It seemed strange, the next morning, when the sun was up and Harry was doing Arithmancy homework. The maths calculations in a brightly lit common room didn't seem to belong in the same place as a midnight conversation with an ancient basilisk.

Dumbledore had thanked Harry and Sirius for all their help, and told them both – mostly Sirius – that this was the sort of thing that should be kept quiet, just in case Tom Riddle worked out that his Horcruxes might be in danger (or at least discovered) if someone was talking with Empress. Harry had to admit that that was a very good reason, but it also made him sort of sad because it meant Empress wouldn't be able to actually meet with anyone for a very long time.

Even teaching her to understand English would take years of time, and the only people who could really do it were him and Hagrid.

Harry did his best to put her out of his mind at least while he did his school work, and that sort of worked – he got through his Arithmancy, breaking down numbers into prime factors and then sorting them according to which ones had what numerical importance – but once that was done the whole problem just sort of came back again.

Then Harry realized that Empress had been down there for a very long time without anything to read.

In a funny sort of way, that was almost worse to Harry. Not that it was something that he thought was worse – he liked books, but being without books wasn't worse than being unable to talk to someone for hundreds of years (let alone being forced to kill someone!) but because it was something small enough that he could actually think about it properly.

It happened that Harry had quite recently reached the point where he'd read everything that looked interesting in the entire Ravenclaw Library, so it was on his mind as well, and that evening (after dinner and some more homework, but before it was time for curfew) Harry took the blacked-out mirror and Dean's animated dragon picture out of the common room and into one of the disused classrooms.

Propping the picture up, Harry raised his wand and cast a Patronus.

"Empress," he began, as Ruth hovered in front of him. "I don't know how you feel, but I thought you might want someone to talk to, or… something."

He paused, thinking he really should have worked out what to say before sending the message, then continued. "I'll try to be on the other end of the mirror for an hour or so before midnight. You just say Harry to turn it on."

Harry almost offered to read her one of his books, as well, but decided that that was something they could decide on if Empress actually wanted to talk.

So he sent Ruth off to deliver his message, waited a few minutes to see if the mirror would start hissing straight away, and went back to the common room.

All this trying-to-solve-mysteries was very tiring, and he had Transfiguration to do.

Empress didn't ask for a talk, that night, though Harry did notice that she went back to her place near Nora's room for an hour or so around midnight.

It seemed as if nothing had happened last night… or as if Empress was trying to pretend nothing had happened last night.

Harry could sort of understand that, and he didn't want to force her, so instead once his Transfiguration was done (revision from second-year, which Neville enjoyed because his new wand meant he could actually cast most of the spells without really having to force it) he started writing a letter to Charlie Weasley.

Harry wasn't sure if he'd actually be able to send it, and he was going to ask Professor Dumbledore to give it a read to check if there was anything it that shouldn't be there, but it seemed like something he should at least write down for research reasons. It was about how it seemed like there hadn't been anything special about Nora or really about growing up in a magical place that had led to Nora being able to talk, but that it was specifically something about Hogwarts that had meant Nora had learned to speak Dragonish – and that maybe they should do an experiment with another dragon hatchling to see if they would learn the same way as Nora if they were raised at Hogwarts as well.

The idea of Hogwarts becoming a sort of weyr was one that really pleased Harry, though he did know that the castle was a lot smaller than Benden Weyr and there wouldn't really be enough room for even the barely-ticking-over two hundred dragons Benden had at the start of Dragonflight.

Maybe it could be a dragon school, though? Depending on how long Nora took to finish learning Dragonish, or Parseltongue (though Harry preferred 'Dragonish', personally, even though he knew the truth) maybe dragons from reserves all over Europe could be sent here to learn how to speak, and once there were enough of them those dragons could start teaching dragons in other reserves?

That would probably mean Hagrid spending a lot of his time teaching dragons how to understand English (even if they couldn't speak it) – and maybe teaching humans how to speak Dragonish as well – but that sounded like just the sort of thing that Hagrid would love to do.

