Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

So here's the chapter that I couldn't write yesterday because of the rugby. Given the result I'd almost have rather stayed at home and written, but what can you do?

Additionally, anyone who wants to read this in French might want to consider the version that LordHiraishin is just starting to translate and post under a similar title. I should probably mention he has my permission to do this so it's not plagiarism or story stealing.

Chapter 50

Colin Creevey dozed beside the fire in the common room, breathily heavily and steadily until his head slipped off the the edge of the chair back and jolted him back awake long enough for him to reposition himself and repeat the cycle.

The younger Gryffindor hadn't been dreaming, and Harry's attempts at wordless, wandless legilimency were not strong to give him any more than the slightest hint of thoughts or feelings. He saw nothing in the mind of a sleeping Creevey without using his wand, but it hardly surprised him.

Being able to cast the spell with any success without the incantation or a wand was quite exceptional, and had Harry been able to maintain eye contact he was sure his attempt would have let him glean something of his targets strongest emotions and thoughts.

He had agreed to stop teaching Neville earlier in the day. His friend was capable of clearing his mind during most of Harry's straightforward legilimency assaults, and occasionally capable of breaking the connection completely. Neville had asked, demanded and even pleaded to get Harry to do more than just contest their willpower or throw basic impressions and images at him, but he'd refused adamantly each time. If Salazar's opinions about the family's talent for mind arts were correct then there would be precious few wizards capable of matching Harry's attempts on Neville's mind.

'You're not looking very ill,' Katie remarked, drifting across to slump on the arm of Harry's chair. 'That horrible sickness you picked up yesterday has vanished.'

'I found a cure,' Harry smiled.

He had. The rest of the day had been spent sheltering under a succession of conjured umbrellas with Fleur's head on his shoulder. It had been the best moment in months. There was something very right about being with Fleur under their willow tree. Harry wanted nothing more than to go back, with Fleur suspended and at the Chateau the temptation was worse.

'Was it French medicine?' Katie asked innocently.

'Why would you think that?' Harry asked, trying furiously not blush at the memory of just how he had been kissing Fleur.

'I went to the hospital wing when Neville said you were sick, but you weren't there and nobody had seen you since your lesson with McGonagall.' Katie was beaming happily down at him from her perch on the arm of his chair. She knew she was right.

'I might have got lost on the route to the hospital wing,' Harry admitted.

'You can just admit you miss her,' Katie told him, ruffling his hair.

'Of course I miss her,' Harry caught her wrist and replaced her hand on the chair arm, 'I'll always miss her when she's away. That's how it's meant to be, isn't it?'

'I wouldn't really know,' Katie shrugged. 'I missed you when we briefly together but apart, but I missed spending time with you and talking with you more than anything else.'

'That's not the same,' Harry murmured quietly. He missed speaking with her, hearing her voice, hearing her laugh, but he missed the warmth of her head on his shoulder and being able to run his fingers through her cascade of silver hair.

'It is how it is, I guess,' Katie decided. 'Everyone's different. Just be careful about getting caught disappearing off to France. Rita Skeeter hasn't written anything about you in almost a week, she's probably desperate for another.'

'I'll be careful,' Harry promised. He certainly had to be more careful than he had been last time. There had been wet footprints by the door when he'd left the chamber, nobody ever tried to use Myrtle's bathroom, so someone had seen enough to become curious.

I'll have to ask Myrtle if she saw anyone.

'Since you were away did you happen to read what Skeeter wrote in the absence of a story about you or Dumbledore?

'No.' Harry looked up, interested, he'd never managed to have a more thorough look at the paper. 'I only glanced at the front page and noted I wasn't there.'

'Someone cast the Dark Mark over Godric's Hollow,' Katie lowered her voice to a whisper, 'the Ministry are blaming Sirius Black as an escaped supporter of You-Know-Who, but Skeeter went a bit off the script from the look of things. She mentioned that Black was last reported in Cyprus only three days ago, and that he never cast the Dark Mark after killing Peter Pettigrew.'

'Just enough to inspire doubt about the story,' Harry realised, puzzled. 'Maybe someone at the Ministry upset her and this is the only way she can get back at them.'

'Or she might just want more money,' Katie suggested lightly. 'The interesting thing is that the Prophet got into trouble for revealing the details of a secret investigation, so Skeeter shouldn't have known about the Cyprus thing at all.'

