he hadn't seen him since the match concluded hours ago. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he had even been there when they had been celebrating on the pitch, and he certainly hadn't been there when they had finally returned to the changing rooms. No one had caught sight of him in the tower either, Harry had asked upon his return, and he had kept an eye on the door, waiting with increasing anxiety for Michael's return.

As the sky turned completely to night, and fearing something horrible had happened again, Harry got to his feet and began to make his way to Maria. "I'll be right back," he told his friends, as he headed to the seats by the stairs where the Third Years were hanging out. Maria caught sight of his approach as he drew near and broke away from her friends to meet him halfway. She must have seen the serious expression on his face because she didn't even make a joke as she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Michael's not back yet, and no one's seen him since the match ended." Harry didn't waste any time. "I need the Map." He really hoped she still had it, as she was the last person to make use of it. Something about snacks for a late-night study session.

It was a mark of how much Eddie's suspension had affected her, as she didn't even tease him about being a worrier as she would have a month ago. "Wait here." Maria darted up the stairs towards the girl's dormitories, leaving Harry to wait awkwardly by the door, knowing her couldn't follow without his Invisibility Cloak. Thankfully, she returned in no time at all, an already wiped Map in her hand.

"He's in the kitchens, I've already checked." Maria handed the Map over to him. "He's alone. Are you going to him?"

Harry nodded. "I know he's been in a mood with me since everything went down with Robert in the forest, but it's past time we buried the hatchet." Maria nodded and headed back towards her friends. As he headed for the exit, he could hear her friends asking what he wanted.

"Oh, just some Charms notes from First Year." Maria lied, her eyeroll practically audible. "You know how overzealous firsties can get."

Annoyed at both their chuckles and how believable that lie was, Harry left the common room in a bit of a huff. Outside, at the top of the winding staircase, there were two older students, a couple looking for privacy. Grimacing, he averted his eyes and carefully made his way around as he was afraid of disturbing them. The only thing worse than walking in on a fornicating couple was attracting the attention of a said fornicating couple. Having made his way onto the staircase without notice, Harry took a deep breath. Now he could scrub that memory clean from his mind without anyone giving him any awkward reminders.

Away from the tower, and in the empty corridors of the school, Harry relished the feeling of the cool air against his skin as he made his way down to the kitchens. He had failed to realise when he was in the middle of it, but all the dancing had made the common room unreasonably hot, and even though he had removed and tied his flannel shirt around his waist, there was a thin layer of perspiration that had made even his thin t-shirt stick to him uncomfortably. But now that he was outside of the tower, the early summer air felt wondrous on his skin. He quickened his pace, wanting the Automatons to serve him a cool drink when he and Michael were finished making their peace.

Activating the Map, Harry was momentarily glad to see that Michael still hadn't moved from the kitchens, until he saw a label marked Susan Bones had now joined him. Susan's label was restless, moving back and forth, while Michael's was sedentary, seemingly frozen in his favourite spot near the ovens where the smell of baking food was the strongest. Fearing the worst, Harry broke out into a run, headed for the school's basements as quickly as he could.

Along the way, a glanced at his watch told him that it was long past W.O.M.B.A.T curfew, but all teachers were in their offices, apparently coming to a unanimous agreement to give Ravenclaw their night of triumph. He had nothing to fear with the exception of Filch and his cat, but they were busy patrolling the dungeons outside of the Slytherin common room, perhaps wary of some kind of reprisal towards Ravenclaw. Either that or he was just hoping some moronic Slytherin player or supporter would be morose enough to sneak out for a midnight snack (or drink) on the night of their defeat. Whatever the reason, it left Harry free to run as fast as he could through the school with only paintings and ghosts to scold him as he rocketed past.

Since he and his friends had been initiated into the Marauders, Harry had grown familiar with the route to the kitchens, the wide staircase leading to the basements, the broad stone corridor whose walls were all covered in art and, especially, the obnoxiously large painting of a bowl of fruit. Stopping in front of said painting, Harry took a few moments to catch his breath. He was already disgustingly sweaty, so he didn't want to show any other kind of vulnerability in front of Susan Bones either. She found ways to cut him down whenever he was anything other than optimal and he didn't want to give her free ammunition.

