Disclaimer: One Piece and Harry Potter does not belong to me, each belongs to their respective author.

Challenge by TheBlackSeaReaper.

-.- The Rogue Bludger

Did I mention how much Ace hated Lockhart? Something about the man bothered him, maybe it was his way of being, but now more than ever he wanted to light the man on fire.

Since the small slip of Dumbledore, the man paid more attention to Ace than normal, he greeted him in the corridors and of course, Ace ignored him; or invited him to participate, which Ace never did. The man only took a week to understand that there was a reason why the list of students said "Portgas D. Ace" and that he should not be called "Harry Potter"

However, although he began to call him Ace, the young pirate was still ignoring him and consequently sleeping in class.

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework. Compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

The class began to leave.

"Ready?" Neville muttered.

"Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right . . ."

She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Neville and Ron right behind her.

"Er — Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to — to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it — I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms —"

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer —"

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book signings." He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione.

"So, Ace," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players. . . ."

Ace ignored him completely, and simply turned to follow Neville, Ron and Hermione to the library.

"I don't believe it," Neville said as the three of them examined the signature on the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed —"

"He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as they half ran toward the library. "Just because he said you were the best student of the year —" They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library.

Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture.

"Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go.

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, come on," said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough."

Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty.

"Did you have it?" Asked one of the twins as they entered Myrtle's bathroom.

"Yes" the girl answered, while opening her backpack and extracting the book; after observing the humid place for a moment, the girl took one of the twins, Fred, by the arm and pulled him in front of her, only to support the book on his hands. "Here, do something useful"

"Sure, I was trained as a bookstand, no problem"

It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.

"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people.

"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," said Hermione as they scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. . . . Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn — don't know where we're going to get that — shredded skin of a boomslang — that'll be tricky, too — and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" said Ron sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it —"

Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard him. "We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last. . . ."

"Forget that," murmur George "Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? "

"Lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days" murmur Neville "how long will this take?"

"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days . . . I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."

"A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!"

"What do you think, Ace?" asked Hermione "What should we do?"

The boy had not said anything, he had simply stood at the distance just watching with crossed arms and somber eyes.

Seeing that they spoke to him, he frowned more, but there was something else in his eyes.

"Why are you asking me?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to frown; However, it was Neville who answered.

"It's always you who knows what to do"

Continuing to study Ace's expression, he seemed to have understood something, and his mind sought to study everything he had done in the past year and a few months that he had known these kids in front of him.

Until then it was he who had guided them, every disaster, every adventure, every problem, he had been, and confirming his thoughts George added.

"Every crew has a captain"

"And in this case it's you, Ace," Fred concluded.

But Ace couldn't be captain.

"I really do not think Draco is the heir," Ace said. "He may know something, maybe not, but nothing else." He paused in which he observed everyone. "If you want to continue with this, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you"

They all looked at each other for a moment, before Hermione looked back at the book, before saying, "the first part of the potion takes ingredients that we can get out of the student's cupboard."

Last year, Ace had motivated them to break rules every time, in a treasure hunt, which now rested inside Hermione's pocket, this time they wanted another adventure, and that constant request of Ace's opinion, was a way of looking for guidance, for a leader, and Ace knew where that would end. He could not assume that position, not after everything that had happened. He was not going to endanger another group.

Two months since that crazy idea had occurred to them, and it seemed that it had not stopped, the twins had a long scroll with names, each name with votes and with that they were eliminating options, it seemed that they wanted to get to the best idea before showing it to Ace.

Eventually they would surrender, but they would not end up like a pirate crew that was destined to fail, he would not put them in danger.

.-.

Ace woke up the day of the game, just to find Ginny in a hall before the tower, with a bag of cookies in hand.

"They are the first I prepare alone" the girl said in a faint murmur "I wanted you to taste how they were" she paused in which Ace took the bag "You do not have to say right now how are them ... Eh ... good luck "And she ran away.

That encouraged Ace a little, plus who can refuse cookies, and home-baked cookies. Now, if only he could understand why Ginny behaved so weird, he had seen her interact with her brothers and that was not the case.

The day did not look good, the clouds were rising high in a clear storm forecast, which instead of demotivating Wood had it quite animated.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers —"

"Too true," muttered George Weasley. "I haven't been properly dry since August"

"— and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team." Then he turned to Ace "It'll be down to you, Ace, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying"

"Sometimes I question your enthusiasm," the pirate muttered, "but, Aye, aye, Capitan."

They entered the field, the opponents with a smile knowing themselves with better equipment, although Ace was sure of the contrary, although they could have better brooms, what Wood said was true, they had practiced in different weathers. Today would be one of those days when the skill would exceed the resources, he had seen it hundreds of times, in a storm, the crew were more key than the ship.