'I don't think she should know a lot of things that she writes,' Harry grinned. 'She must know someone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

'She is very good at finding out secrets, isn't she?' Katie mused. 'I wonder how she does it.'

'What else did the article say?' Harry asked.

'Not a great deal, it was only part of her column. There was a bit on the Dark Mark, that it's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's personal symbol and only cast by members of his inner circle, some of whom have escaped from Azkaban.' She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, shifting further on to the arm of Harry's chair. 'She speculated about why the mark might have been cast over Godric's Hollow too.'

'My parents,' Harry replied simply.

'The Daily Prophet believes it was Black taking credit for their deaths.'

'I suspect they'll never actually catch whomever was responsible, Sirius Black or not,' Harry commented. 'They didn't manage to keep him in Azkaban and they haven't found him in two years.'

'You don't seem all that concerned by it,' Katie remarked. 'The Dark Mark was cast over your parents house.'

'They died when I was a baby, Katie, and everyone knows who killed them,' Harry replied. 'The house is just a memorial, I've never set foot inside it. There isn't really a good reason for me to care, I'd rather they were casting big obvious pieces of magic in the sky than murdering people.'

'Maybe they're only just getting started,' Katie suggested darkly. Harry tilted his head to look up at her.

'Maybe they are,' he agreed. The more times he cast the mark somewhere appropriate the more doubt he would create in the minds of the Ministry and the public.

I'll have to think of another place to cast it soon.

'Enough gloomy talk,' Katie decided, forgetting that she was the one who had started talking about it in the first place. 'It's almost DA meeting time.' She gestured at the handful of people who were making their way out through the portrait.

'Have fun,' Harry encouraged, gently pushing her off the arm of the chair onto the floor.

'Oh no you don't, Harry,' Katie pouted up from the floor, 'you promised you were coming to this one.'

'I did, didn't I?' Harry remembered, frowning. 'Might as well get it over and done with, then.'

He dragged himself reluctantly out of his chair, offering Katie a hand to get back to her feet from where he had unceremoniously shoved her.

'Such a gentleman,' she laughed, pulling herself up.

'I try,' Harry nodded magnanimously. 'So what's the DA doing today?'

'Neville promised everyone that today would be the Patronus Charm. Hermione looked quite excited by it,' Katie embellished. 'There are going to be questions.'

'I'm sure there will be,' Harry remarked dryly. 'The Patronus Charm is a light spell, how are you able to cast it if you're a dark wizard?' Harry mimicked the squeaky voice of Dennis Creevey, the even smaller, more annoying version of Colin, who, unlike his older brother was almost as scared of Harry as he was of Katie.

Katie laughed, and dragged him towards the portrait, still holding his hand. Harry slipped it free to go first though the passageway.

'Harry.' He started slightly, Ginny's voice had come from right next to his ear.

'Ginny?' He hadn't spoken to her in a long time.

'I was wondering about something,' the red-head began. She was twisting her fingers round one another anxiously and Harry's stomach began to sink in expectation. Katie stepped out of the passage into his back, pushing him forwards.

'Ow,' she remarked, rubbing her chin from where it had hit his shoulder.

'I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade on the next weekend,' she blurted.

'We talked about this Ginny,' he sighed. 'I'm sorry, I can't.'

'You can't or you don't want to?' Ginny demanded, a little of her hope still lingered for the slight chance that he was busy and might come with her on another occasion.

'Both,' Harry replied gently. 'I don't want to keep leading you on.'

'Then why can't you go?' Ginny asked, throwing a glance past him at Katie who was hovering awkwardly off to one side looking very much like she wanted to be anywhere else but here.

Harry couldn't find an answer. He could hardly tell her about Fleur, but there didn't seem to a lie that fitted.

'He's busy,' Katie spoke up, saving him.

'Oh.' Something flickered in the red-head's eyes as she glanced between them. 'I see. I just had to ask, Harry. I promised myself that I'd ask one more time and if you said no then I'd move on.'

Harry knew he should say something to make her feel better, but he had no idea what. If Fleur had not returned his feelings there wouldn't be any words that would make him feel better. He opened and closed his mouth slightly several times, absent-mindedly watching a spot of blue crawling along the girl's shoulder.