Realizing he was a bit distracted, Harry went back and read over the letter to make sure he hadn't missed anything out or put in anything that should have gone later. It looked fine, and after a bit of thought he added a little bit about how Muggles used some tests to tell if animals were smart or not. One of them he'd read about was a test with a mirror, to see if the animal could recognize that the reflection was just them instead of a different animal, and he asked if Charlie could please try that test on one of the dragons at the Romanian reserve.

Nora had passed, and Harry was sort of wondering if that was normal or not.

One of the unusual properties of school holidays, Harry had found – especially the ones at Hogwarts – was that the end of them could creep up on you and take you by surprise.

Suddenly his schedule was full again, not just of classwork and homework but of revision as well, and Hermione had done some Arithmancy to work out a revision timetable for all of them so that they were working on the same things at the same time.

"So there's something I don't get about this," Ron said, looking at his one. "How come there's no times and stuff on here? It's just… an order of things, and some of the boxes say that one of us isn't needed."

"That's because I don't know how long homework will take, or when you'll be doing Quidditch," Hermione explained, tapping her copy. "Xerographia."

A third copy of the revision timetable appeared, and she gave it to Harry to look at. "So we all have one, and we check off the bits we've done when we've done them. If only some of us are around, we do one of the bits that doesn't need the people who aren't there."

She shrugged. "Obviously if Harry, Neville and Ron are all doing their dungeons and dragons thing then it'll have to be Divination, but that's a price worth paying."

"Why are you still doing Divination, anyway?" Dean asked. "I've been finding it kind of a laugh, but you clearly don't enjoy it."

"There might be something worthwhile in there," Hermione defended herself. "Somewhere. And it is fun watching when I bring up Muggle books."

Dean sniggered. "Yeah, that is a good point."

"I don't think we heard about this," Neville said.

"Oh, this was pretty fun," Dean explained. "Hermione got so annoyed about how divination was kind of vague that she started bringing up examples from Muggle fantasy books whenever we got onto a new topic. And they're always way easier to understand than the actual stuff we do in class."

"I'm just trying to make a point," Hermione said, but she was smiling. "When Boromir gets a prophecy dream, it tells him exactly where to go and even what's going to happen and who's going to do it. When Professor Trelawney makes a prediction, it's more like 'Something bad is going to happen next week' and anything could count."

Dean waved his hands. "Hey, I'm not disagreeing. I mean, I haven't died yet and she's predicted that hundreds of times."

He frowned. "Though, speaking of Boromir, isn't he the first one to die? I wonder if he's meant to be black?"

"I think it says he has a fair face," Harry contributed. "But I can't remember for sure. If it does say that then it only says it once."

His friend shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway, what are we going to do first?"

Hermione duplicated the last timetable, and pointed to the top left corner. "We're all here, so let's start with that one. Potions."

"Potions again," Ron grumbled. "It's following me."

"Be fair," Neville said. "Potions have been helpful to us."

He demonstrated by turning into a panther.

"...you know, I just thought of a fun joke for the train next year," Ron said. "All of us, and Fred and George, in the same compartment, and leave the door open. Any firsties going down the train are going to look in and think they're in the animal compartment."

"That sounds like a great idea!" said one of the twins, making Ron jump.

"Where did you come from?"

"Same place as you, Nutkin," the other one said – Harry took a quick sniff and confirmed that that one was George – and clapped Ron on the shoulder. "We'll make a prankster out of you yet."

"Why would we do that?" Fred asked. "We'd have competition."

"We have competition," George countered. "Besides, if we become his mentor we'd have all sorts of chances to sabotage him."

"You idiots do realize I can hear you, right?" Ron asked, shrugging George's hand off his shoulder.

"He can hear us!" Fred gasped. "The cure must have worked!"

"What are you blathering on about?" Ron said, glancing at his friends. Harry shrugged, and none of the others seemed to have any idea either.