Finally felling presentable, Harry tickled the pear, which let out an absurd giggle, and turned the doorknob it turned into. Stepping through the opening, the first thing Harry noticed wasn't the giant room or the five tables perfectly mirroring the positions of the seating arrangement in the Great Hall directly above or even the dozens of Automatons working ceaselessly near the stoves and ovens against the far wall. No, the first thing he noticed was the sharp words Susan was directing at a frozen Michael's face.

"-I mean did Ravenclaw even need you? They certainly didn't need Hillard." Susan was saying. She was standing, pacing back and forth in front of her half-brother. Her back was turned to him so he couldn't see her expression, only Michael's, and he looked stubbornly stoic, but Harry could see his hands shake even from this distance and Susan seemed to have caught it too, as she stopped walking and doubled down on her last remark.

"What did he say to you? When you went to visit him? Oh, don't pretend," she laughed as Michael began to deny her statement, "my aunt told me you went with Hillard's parents. Did he tell you he was sorry? That he was under someone else's control? That's what all Dark Wizards say."

Michael spoke for the first time, hotly defending his brother. "Robert is not a Dark Wizard!"

Susan recoiled, seemingly surprised that Michael had finally snapped back at her. It took her a moment to gather herself, but before she could say anything else, Harry spoke up. "Oi! Bones!" Susan whirled around, only to find Harry's wand pointed at her face. "Oscausi!" Harry said lazily, flicking his wand carelessly at her. She gave a muffled screech as her lips were covered by a thin layer of skin and made to swipe at him. "I wouldn't if I were you." He warned her dangerously. "I've got a wand pointed right at you and I doubt someone of your class ranking would be capable of silent casting."

Susan's blue eyes flashed, and for a moment Harry was sure that she was going to disregard her clear disadvantage and attack him anyway. However, her sense of self-preservation persevered, and she carefully made her way around him, walking backwards as though afraid he would attack her if she turned her back to him. He wouldn't of course. Not unless he was the one at a clear disadvantage. The moment the back of her foot hit the portrait hole, she quickly turned and made her escape. Judging by her haste, she was planning on returning with a Prefect or worse, her Head of House.

"Come on, we better make our escape." Harry told Michael. "We don't want to be here if she comes back with Sprout in tow." The Hufflepuff Head of House was very protective of her students. However, Michael seemed less concerned with the possibility of another Saturday Detention than he was with Harry's appearance in the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, as though the kitchens weren't restricted to all students.

"Looking for you." Harry said calmly, not wanting to begin their reconciliation by matching Michael's hostile tone. "I haven't seen you since the match ended, and I was getting worried."

"I don't need your help! I've never needed your help!" Rather than match Harry's serene attitude, Michael's voice only got louder. "You always keep putting your nose where it isn't needed, and you always end up making things worse!"

"What?!" Harry's cool façade was thrown out the window. "I saved you from that Troll. Eliza and I saved you and Eddie in the forest. When have I ever made things worse?"

"Robert was undercover!" Michael's face had turned red as he screamed at Harry. Both his fists were clenched, and Harry was kept a close eye on them, wary of a physical attack. "He's been interning with the DMLE Prosecutor Office since he was a Third Year. He found out about Slughorn, about his debts, his secret Dark Arts club, and he told the Custodian Chief about it." His breathing was deep and erratic as he struggled to explain through his rage. "The Chief was an old favourite of Slughorn's, so he just brushed it under the carpet, but a high-ranking Officer heard about it and asked him to go undercover."

Harry kept his doubt off of his face as he asked, "So why hasn't he been released yet?"

Michael threw his arms out wide. "The Officer denied any involvement. Robert thinks he wanted a career defining case, but now that the issue resolved itself all that's left is blame and he wants nothing to do with it."

"Why doesn't Robert show any of the communication between them? That could exonerate him, couldn't it?"