'There are plenty of guys who would be lucky to be with you,' Katie told her, saving Harry once more.

'Just not the one I want,' Ginny answered, her tone slightly cool. 'I'll see you at the meeting, Harry,' she added, more warmly, spinning away on her heel in swirl of red hair. The spot of blue was brushed off her shoulder over the balustrade onto the stairs below.

'That could have gone worse,' Harry decided after a moment.

'It could have gone better too,' Katie commented softly. 'Did you see how she looked at us?' Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'She thinks the reason you can't go with her is me,' Katie explained.

'Oh,' Harry breathed.

'Exactly,' Katie agreed.

'Do you think she'll tell anyone?' Harry asked, more in hope than anything.

'Will she talk to her friends about why she's upset over you turning her down?'

'Well when you phrase it like that…' Harry trailed off. 'Everyone's going to believe it, aren't they?'

'Most likely.' Katie didn't seem too put out by it. In fact she seemed to find it more amusing than anything else. Harry supposed since they both knew it wasn't true and didn't want it to be that it was sort of funny, or at least it would be as long as Fleur didn't find out and jump to conclusions.

'I'll tell her we aren't together at the DA meeting,' Harry decided, belatedly following Ginny up towards the Room of Requirement. He wasn't risking Fleur misunderstanding what had happened.

'What will you tell her when she asks why you're busy? You aren't going to tell her about Fleur, are you?' Katie bounced after him, catching his arm to pull him back alongside her.

'I won't tell anyone about Fleur who doesn't already know,' Harry explained. 'I guess I just won't answer.'

'She won't believe you.'

'It isn't her I'm worried about believing me,' Harry reminded her. 'It's Fleur hearing about it that concerns me.'

'You could always swear an unbreakable vow,' Katie suggested lightly.

'I might have to,' Harry agreed. 'I'd rather do that than have her misunderstand.'

'You'd rather permanently bind your life and your magic than have her upset at you?' Katie was staring at him, a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

This time he did flush, realising he might have given away more of his feelings than he meant to, and looked away to admire the worst tapestry in all of Hogwarts.

'That's so sweet of you,' Katie sighed. 'I'm such a lucky a girl,' she giggled.

'Don't say things like that where other people can hear,' Harry pleaded. 'It stops being funny when important people think it's true.'

'They'll forget about it in a few weeks. I'll just have to look particularly insulted every time someone asks whether we're together.'

'Whatever it takes,' Harry agreed, glancing up and down the corridor, then opening the door.

'Ah, the teacher arrives,' Cedric announced. 'Neville was beginning to fear you weren't coming.'

'I promised I would,' Harry reminded him, stepping to the middle of the room.

The members of the DA were looking at him with a mixture of expectation and wariness, except for Hermione whose eagerness could not be contained. She was rocking back and forth on her heels, tapping her wand into her palm.

'The Patronus Charm is more advanced than anything else you will likely be learning at Hogwarts,' Harry began. 'It creates a partially tangible form of positive emotion and intent. The steps are relatively simple, you need only focus on a positive emotion and speak the incantation, but having the ability to cast it is another thing entirely.'

Harry spread his hands to indicate they should move apart from each other.

'Can anyone produce a patronus of any sort?' Harry asked, looking at Cedric.

'Nope,' he shook his head, 'if I knew how you wouldn't have nearly died when they interrupted our quidditch game in third year.'

'I can,' Hermione burst out. 'It's not a proper one like yours, but I can cast it.'

'Show everyone,' Harry instructed.

Hermione stepped out of the group, glowing pink with pride, but also appearing rather nervous.

'Expecto patronum,' she cried, closing her eyes.

A rush of silver vapour shot from her wand to form a shining shield between her and Harry.

'That's very impressive,' Harry remarked neutrally, 'self-taught I presume.'

'Yes,' she admitted.

'How long have you been trying?' Harry asked. 'All the way since the end of third year?' Hermione nodded, a little abashed that she hadn't completely mastered it in over a year.

'You heard the incantation,' he told the others. 'Hermione pronounced it perfectly. Focus on the happiest memory you have, or imagine something that will make you happier still, and then cast.'

'Which do you use?' Ginny asked.

'Whichever comes easiest,' Harry answered simply. It was a lie. He had used to imagine a scenario that would make him happy, but it had failed him in the maze. Now he was tempted to cast it off his happiest memories, but not in front of all the members of the DA, not if he could avoid it.