"Didn't you hear?" George asked, then looked suddenly apologetic. "Oh, sorry, I should have realized. That was very insensitive of me."

"Prats," Ron muttered. "Okay, now I feel like I'm ready for some potions revision."

He picked up his quill, which folded itself into a circle. "...oh, what now?"

"Oddly, that wasn't one of ours," George said.

"It very much was one of ours," Fred corrected him. "That's the prototype."

"Oh, the prototype," George nodded. "I remember now."

"Shouldn't you two be revising?" Hermione asked. "You've got OWLs in a few months."

"OWLs are easy," Fred shrugged. "Just tell them where to deliver the letter and it gets there just fine."

After a moment's thought, Hermione took her wand out of her pocket.

"Percy?" she asked. "Would I get in trouble for hexing someone in the Common Room?"

"You certainly would!" Percy replied, sounding shocked, then looked up from his History of Magic textbook. "Oh, it's them. Go ahead."

"I think we should retreat, Fred," Fred said.

"Agreed, Fred," George agreed.

Both twins promptly shifted into their Animagus forms and scampered across the common room, and Hermione lowered her wand with a huff.

"Potions," she said.

"I'm not going to argue," Dean said quietly.

Then he looked over at Neville. "Um… mate, are you going to stay as a panther?"

Neville gave a feline shrug.

"We should do the Confusing Concoction," Hermione suggested. "It's one of the tricky ones because you have to get it to thicken, and that means preparing the lovage correctly."

"Why that one in particular?" Ron asked.

"Well, it is only a guess, but I think we might have it on the exam," Hermione answered. "You remember how we had the Forgetfulness Potion in first year? And then the Memory Potion in second year? It seems like a bit of a pattern to me."

"Would Professor Snape include a clue like that in his exams?" Harry frowned. "It seems more like the sort of thing you'd get in a Redwall book, except with a bit less magic."

He paused. "Actually, have you mentioned the Redwall books for examples of divination?"

"No, but I'm going to try if we ever do finding clues in old books," Hermione promised. "And he might. It's a very Slytherin thing to do, leaving a clue which you have to be sneaky to think of."

"But it'd also be a really Slytherin thing to do to set up that pattern and then break it," Ron said gloomily. "So we'll have to revise everything anyway."

"At least we've got a timetable for it," Dean pointed out. "Don't you agree, Neville?"

Neville did his best to do a pantherine meow.

Because it was into the season for the exams, Harry did one last session of the Dungeons and Dragons campaign so they would finish at a good point and they could pick up again after the exams were over. It seemed like the best way to do things, especially because the way the terms were arranged at Hogwarts that meant they could do a few sessions before heading off home for the summer holidays.

It wasn't really something he'd planned out ahead of time, but it so happened that that final session was about going and clearing out an old Elven village that had been taken over by Orcs. It had been set up to be a hard fight, but at the last minute Harry decided to have some of the Orcs so impressed by the group that they just panicked and ran away.

That still meant there was fighting to do, especially with the troll, and by the time the fight was over they were right near the end of the session. Ron's squirrel had a few major injuries and had to drink a whole healing potion – which wasn't much smaller than he was – and everyone else had at least a few scrapes which James' cleric had to heal, but it was then that Harry mentioned the final thing in the village.

"Hold on, go back a bit," Neville requested. "Can you say that bit again?"

Harry read off from his notes again. "There's an Elven boat in the dock, with silver sails and lanterns and a swan prow."

"Isn't that how Eärendil's boat was described?" Neville asked. "Hold on, um… what do I roll to find out?"

"Seamanship, Poetry or, um – or history, that's the other one," Harry replied.

Neville rolled a die, and Harry peered at it for a moment before deciding it was good enough.

"It doesn't quite look like how Eärendil's boat is supposed to look," he answered. "It looks similar, but not quite the same, and it says this on the side."

It was a bit hard to pronounce Rhofel sûl, but Harry did his best attempt as he held up the paper he'd written it on.