"There isn't any. They met during Hogsmeade weekends for weekly reports." Harry opened his mouth to point out the obvious, but before he could say a word, Michael hastily continued. "And no-one saw them meet up either. They were incredibly careful."

Harry doubted any of this was true. Not only because he himself had been a spy in the same group and had made sure that nothing but Slughorn's word could connect him to the Silver Spears, but he had also had his Invisibility Cloak on hand for a hasty escape should they ever be caught mid-meeting and he had also made certain to collaborate his story with Eliza, just in case Quirrell tried to implicate either one of them. Two kids being pressured to join an illicit group by a teacher who had a vendetta against another made for a better story than two bright students not knowing that unsanctioned practice of the Dark Arts was illegal.

The idea that someone as intelligent as Robert not considering a similar cautious approach was unbelievable to him. However, what really made this story so hard for him to believe was the fight in the forest. He had only sent a Body-Bind-Curse at Michael, sure, but he had almost killed Harry more than once that night. He was willing to forgive their duel in the Silver Spear's little arena, but he couldn't forgive everything that had happened in the Forbidden Forest. It was just too much.

Michael must have seen the doubt in his face because he rose his voice again. "Eddie and I would have been fine without you! Robert's contact, the Officer, was waiting to rescue us!"

"Do you hear yourself?" Harry didn't bother keeping the derision out of his voice. "You two idiots would have been dead in a trunk if it wasn't for me!"

"Everything you touch goes straight to Bedlam! I would've avoided that Troll entirely if you'd just minded your own business and left me with the Mirror of Erised!" Michael was still shouting, but his voice seemed less hysterical now, as though he had thought on this matter for a long time and was just now getting around to saying them. "Because you ruined Robert's plan, Eddie's dad is pressing charges against him. His solicitor thinks he'll only get six years because he's still a minor." His voice scoffed at the word "only". "You even hurt Hagrid when you stole his Dragon! If you had just minded your own business everything would have been fine!"

"You didn't say anything before. How the hell was I supposed to know you thought it was a bad idea?" Harry said this without heat, as he was beginning to wonder why he even wanted to salvage his friendship with this whinging child.

"Because I didn't want to be left out!" Michael admitted, running his hands through his hair, frustrated. "You get these ideas and the rest of us just get swept up in them. You always manage to talk Anthony into agreeing with you, even when he thinks it's a bad idea. And Terry would agree to anything as long as it isn't boring." His shoulders slumped as he continued in a quieter voice. "I just wanted to be included. For once in my life."

There was a long stretch of silence as each boy stood facing the other, but steadfastly avoiding eye contact. The Automatons, even though they had been enchanted to hear and comprehend human speech, continued with their labour as though they were politely giving the students arguing in their midst some semblance of privacy.

Harry wasn't sure how long they both would have stood there in their shared sullen silence, but the stillness was shattered by the opening of the portrait door. Michael whirled around, only to be faced with a furious Professor Sprout leading in a smug Susan Bones. Her malicious grin made it clear that her Head of House had both freed her from Harry's curse and the fact that she had just squealed on them.

Sprout laid down the law before she even had two feet in the room. "Michael Corner! I am absolutely disgusted with your behaviour! Out of bounds? Breaking curfew? Cursing another student?" She drew herself up to her full (but not all that substantial) height. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Michael's eyes were wide. "I didn't curse her! It was-" He turned to face Harry, only to be met with empty air.

Hidden underneath his trusty Invisibility Cloak, Harry walked out of the kitchens, but only after grabbing himself that cool drink he had wanted. As he slipped through the still closing door, he saw Sprout turn to Susan. "Susan? Was it Corner who cursed you?"

Susan's eyes had been flitting all over the room since her arrival, trying to spot if Harry was still here, but as this chance to make Michael's life even harder presented itself, she made full use of it. "Yes, of course. You know about our shared history, Professor." The door closed before Harry could hear if Michael had responded to this, but Harry was willing to bet he hadn't. He had no spine when it came to his sister.

Normally, Harry would have gone out of his way to stop one of his friends from getting into trouble, especially if that trouble were caused by him. However, it was made painfully clear to him this evening that he and Michael were anything but friends.