'Can you show us yours?' It was Cedric that had asked. Neville and Katie knew better than to ask him, well Neville did, Katie sometimes pushed her toes over the line. Cedric was the only other person in the room who would dare ask and Harry couldn't refuse without adding further fuel to the dark wizard rumours. He'd just have to hope that it didn't fail completely when he chose a memory that wasn't quite his happiest.

'Expecto patronum,' her murmured, sliding his wand a few inches out of his sleeve. A bright cloud of silver vapour burst from its tip, hovering in the air in front of him. The vapour didn't hang still like Hermione's had, it twisted and churned within itself, trying to take on a corporeal from, but not quite having the strength to manage it.

'I thought you said you could form a corporeal patronus,' Smith accused.

'He can,' Ron spoke up, 'we all saw it at quidditch in our third year when Malfoy tried to pretend to be a dementor.'

'Stags don't have feathers,' Terry Boot commented. Harry's gaze snapped back from Smith to his weakened patronus. The Ravenclaw was right, the tips of ghostly feathers shivered at the edges of the mist, flaring as if to catch the wind.

Harry dispelled it immediately. He didn't need everyone seeing whatever it was his patronus had become. He could cast it later without concern in the chamber to find out for himself.

'A patronus takes on a corporeal form that is unique to the caster,' Hermione recited. 'A corporeal patronus generally takes the shape of the animal the caster shares the deepest affinity with.'

'He probably doesn't want us to see what it is,' Smith sneered. 'It's likely a snake.'

'With feathers?' Terry Boot asked sceptically. Smith shot the Ravenclaw an angry look, but couldn't deny he had a point.

'It's changed,' Hermione remarked, staring at Harry. 'A corporeal patronus only changes when the caster has been though a dramatic, emotional upheaval. The book said things like loss, love and betrayal have caused changes in patronuses.'

Thanks, Hermione.

'Perhaps you should all try casting your own patroness now,' Harry instructed, moving the topic on from him and his patronus.

The members of the DA slowly split up and began to cast the Patronus Charm, most had little success beyond a few wisps of silver that shot from the wands to disperse into the air.

'Pick your happiest memory, or if that doesn't work choose something that would make you happy and imagine that while casting,' Harry reminded them. He took a seat on the floor nearby where Katie and Neville were trying.

Both of his friends were producing copious amounts of silver mist, but Katie's seemed to coalescing more each time she cast.

Watching with interest Harry sat back as the silver mist gradually transformed into a crow.

Katie pouted. 'Well that wasn't what I was expecting,' she beamed, far too happy about being the first person to manage a corporeal patronus to be upset by her rather surprising affinity for crows.

'That explains a lot,' one of the twins grinned.

'Oh great Dark Mistress,' the other added with as straight a face as possible.

'Well done for being the first,' Harry congratulated her. 'Though,' he surveyed the room, 'Cedric, Hermione and Neville look like they're getting fairly close now.'

Cedric got there before the two Gryffindors, a rather noble looking, silver badger forming from his wand to patrol rather cautiously around his feet.

The Hufflepuff grinned ruefully up at Harry. 'It was inevitable that it would be a badger, wasn't it?'

Hermione managed to produce a silver otter, that chattered cheerfully and scampered about her until it eventually faded to nothing. His former friend was still one of the most talented witches Harry knew of and he felt the otter quite suited her.

In the distraction that Hermione's otter caused Harry drew Ginny to one side.

'I'm not with Katie,' he told her bluntly. 'Don't get the wrong idea,' he warned, watching the hope begin to rise, 'I just don't want to have to listen to all the rumours about us. She doesn't deserve it.'

'Is she why your patronus changed?' Ginny asked, her tone cool.

'I don't think so,' Harry shook his head. 'A lot of my friends turned their backs on me last year,' he reminded her, 'that could be counted as both betrayal and loss.'

'Not love then,' she managed to joke weakly.

'No,' Harry lied, thinking of Fleur.

'I wasn't going to tell anyone,' Ginny said earnestly. 'I might have told my friends that I thought you were with someone else, but I thought you and Katie were trying to keep it a secret and just act like you were friends.'

'We are just friends,' Harry smiled. Ginny nodded, and glanced over at Katie who was watching the two of them curiously.