"What does that mean if you translate it from Elvish?" Tanisis asked.

Harry answered that it meant Wind's Feather, or close enough, and the last twenty minutes or so of the session – before they had to stop because it was nearly curfew – were taken up by poking around the boat and seeing if it was in good shape.

Right at the last minute, Harry said that when Colin took the ship's tiller the whole thing shivered and rose about a foot into the air.

"Wait, it did what?" Colin asked.

"We don't have any time," Harry apologized.

"You can't leave it at that!" Su groaned. "We'll be waiting for months to find out that means!"

Harry shrugged his wings, and started packing up his notes.

"That is a horrible trick, mate," Ron accused him.

It was, a bit, but Harry thought it was worth it.

Late one night, not long before midnight, Harry watched the Marauder's Map as Empress lay outside Nora's room.

He'd given the other side of Nora's mirror back to Hagrid, so he didn't know what Empress was saying, but if he had to guess he'd say it was probably more language lessons. Harry wasn't really clear on whether her reason for it was the same as the reason for it she'd started with, but she was still doing it and Harry was grateful for it.

He was just starting on a book called Five Hundred Years After, one of the same ones by the person who'd written the Dragaera books and set in the same world but a long time before the main books – which was sort of funny when you thought about it – when Empress moved from her place by Nora's room and disappeared off the map.

A minute or so later, he heard a whisper from the blacked-out mirror in his pocket. "Harry."

"Good evening, Empress," he said, remembering to keep his focus on the front cover of his copy of Dragonflight while he spoke. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," Empress replied.

There was a long silence, which Harry didn't try to fill.

"It has been a long time since I was able to have a conversation," Empress said, eventually. "And most of the humans I spoke to were…"

Another sigh. "I apologize. I have been thinking about your offer since you made it, and I thought I should at least try."

"I could read you a story," Harry suggested. "I've got a lot of them, but I might need to go a bit slowly so I can translate it properly."

After a moment's thought, the dragon decided he should clarify. "Oh, I'm not sure if you know what sort of story I mean."

"A story, a tale… these words all mean the same thing," Empress said. "Even the words sound the same."

They didn't to Harry, but maybe that was just another thing about Dragonish.

"What I mean is, I've read somewhere that the novel wasn't invented until hundreds of years after Hogwarts was founded, and fantasy novels are sort of new," Harry went on.

"A… novel," Empress repeated. "What a curious word. It is almost 'story', but I have never quite heard 'novel' before."

There was a slight slithering sound. "What is a novel?"

"A novel is… usually it means a story which is made up to be a story," Harry said, realizing as he did that he wasn't entirely sure of the definition himself. "Some novels are based on real events, but most aren't. Some of them aren't even set in a real place."

He slid Five Hundred Years Later away across the table, and got another book out – one he'd had ready just in case. "I can only speak snake language when I'm looking at a dragon or a picture of a dragon, so it might be a bit awkward for me to read this, but… shall we give it a go?"

"You have made me curious," Empress said. "I believe I will be interested in hearing what a novel is like."

"All right," Harry said, leafing through to find the front page. "If any of this doesn't make sense, just ask me."

He took a deep breath.

"In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit."

"A hobbit?" Empress repeated.

Harry confirmed that that was the word he had used.

There was a long silence after that.

"Well. At least a hole in the ground is a sensible place to live."

Harry smiled, and kept going. "Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell…"

It was a little bit awkward to keep his newest extra bit of routine going properly as they progressed rapidly towards the exams, but Harry had always been okay with getting only about six hours of sleep – and so he was able to stay up a bit past midnight every day and still get up at the same time as everyone else (if not earlier).

Usually that midnight hour was spent reading, with only occasional questions by Empress, but sometimes she asked a bit about what had happened over the last thousand years. Harry was sort of surprised to find that she did know about the Norman Conquest but hadn't heard of the Muggle Parliament, or at least when Harry described it she asked if he was talking about something the Normans had got rid of.