Harry made the walk back to Ravenclaw tower alone, leaving Michael to his fate.

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

Normally, the end of a friendship would dominate Harry's mind for much of the foreseeable future. It had only happened once before, but Harry remembered feeling sad for weeks after Sara Bridger had stopped speaking to him, while Michael's attitude had left a far lesser impact.

Perhaps it was because her hurtful rejection had left him feeling like more of an aberration than he already did in a town of aching dullness, while Michael's distance had only left him feeling cold disdain for the boy's attitude. This was in spite of their friendship far outlasting the one he had with Sara, and Michael's understandable defence of his older brother. Harry just couldn't abide by someone blaming him for all their problems when he knew Robert was in the wrong.

Another reason, and a more pressing one in his mind, was the run up to final exams. It was difficult to spend any energy thinking about Michael when he was spending it all on his revision. The lack of Quidditch training made things far easier too, as it freed up more time he could spend in clubs, soaking in the advice of teachers and older students for the upcoming tests.

Also, his recent victory over Slytherin came in handy, as he and his friends were given priority seating in the study area by older students still on a high over the Quidditch Cup gleaming brightly on the mantelpiece. This came in useful after curfew, as late-night study sessions became the norm for every First Year but Michael, who holed himself away in his dormitory whenever he wasn't in class.

In no time at all, the first week of June arrived, and with it, exams. Nervous breakdowns became alarmingly mundane among the Second, Fifth and Seventh Years as exam week loomed, and students being taken to the Hospital Wing for a swig of the Draught of Peace was now a common sight. While this only worried the First Years about their own academic futures, Terry was unsympathetic to their plight.

"So dramatic." He muttered as a Fifth-Year boy had to be led away by Christopher and Penny. "If you ever see me freak out over an exam, just know that I've been replaced with an imposter."

"If I ever see you freak out about an exam, I'll know the apocalypse has arrived." Anthony replied, returning to his Astronomy notes.

Before the Easter Holiday, Harry would have been nervous over the practical portion of the exam, but his duel against Robert seemed to have changed things for him. His mastery over his Blackthorn wand had improved significantly, closing the gap between he and his classmates so much that it would have been impossible to tell who had an easier time casting spells on the first try if Harry hadn't been paying such close attention to other student's spell work since the beginning of the year. Now, whenever they practiced their spells, Harry could clearly see that he far outstripped his peers in both power and accuracy. He tried not to take too much pleasure in that fact. At least where other people could see him do so.

Harry had not come to any deep conclusions about himself recently, and he certainly hadn't found any inkling of self-peace. He still felt the same as he had before his duel in the forest, so he felt that his wand had either been impressed with his performance or his resolution to stand his ground. Either way, he was excited by how much further his wand could take him. Now that he was nearing the level of acceptance that his friends had with their own wands, he had to know how strong the connection between wand and caster could become. It would be a necessary tool in his arsenal, one that he needed to reach the goal he had privately set for himself.

His newfound accuracy was shown in full effect during his first practical exam. Still running high off the confidence he felt at the ease of the theoretical portion, Harry had to stop himself from swaggering into the Transfiguration classroom when Professor McGonagall called his name. Stopping in front of her desk, Harry awaited her instruction, observing the caged white mouse in the meantime.

"Mr. Potter, please turn this mouse into a snuffbox." McGonagall instructed, as she gestured to the caged little creature.

It was an ostensibly simple request, to change one object into another of a similar size but a different shape. They had been doing it since March after all, but this was different. This was not an object, but a living creature. They had only begun to work with live animals since the beginning of May and Harry had Quidditch on his mind at the time. If circumstances were a little different, Harry would have had to stop himself from glaring up at McGonagall as he struggled to do his best. But circumstances were different.

Certain of his own ability, Harry pointed his wand right at its tiny white flank. "Venusto!" As he traced his wand along the creatures' body, it began to turn into a solid walnut snuffbox, just like one that he had noticed several times at The Authoritative Pawnbrokers as a child. Harry drew from that memory and was immensely pleased by the results. The wood was glossy and scratch-free and on the lid, there was an intricate design; A stag with lilies on the antlers with an inscription written underneath:

Quod in te est, prome.