'I think she knows what we're talking about,' Ginny realised. 'I should keep practicing.'

Harry watched her produce a strong cloud of silver mist twice, before reclaiming his spot on the floor by Katie. The session would end in a few minutes for Gryffindor's quidditch practise and he could sneak off to test his Patronus Charm alone.

Only Neville managed to produce a corporeal patronus before the session ended and Harry left to make his way to the chamber.

His was the most surprising of all.

A clicking, gleaming silver scorpion shot from his wand and flexed its tail menacingly in front of his knees. His patronus' form was certainly interesting. Harry knew that the scorpion was used by ancient Egyptian wizards to represent the number six, but he vaguely remembered that they had also considered it symbolic of revenge, nature and had that scorpions had been considered the protectors of the dead.

Harry was very curious to know what his had become.

'Myrtle?' He asked quietly from the edge of the puddle, waiting for her to drift out from the cubicle she normally occupied.

'Harry,' she shot out though the wall to hover immediately in front of him. 'I had visitors at lunch time yesterday,' she warned, tapping her fingers together nervously. 'First years, or maybe second, they were very small. They wanted to know if there was anything special about the bathroom.'

'Did they decide anything?' Harry pressed, his stomach tightening in concern. The chamber was his lifeline, Salazar's advice, everything precious that he owned, his route to Fleur, almost every important aspect of his life would be affected if someone discovered he was using it.

'They never found anything,' Myrtle reassured him, 'but nobody has ever come looking here after you did.'

'If they come back, please tell me, Myrtle,' Harry asked. 'You don't know how important it is to me that the entrance remains a secret.'

'I'll tell you, Harry,' she promised. 'I always know when someone's in here. I can feel it.'

'Thanks.' Harry smiled, his fear averted for the time being. A pair of curious younger students who must have seen the door move on its own when he entered and come back to investigate at lunch after their lesson were not yet a problem.

'Open,' he commanded in parseltongue, waiting for a moment until the top of the staircase was visible before slipping through the still moving entrance and descending into the chamber.

'Mother, I'm home,' he called out upon reaching the beginning of the bridge.

'Welcome back, darling,' he heard the painting mutter with soft sarcasm as he entered the study. Harry chuckled and took a seat on the edge of the desk, shoving the greatly reduced bag of galleons to one side.

'I was wondering what you knew about the Patronus Charm?' Harry asked. 'Mine appears to have changed.'

'Changed?' Slytherin peered at him curiously.

'It used to be a stag, then I was almost unable to cast it, and now it seems to be something feathered, though I have't cast a complete corporeal charm yet.'

'That's interesting,' Salazar agreed. 'The charm itself is very old, it's one of the obvious, emotion-related concepts of magic, but very hard to produce despite that. My own patronus changed form twice.'

'When did it change?' Harry asked, hoping to glean some insight onto why his might have.

'If you wanted to know why you could have just asked,' the founder pointed out. 'It was originally a regular serpent, but when I met my wife it changed and became a runespoor. I was very proud of it.' His expression darkened with sorrow and more than a little regret. 'After my wife's death, and the beginning of my quest to try and undo the sacrifice I made it changed again, shifting to the form of a moth and so it remained until the time I was last able to cast it.'

'You stopped being able to cast it?' Harry inquired.

'You said you were almost unable to cast it, when was that?' Salazar asked.

'In the maze during the third task,' Harry answered. 'None of my memories seemed happy anymore, and I couldn't imagine anything that seemed particularly positive either.'

'Then you already know why,' Slytherin responded with a bitter smile. 'I told you that those who commit themselves to escaping death are consumed by their quest. By the end of my life everything else had lost meaning, and I had all but given up on ever discovering it. My happiest memories were tainted by loss and I could not longer cast it.'

Harry could see the similarities, though his case was far less extreme. His happy memories with his former Gryffindor friends were tainted just as Salazar's memories of his family had been, and his dream had seemed out of reach.

'Are you going to cast the charm and show me?' Slytherin pressed, gesturing eagerly with his wand.

Harry closed his eyes, picturing the times he had spent with Fleur over the summer, the warmth of the sun though the willow and the perfect feeling that this was how things should always be. Her remembered the brightness of her silver hair in the sun, the way she always smelt of burnt holly and tasted of sugar.