Harry had had to look that one up and check whether it was the same thing.

She'd also never heard of the rules about the difference between Beings and Beasts, and after talking to her about it Harry had to admit that it certainly sounded like she could be classified as a Being. There was a language problem, but since Hagrid already spoke Parseltongue then it didn't seem impossible – and hadn't Merpeople chosen to be Beasts, instead of being classified as Beasts because of their language problems?

(Harry wondered if maybe Parseltongue, or Dragonish, would be a good language to teach everyone if it was a magical language that everyone could understand like their own language.)

The only real problem was how to make it so Empress could interact with everyone, but that was such a big problem that it was really several problems mixed together. Not only was there the danger of Empress accidentally killing lots of people, but there was the problem of making people okay with talking to a giant snake that everyone thought would kill you (accidentally or deliberately) and also the little side problem about how – with his Horcruxes still intact, and most of them hidden away – Tom Riddle might come back, and if Empress was in the newspapers he'd obviously know that something was a bit wrong.

Those problems all together gave Harry quite a puzzle to think about, just as much of one as trying to contact Empress had originally been, and he had to take care not to get distracted thinking about it during lessons (Professor Snape's Potions lessons were getting more and more advanced, for example) or during revision (because even Professor Kettleburn would be unimpressed if Harry's answer on an exam paper was something about how a basilisk losing her eyes would make her safer to be around, but would also be really icky.)

It was sort of a pity that exams were still going to happen, so Harry couldn't focus all his attention on the problem, but exams were important (as Hermione was happy to remind them all) and so it was probably for the best overall.

Perhaps Harry was more distracted than he'd realized, because when he came downstairs one morning and everyone in the common room was talking about Quidditch it took him a moment to remember what was going on.

"Hufflepuff are our main rivals for the cup this year," Oliver was saying, with the other Quidditch team members crowded in a semicircle around him and what looked like half the house crowded around them – including Ron, naturally. "They've got a good team, and a good Chaser squad. If someone catches the Snitch quickly then whoever that is wins the cup – but Hufflepuff are up sixty, so if they get enough goals we might end up having to wait to catch the Snitch."

Colin raised his hand.

"Yes, Colin?" Oliver asked.

"Isn't that mostly something for Ginny to think about?" he asked.

"It's something for everybody to think about," Oliver countered. "There's tactics involved. If one team is going to win no matter who catches the Snitch, then their Beaters need to start looking for the Snitch as well – it doesn't matter if someone from the other team spots it at that point – and the Beaters on the other team have more freedom to do what they want."

"Couldn't we just ask Harry?" Fred suggested. "He's bound to know."

"I don't think spectators are allowed to help," Katie replied.

"She's right, unfortunately," Oliver said. "Arguably it's best if Harry doesn't watch at all, but so long as he doesn't stare at the Snitch all the time it's probably all right."

He checked his watch. "All right, we'd better get going."

"Mate, it's two hours until we kick off," Ron pointed out.

"That just means we'll get a good idea of the conditions," Oliver replied.

"We haven't had breakfast yet," Alicia protested.

"All right, fine," Oliver allowed. "Breakfast, then Quidditch pitch."

Harry watched them go, then stretched.

"All right?" Dean asked.

"Mostly surprised," Harry admitted. "I'd forgotten the Quidditch final was today."

He paused, frowning. "Is it me or is it always us in the final?"

"I think we're always in the last game," Neville said. "And because of the way the scoring works, the teams in the last game always have a chance of winning the cup."

He glanced at Hermione. "That's right, right?"

"Yes, because no matter who's on top of the league table the winning team could get enough points to go past them," Hermione confirmed.

"That sort of thing can make League games in football a bit awkward," Dean contributed. "But then again, they play all the last league games of the season at the same time so nobody can know stuff they shouldn't."

He sniggered. "I remember hearing about one game where the teams did know that sort of thing, and they knew that if they got a draw then both of them would go through."