Harry lowered his wand with a smile, satisfied with how well his wand worked for him now. There was virtually no struggle. While the transformation was not as quick as he would have hoped, there was more detail than could be expected of a First Year, and there was not a single trace of the mouse left in his end result. Pleased, Harry glanced up at McGonagall, only to lean back at her uncharacteristic smile. If she noticed, she didn't let on.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. This is excellent work." She praised him. Harry smiled back at her, happy to take a compliment when he felt it was deserved.

His other exams followed a similar fashion. True to Terry's prediction at the beginning of the year, Harry was now running circles around the rest of his classmates. Well, he didn't know that for sure, but judging by the pleasant reaction all his teachers had, very few others could compare to him.

In Charms, Flitwick had asked him to make a pineapple dance, and Harry, remembering one of Sara's ballet practices he had been made to watch, enchanted his pineapple dance the parts he could remember. He thought a pineapple twirling like a ballerina without legs was an odd sight, but it was enough to make Flitwick break out in applause. He was still applauding when Harry opened the door to leave, the students who were waiting for their turn looking more nervous than they had before he had entered. Harry couldn't help but wink at Zacharias Smith as he entered the room next.

After that came Potions, which might have been difficult, especially with Snape so eager to make things harder than they had to be for his students. However, his dismissal of Slughorn's notes had clearly backfired on him, as he tested them on the Forgetfulness Potion; The exact same potion Slughorn had tested them on at the end of their first term.

When Snape made the announcement, Harry could feel the atmosphere shift, as many were overjoyed and many more were cautious of this being some kind of trick. Harry did his best not to look around and give the game away, but judging by Snape's sudden stiffening, he had caught on to his error through the use of Legilimency. He remained frozen like that for a long moment, torn between admitting his mistake to the class or continuing as though he still held all the power. In the end, mercifully, his pride won out and he asked them to begin brewing.

Harry left the classroom as satisfied as the rest of his classmates, all of whom were certain that they had passed at least one exam now. Harry tried not to laugh at Snape as he left the room, but it was a near thing. The sight of the Potions Master looking frustrated as he peered into every student's vial of Forgetfulness Potion, each as flawless as the last, made for a funny sight.

The only one that was upset was Terry. "I could have done that in my sleep." He tutted. "I know Slughorn turned out to be a nutter, but at least he pushed us, you know?" They were all in too good a mood to correct him on that one.

In Herbology, they were asked to repot a Puffapod without losing control of its spores. This was especially difficult as Puffapods were sensitive to magic, so they had to complete this task by hand, with Professor Sprout watching their progress carefully. Its spores flowered almost instantaneously when they came into contact with solid objects, which made them good for defence of one's home against Dark Beasts, but their real use was in antidotes, which made their spores so irritating to Potion Masters. As such, Herbologists such as Professor Sprout harvested them for a fee.

Harry let out a relieved breath when he completed the assigned task in good time without losing control of the spores. Sprout seemed to agree too, as congratulated him before sending him on his way.

History of Magic had to be the easiest of all. In fact, Harry was certain he could have scraped an Acceptable before he had even set foot in Hogwarts, given how much reading he had done over the summer. They were questioned on the First Great Wizarding War, founding of the Confederacy and how that had led to the Second Great Wizarding War.

Harry was momentarily torn, wondering if he would be rewarded or punished for including the context that he had gleaned from the journal Quirrell had loaned him, before deciding he was better off just ignoring it for now. Professor Archibald was a by the book kind of teacher, and he would not appreciate Harry's deviation from the assigned texts unless he could cite his sources. A few pieces of ancient parchment weren't going to cut it with him, so Harry didn't bother.

In Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid assigned them a task, just as he would for any given lesson. However, this time, he did not give them any kind of instruction, only telling them to keep their individually assigned Diricrawls safe and alive by the end of the afternoon. From lunch until dinner, they had to keep their creatures alive, healthy and well-fed. This wouldn't be all that difficult, if it weren't for the fact that Diricrawls could disappear and reappear somewhere else at will.