'Expecto Patronum,' he murmured, sliding his wand from his sleeve.

There was a rush of heat up his arm from his wand, and a great eagle burst from the ebony tip of his wand in an explosion of silver vapour. Standing as tall as he did it spread its ghostly wings across the width of the study, fluffing up its silver plumage and eyeing its surroundings with sharp intelligence.

'An eagle,' Harry commented, letting his patronus fade.

'That's not an eagle, Harry,' the founder breathed. 'That is an Anzu, a giant bird supposedly capable of magically breathing fire. They went extinct millennia ago and are only found in the oldest stories of Mesopotamia their homeland.'

'An extinct, fire-breathing eagle,' Harry grinned. 'I like it.'

'The fire-breathing aspect of the Anzu is possibly a mistranslation from non-magical histories that associate the bird with their element worshipping religion,' Salazar told him. 'Having an extinct creature, let alone a magical one, as the form of your patronus is very rare, but it does suit you.' Slytherin eyed him slyly. 'A new patronus with the form of an ancient Mesopotamian magical bird, do you know where the first veela are supposed to have come from?' His smile stretched wide and unusually soft. 'I don't think it's any mystery what caused this change.'

'I like my eagle,' Harry told him. 'Is that why it's that form?' He asked after a moment. 'Is it really because of Fleur?'

'It's an Anzu,' his ancestor reminded him, still smiling softly, 'most eagles would disappear under its wings. It seems that way, mine changed because I found my wife, and then when I lost her. Helga's never changed from a phoenix, Rowena's was always an owl and Godric's patronus was a griffin for as long as I knew him, but he mentioned it changed when his parents died.'

'It's actually that large in real life?' Harry asked, awed. 'I expected the other founders' patronuses to be the same as the house sigils.'

'They were extinct long before I was alive,' Slytherin shrugged, 'but the corporeal form of your patronus takes on the exact shape of the animal as far as I understand, so probably.' He peered down at Harry curiously. 'Why would you assume we would give away so mush information about ourselves? Rowena chose a bird famous for its intelligence, I chose the serpent because nobody would expect anything else from me, Godric wanted to choose a griffin, but I told him that would look vain, so he chose half a griffin instead, and Helga just liked badgers. She thought they were adorable.'

'That completely ruins my image of the four of you being the perfect embodiment of your houses traits,' Harry sighed.

'Rowena's is fairly accurate,' Salazar mused, 'mine too. Godric would have hated the students in his house if what I've heard from you is true. He valued bravery, loyalty and forgiveness above all else.'

'What about Helga?'

'She loved children. Helga spoiled every child she met, her nephews and nieces adored her more than they did their parents. It wouldn't matter which house you were in to her as long as she could mother you.'

'I wonder how Slytherin ended up having such a bad reputation,' Harry thought aloud.

Salazar laughed bitterly. 'The blame lies partly with myself and partly with the traits I valued. Ambition, cunning, intelligence and bravery can all be used to do terrible things, but while bravery can be foolish and intelligence misapplied, cunning can only really be outdone by others. It did not help that I dabbled greatly in dangerous magic in the final years of my life. That would have attracted a great many wizards and witches of questionable morals to my house.'

'Like Tom Riddle,' Harry muttered.

'He was nearly sorted into both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, actually,' the founder remarked. 'His ambition outweighed his desire for knowledge and the loyalty he felt towards a world that accepted him when his did not, but only just.'

Harry might have laughed at the image of Tom Riddle in Hufflepuff a year ago, but now, having glimpsed some of the moments from his childhood himself it did not surprise him or amuse him; it only made him sad.

'If only the magical world had not turned its back on him like the muggle one,' Harry voiced.

'If he had chosen either of Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff it might not have done,' Salazar commented sadly, 'but his desire was too strong and he did. There is little point regretting it now. I watched him change from Tom Riddle to Voldemort with pride and said nothing, not realising how much he had lost from himself in his becoming.'

'Could you have stopped him before he changed too much?'

'I believe so,' Salazar answered sadly, staring at Harry. 'I hope so.'

AN: Please read and review, thanks to everyone who keeps reviewing!

P.S. Nobody mention this Rugby World Cup to me ever again, I don't want to remember but, if you do, please include a note that tells me who your favourite character is in this fic and how you want them to die... ;)