"So, hold on," Neville said, raising a hand. "So in football you… have a set length for the match… and then you have penalties?"

"You have a penalty shootout and stuff in games you know someone has to win," Dean clarified. "Like an FA Cup game. But in a League game you just play until the end of the time and if it's a draw it's a draw… so they just kind of kicked the ball around in the middle of the pitch for an hour and a half. Everyone got really angry."

"Can you imagine trying to have a draw in modern Quidditch?" Neville asked. "You'd have to play for three months. Or eat the Snitch and have that ruled as not catching it."

"Oh, what subject are we going to talk about during the game?" Harry asked. "If Hermione wants us to do revision, I mean."

"You could do Creatures," Neville suggested. "That's one that you three are doing, and it's sort of relevant to Defence Against the Dark Arts."

The weather was perfect for Quidditch, with scattered high clouds and not much wind and air that was crystal clear.

"And… we've got down here at eleven o'clock," Hermione said to herself, looking at her watch. "Good."

Harry thought that was probably because Hermione was Timing It, or going to Time It, but didn't say anything because it wasn't really all that important.

He did sort of wonder what would happen if the game kept going until exam time, though.

"What does it count as if one side scores fifteen more goals and the other gets the Snitch?" Dean asked, as they took their seats. "I can't remember if there's a rule about that."

"Whoever gets the Snitch counts as winning if it's a cup game," Neville told him. "If it's a League game… well, I think it might actually count as a draw, but it's not happened in ages."

"Of course it hasn't," Blaise said, sitting down on Harry's other side without bothering to ask. "Either one of the Seekers is good enough to catch the Snitch early on, before one side has had the chance to get a fifteen goal lead, or the game is long enough that the time when there is a fifteen goal lead is very short. It's simple if you think about it."

"We're sitting in the Gryffindor section?" Daphne asked him, surprised.

"No, they're sitting in the Slytherin section," Tracey replied. "You watch, that's exactly the argument he'll make..."

"Absolutely not," Blaise countered. "Why would I say that?"

"What is the reason, then?" Dean said.

"Well, it's simple," Blaise shrugged. "Why are there even areas for certain Houses to sit?"

"Moral support?" Neville suggested. "Or to stop fights breaking out, especially in the Lion-Snake games."

"Exactly," Blaise agreed. "And in neither case is it relevant to this match. I can sit wherever I like."

"...whatever," Daphne said. "Anybody want some sweets? They're mostly leftovers from last time I went to Hogsmeade."

Harry had a look, and asked if anyone else wanted any Cockroach Clusters. Nobody did, so he fished all of them out and had a nice little pile to work with.

Then he got all the wrappers, as well.

"It's still really weird to watch you eat that stuff," Neville confided. "It's been years and I'm still not used to how you can just… eat wrappers like that."

"They're not my favourite, but they've got a nice crunchy texture," Harry explained. "And if I do this..."

He concentrated, and carefully exhaled just a bit of fire. Smoke came out of his nose, and he licked the gooey melted wrappers up before swallowing them.

"It's a bit like cheese, but tasting more of petrol," he finished.

"I was going to say that Muggles think the fumes from plastic are unhealthy," Hermione said. "But I don't think that really applies for you."

The kickoff came a few minutes later, all fourteen players pushing off from the ground at once, and the Hufflepuff team's Chasers immediately went on the attack.

Harry could tell that Cedric had really worked hard on making his team work together – just as hard as Oliver had – and before long the Quaffle was bouncing back and forth between the two Chaser teams and goals were racking up in a steady stream.

It looked to Harry like one of the big differences between the teams was what role each of the captains played. On the one paw, Cedric could fly up high to both look for the Snitch and keep an eye on how the team was doing, so he could get a view of the whole game and point out things to do, but on the other paw Oliver would have to be watching the players anyway as the Keeper and so he was doing his job – while Cedric inevitably had to focus on something that wasn't looking for the Snitch.