When his own Diricrawl vanished from his assigned enclosure, Harry swallowed his panic. Instead of worrying, he followed the simple instructions Hagrid had repeated often throughout the year, no matter what creature they were studying. All ways lure them in with good food and a den. While Diricrawls had nests and not dens, the advice still worked.

Harry had made his way to the food stores, returning with as much fish as he could levitate. Dumping it all in the corner, he then did his best to make the barren, indoor enclosure as alluring as possible for a magical bird. Using Severing and Levitating Charms on the grass and branches, Harry created a nest for the Diricrawl, but he didn't stop there.

"Tempestas Mutato!" While he tried his best, his Atmospheric Charm was nowhere near the level the N.E.W.T students were capable of in Charms Club but considering that he had only practiced the spell a few times on his own for fun, he thought the end result was pretty good.

When Hagrid slid the enclosure's door open at dinnertime, he found Harry sitting on the ground, cross legged, with his Arithmancy notes spread out on his lap, while the long since returned Diricrawl was sleeping in its new nest. It was taking a pleasant nap after all the fish it had eaten, and the environment of the room reflected the warm, humid air of its natural habitat. Hagrid's proud smile was all he needed to see to know that he had passed another exam with flying colours.

Their Astronomy exam took place at midnight, at the top of the Astronomy tower, with the roof open to observe the heavens above them. Professor Sinistra asked them to complete a detailed chart of that night's sky and to make detailed notes of which Esoteric Arts would be most affected on that particular night.

Harry carefully wrote down the effects a new moon could have on potion brewing, as elixirs that required a month to stew and mature were best started on the night of the new moon for heightened potency. Mars being visible in the night sky was a good for anyone engaging in Martial magic and Venus' appearance had an impact on love potions and compulsive spells.

After pausing, Harry added a Divination spin, even though it quite pained him to do so. Both Venus and Mars being so visible on the same night was meant to be bad luck for marriages, and wedding ceremonies tended to be avoided by the most superstitious of wizards and witches. Harry felt ashamed of himself for even writing that, but he wanted to be as thorough as possible. Sinistra had asked for the impact the celestial movements could have on all the Esoteric Arts and Divination was a branch of the Mind Arts, however fragile that branch may be.

Harry's shame continued the next day as he sat in the incense heavy classroom at the very top of the North Tower, opposite Professor Trelawney as she asked him to predict his own future from the dregs of the tea that she had made him drink. While he knew enough from the textbook on how to get an Outstanding on the theory portion, he was wary of being marked for his practical work for the first time. Hiding his resentment at what an incredible waste of time this class was, Harry stared impassively at the sludge at the bottom of his teacup.

"I see a shadowy future," Harry began ominously, "betrayals and broken bonds." He continued to describe, as vaguely as possible of course, a grim future for himself. By the time he was finished, Trelawney seemed captivated by the story he was weaving. She sent him on his way, claiming that he possessed the gift. If she weren't such a clear fraud, Harry would be worried about the tragedy that was his predicted future.

For the Arithmancy exam, Professor Vector asked them to analyse the foundations of theoretical magic. Essentially, they had to use the predictive qualities of Numerology to determine if their chosen theoretical potion, spell or runic complex would succeed or fail.

Harry had chosen the theoretical Martial Spell, as Defence Against the Dark Arts was his best subject, and determined, almost immediately, that it wouldn't work. He did it so fast that he was almost afraid that he had missed something obvious, but after carefully going over his work a few times, Harry knew that he had not. After carefully showing his work, he handed in his exam and packed his things before leaving the examination room. He was the first to do so after Anthony. While Harry was no slouch with numbers, Anthony outstripped him in this particular subject.

He also outstripped him in Runes. While Harry was still carefully going over his carving, Anthony was already packing away his things. Harry quickly squashed his desire to compete, if only temporarily, just so he could give his work all his focus. He couldn't afford to make a mistake at this juncture.

Professor Babbling instructed them to design a simple (her words) seven symbol Runic Complex Artifice. Harry had taken a padlock from the many items Babbling presented them with and began to design himself a lock that would repel the Dursleys from his bedroom.