The minute the match started, Ace climbed to the highest point of the field, looking for anything bright gold while there was still a sun to illuminate it.

"All right, Scarface?" Draco said as he sped past him.

"All right, Blondie" he did not like the comment in the least.

Draco had no time to reply. At that very moment he opened his mouth, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward Ace; the boy avoided it narrowly as it passed.

"Close one, Ace!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin.

Ace saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Ace again.

Ace dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Ace's head.

Ace put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the field. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible. . . .

Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end.

Ace ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to Ace, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Ace was forced to fly off at full speed.

It had started to rain; Ace felt heavy drops fall onto his face. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero —" The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock the pirate out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.

"Someone's — tampered — with — this — Bludger —" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Ace.

"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger. Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Ace, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.

"What's going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"

"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Ace, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone's fixed it — it won't leave Ace alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."

"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then. . . ." said Wood, anxiously.

Madam Hooch was walking toward them. Over her shoulder, Ace could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction.

"Ok, Listen," said Ace, "with you two flying around me all the time I'm never going to catch the Snitch. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."

"Don't be thick," said Fred. "It'll take your head off."

Wood was looking from Ace to the Weasleys.

"Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia Spinnet angrily. "You can't let Ace deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry —"

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Ace. "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! We are not retreating! So you two leave me alone, or what you don't think I can handle a mindless ball!"

"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood. "'Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell him —"

Madam Hooch had joined them.

"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.

Wood looked at the determined look on Ace's face.

"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Ace — leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Ace kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed; he looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. The rain didn't bother him he was used to it speckling his eyes and raining up his nostrils as he hung upside down, as he avoided another fierce dive from the Bludger. The rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as Harry could; he began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood —

A whistling in Harry's ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction. Ace was getting angry at all this.

"Problems, Portgas?" yelled Draco as Ace was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him; and then, glaring back at Malfoy, he saw it — the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear — and Malfoy, hadn't seen it.

SWISS.

He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, and he only reacted microseconds before to turn his elbow on fire, but he had had enough.

"Fred!" Ace exclaimed the nearest twin, a few meters below "your bat"

The twin did not question, he simply threw the bat, which Ace took quickly.

He had had enough and raising the bat concentrated hard, while he waved it against the Bludger that returned to him. Both arm and bat vibrated in a polished black color, which when making contact with the object made a simple CRACK, before flying at a speed essential to the ground and buried in the ground of the stadium.

He did not stop to watch what he had done, Ace threw the bat back at Fred and threw himself in Draco's direction and to the snitch.

"What the —" Draco gasped, careening out of Ace's way, as he thought Ace was attacking him.

Ace took his hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch, and there was a yell from the crowd below, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his hand, and rice his hand.

"Aha," he said vaguely. "We've won."

-.-

Ace woke up past midnight, after a big victory party, with Mecha on the back of the chair by the fire and the same chair. Someone, surely the twins, had moved him to stay in a better place.

He turned slightly in his place to adjust himself and it was then that he noticed that there was someone else besides Mecha in the room, and watched him finely from the side of the fire.

"Dobby!"

"Portgas D Ace came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Portgas D Ace. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why Portgas D Ace wasn't expelled"

"The same I would like to know," the boy murmured. "And to all this, what're you doing here?"

The creature smiled nervously, shrugging its head between its shoulders.

"Oh, well, it don't matter. You'd better get lost. I'm too tired to strangle you. "

Dobby smiled weakly. "Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home." He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Ace felt sorry for him.

"Why d'you wear that thing, Dobby?" he asked curiously.

"This, sir?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. "'Tis a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever."

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Portgas D Ace must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make —"

"Your Bludger?" said Ace, anger rising once more. "What do you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?"

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Portgas D Ace's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Portgas D Ace hurt enough to be sent home!"

"I've met a lot of twisted minds, but you get the prize," said Ace angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"

"Ah, if Portgas D Ace only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Portgas D Ace survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Portgas D Ace shone like a beacon of hope" at these point Ace wasn't paying attention "…for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sir. . . . And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Portgas D Ace stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more —"

Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed one of the many forgotten books in the common room and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the couch, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby. . . "

"You really have to stop doing that" the elf looked at him questioningly "and I mean the two things: hit yourself and be a loose mouth" and sitting better on the sofa watched Dobby "So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Ace whispered. "And - did you say it's been opened before? Hermione will really be thrilled! "He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug. "Question, Dobby, according to what I know, I'm not Muggle-born ... following this, how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"

"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Portgas D Ace must not be here when they happen — go home, Portgas D Ace, go home. Portgas D Ace must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous —"

"It's a pity Dobby, I do not have a home to return to" Ace said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's "I also have to prevent my friends from getting in trouble"