On the third paw (which was a dragonish saying that humans didn't really have, or that was what Harry had decided) it wasn't like either of the other two possible posts for a captain would be ideal either. Maybe the best thing for the captain to be doing was standing on the pitch shouting instructions?

Or maybe just sending Patronuses up with instructions. Harry was fairly sure that casting spells and stuff would break the rules if you were a player, unless the spell didn't interfere with the game, but if you were a spectator?

He'd probably have to check Quidditch Through The Ages to be sure.

Half an hour into the game, and with Hufflepuff having clawed out a thirty-point advantage with both sides at around two hundred points, Harry finished the last of his Cockroach Clusters.

"I've never really grasped why someone came up with that," Neville said, watching as Harry licked the bits off his talons. "I get why you might like it, but… everyone else?"

"Apparently in other countries they like insects," Dean suggested.

"It's an acquired taste," Blaise informed them. "One I've never been interested in acquiring in the first place."

"But couldn't you say that about most tastes?" Daphne frowned. "Apart from, you know. Chocolate. And bacon."

"I just tend to find most things tasty," Harry shrugged. "I'd have to think for a bit to come up with something that wasn't tasty the first time."

There was a loud thwack from the direction of the game, and as they all looked up a groan came from the stands.

"Time out!" Cedric bellowed, and Harry looked from player to player before spotting that Oliver was having trouble holding on to his broom.

Professor Dumbledore cast something from where he was spectating, and the Bludgers stopped moving entirely for long enough for the two Hufflepuff Beaters to grab them and wrestle them to the ground. Fred and George were too busy flying over to help Oliver, and after some careful work they lowered the Gryffindor Keeper to the ground.

"What happened?" Neville asked. "I can't see very well."

"I think Oliver took a Bludger somewhere he shouldn't have," Harry said, taking his glasses off in case the difference would let him see just a bit better. "There's Madam Pomfrey."

The School Nurse hurried over to Oliver, passing her wand over him a few times, then said something that Harry couldn't make out – he'd never learned to lip read and she was halfway across the stadium.

"It looks like Oliver Wood's been injured," Lee's commentary said. "I'm just being told now by Professor McGonagall that it looks like he'll need to miss the rest of the match."

"That's not good," Blaise commented. "It'd be a dreadful shame if Hufflepuff won the Quidditch Cup, you know."

"Why's that?" Dean asked. "Didn't they win it in our first year?"

"Well, yes," Blaise agreed. "That's why it'd be dreadful. Being beaten by Gryffindor is one thing, but being beaten by Hufflepuff..."

"Technically," Hermione began. "I think that no matter who wins this game both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor will have beaten Slytherin in the Quidditch Cup."

"Stop using logic, Granger," Daphne declared grandly. "That's a Ravenclaw thing."

"I like Ravenclaws," Harry said, then frowned. "Are you sure logic is a Ravenclaw thing?"

"Ron's going up," Neville told them, and Harry realized Neville was the only one still actually paying attention to the pitch.

True to what he'd said, Ron was hovering up to take his place in front of the goal hoops. He looked a bit nervous, but one of the twins said something to him and that seemed to help.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and one of the Hufflepuff Chasers restarted the game. The Quaffle went from him to one of his teammates, then Katie took it, and she had to duck away from a Bludger and Hufflepuff regained possession.

The Hufflepuff Chaser wove left to get past Alicia and break free from the Gryffindor team, then went hurtling towards the Gryffindor goals, and Harry held his breath.

Ron wobbled slightly in the air, trying to cover all three goal hoops. The Chaser went up slightly, so Ron reacted by climbing as well, and then the Chaser completely switched tactics and dove.

Ron dove as well, then rolled his broom. He slid off it almost completely, only holding on by his widely separated hands, and the unexpected appearance of a boot at about eye level made Hufflepuff's Chaser flinch. Her shot went wide, bouncing on the rim of the goal hoop instead of going in, and there was a slightly baffled cheer from most of the Gryffindors in the stands.

"...is he mad?" Tracey asked. "I didn't really get that sense from him."