After using the Tenmo Charm to carve the necessary Runes, Harry proceeded to charge it with his own Mana. Professor Babbling quickly came over to watch, and even though this made Harry feel as though he had made some kind of mistake along the way, he continued without taking his eyes off the lock, afraid of the repercussions if he allowed himself to become distracted.

Harry let out a breath as he saw the Runes turn black, a sign that they were now operational. It was not a true Artifice, as those could run independently of their creator and did not require a tune up, or repeated doses of Mana, but this was what W.O.M.B.A.T students were taught. Harry thought he had done a good job and Babbling agreed as she took the lock from his hands and began examining it for herself. He was fascinated by the way she examined it with her fingers, eyes and even her ears, instead of using the detection spells that she had taught them. This was a technique that he had only ever observed Masters use.

"Well done." She said, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the other students. "This is safe for personal use if you would like to keep it?" For a moment, he feared a trap. Harry had enchanted it with a Muggle-Repelling Charm, and he had intended to use it at Privet Drive in case the Dursleys got any idea about touching his property. Still, judging by Babbling's expression, she really didn't care what he used it for.

Harry smiled, as he took it back. "Thanks Professor." He smiled as he left the room, silently thanking teacher's everywhere who were uninvested in what their student got up to outside of the classroom.

For Healing, students needed to demonstrate their skill on the wounded animals Professor Jones had once again borrowed from the nearest Muggle veterinarian. Cuts, scratches and deep bruising was all supposed to be a part of their repertoires now, as well as knowing when to use a spell and when to use a potion.

Under Hestia's watchful eye, Harry cast a Cheering Charm on the fluffy white bunny, unable to stop himself from running his hand through its soft white fur. After a quick Diagnostic Charm to confirm the issue, Harry began to heal all of its cuts, and after carefully returning it to its cage, began to brew a quick Bruise-Healing Ointment.

The brew began to thicken upon his last stir in the cauldron, and Harry rubbed its contents deep into the bunny's fur, reaching the skin, and cast the Diagnostic Charm once more before watching as the bruises all over its body begin to fix themselves. When it was fully healed, Harry made sure to use Terego on the dried remnants of the ointment, before removing the Cheering Charm and returning it to its cage.

Forcing himself to ignore how adorable the rabbit was when its nose twitched nervously, he turned back to Hestia, only to find her straight faced. "Well?" Harry asked.

Surprisingly, Hestia rolled her eyes at him. "You are too much like your mother, you know that?" In fact, Harry did not know that, nor did he know Hestia had known his mother. Before he could decide if he wanted to ask her about it or not, she continued. "The Diagnostic Charm isn't necessary until your W.O.M.B.A.T, you know."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I like studying ahead." He shrugged, hiding the fact that he had only learnt it early to make sure she hadn't done anything to him other than give him his vaccines last summer. She shooed him off with a smile before calling the next student in.

The final exam, Defence Against the Dark Arts was by far his favourite. Quirrell simply had the students enter his classroom in alphabetical order and asked them to evade him as though he were pursuing them. Knowing that W.O.M.B.A.T students were really tested on their ability to evade Muggles, Harry knew that they were really being tested on how well they used evasive spells.

Harry had no trouble in showing off everything he had learned over the past year, spells that he had learned from Quirrell, the Siler Spears and the Marauders. It was actually quite fun, not just for Harry, but for all the remaining students waiting, as they witnessed the door to the classroom open by itself and Quirrell come running out a moment later, shouting, "Harry! This is out-of-bounds!" After a couple of seconds with no reply, the Defence Professor growled in frustration before taking off down the corridor.

Harry was rather pleased that it took almost fifteen minutes for Quirrell to find him. When he did so, he attempted to reprimand him. "The test was supposed to be inside the classroom."

"You never specified that."

"Only because I never expected a First Year to get that far."

Harry smiled, smug. "That's what you get for underestimating me."

Quirrell hummed. "Believe me, I won't be doing it again."

Harry really should have taken that warning to heart.