"He is a squirrel some of the time," Dean said critically. "So who knows, really."

A moment after Dean had said that, Ron decided that trying to climb back onto his broom like this was too difficult. Instead he did something slightly complicated involving shoving his hands downwards, momentarily shifted to Nutkin, and when he was back in human form he was solidly back on the broom and flying down to grab the ball before it hit the ground.

"Angelina!" he called, loudly enough to hear in the stands, and threw it to the nearest Gryffindor Chaser.

"He might be mad, though," Harry added his own opinion. "I'm mad. You're mad."

"Mad?" Hermione asked. "I'm not mad."

"You must be," Harry shrugged. "Or you wouldn't have come here."

Hermione giggled, and Harry had to snigger as well.

"Was that some kind of Muggle joke?" Blaise said.

"I'll have to lend you Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," Harry decided. "Actually, I'm not sure what someone who grew up a Wizard would think of it."

Gryffindor scored a few seconds later, as Fred used one of the Bludgers to knock a wayward Quaffle into the goal hoop.

"That's just not croquet," Hermione managed, before giggling again.

"Don't you do that with flamingos?" Dean asked. "I have seen the film."

Despite his spectacular first save, Ron didn't manage to keep a clean sheet – if that was a Quidditch term and not just a football term, that was. Sometimes he was able to do really good acrobatic saves, saves which had Harry wincing a bit, but when he was in a simpler situation he sometimes got a bit flustered and let the Quaffle through.

It was enough to keep the scores roughly level, though, and the game went on for almost another hour before finally both Seekers spotted the Snitch at the same moment.

Cedric went for it as hard as he could, and so did Ginny, and the Snitch seemed to notice them coming and dropped towards the grass.

Harry leaned forwards in his seat to watch more closely. He saw out of the corner of his eye that someone had dropped the Quaffle, but more important was that Ginny was coming from further away but moving faster – her broom was better and she was crouched low over the handle-

-then they both reached the golden spark at the same moment, and there was a tremendous crash which ended with both Seekers sprawled on the ground.

"What happened?" Dean demanded. "I can't see! Who's got the Snitch!"

Harry couldn't see the Snitch either. Neither Ginny nor Cedric had anything in their hands as they rolled upright, and the rest of the teams were descending to see if they were all right – apart from the Beaters, who were doing their usual duty of corralling the Bludgers – and it didn't look like anyone was choking, either.

A moment later, squinting, Harry spotted a little spark of gold on the grass.

And another about two feet away.

And more…

"Well?" Neville said. "Did Ginny get it, or did Cedric?"

"I don't think anyone got it," Harry replied.

"...is that even an option?" Daphne frowned.

"What, really?" Lee Jordan asked, his startled voice booming out over the crowd. "Er, sorry about that, everyone – I've just been told that the Snitch got smashed into a thousand pieces between two broom handles. Neither Seeker got it."

He went on, puzzled and slightly quieter. "Is that the end of the game? It's not like anyone can catch the Snitch now… it's exploded! How do you catch something that's exploded?"

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "I just realized something!"

"Do go on," Blaise invited.

"Well – I think this is something the rulebook doesn't cover," Hermione explained. "So that means that there's going to be a new edition of Quidditch Through The Ages, and a new rulebook, and Cedric and Ginny are going to be in it."

"Okay, I've been told that it's going to be considered a draw for the Snitch," Lee announced. "So neither Seeker gets any points. That means..."

He paused. "Oh! Um, it's a draw? I think? I'm not used to there not being any points for the Snitch..."

"So that's how you get a draw," Dean said, then stood up and started applauding.

Harry decided he should do the same, and it spread from there in a kind of hesitant fits-and-starts sort of way until almost everyone was clapping.

It had been a good game, he had to admit.

AN:

Moving steadily on through third year.

So once you know there's a thousand year old basilisk living in the basement… does it really change everything? It changes some things, but… she's been there for a thousand years, after all.