Harry and Neville entered the Room at the scheduled time. A bunch of weights were stacked on a weight rack in the middle of the room while other exercise equipment littered the room. A couple bookshelves also stood at the corners with comfortable pillows underneath them.
"Okay. You remember what we practiced in the DA and what happened in the Ministry?"
"Yeah. Thanks to what you taught us, we won."
"No. We survived. That was what I was teaching everyone last year. This year, we learn to fight. Not duel. Fight." Harry said.
"What's the difference?" Neville asked puzzled.
"Rules. There are no rules in a fight. Do whatever you can to make sure you win. But for that, you need to know what you fight for? Tell me Neville, what do you fight for?"
"Revenge." Neville said resolutely.
"A good reason. But not good enough. You need a reason to live past the fight. Fighting for revenge means you are prepared to go down in flames for your revenge. While it ensures you accomplish your objectives, that does not guarantee you will make it through the end of the war. And through this training, I want to make sure you do."
"How are we doing that?"
"Physical fitness. We train. Someone shoots a spell as us, the best way to defend against that is to not be there when the spell reaches us. We study. Knowledge is power and we need to study up on combat worthy spells. And we spar against each other. We push each other to improve and get better." Harry said resolutely.
"I don't think I can do all this Harry. Why not ask Ron or Hermione?" Neville asked nervously. His self-confidence had grown immensely after his time in the DA but it still had a long way to go.
"Because it will take a lot of hard work and the only place Ron will put in the effort is with Quidditch. Hermione is an academic at heart. She loves learning, but in the heat of the moment, she may not use the best spell in her impressive repertoire. Silencing instead of stunning Rookwood, for example. You and Ginny have the heart of a soldier that can stand in defiance of the world and face them head on." Harry said with a proud smile.
Neville blushed at that. "Why not ask Ginny then?" he asked shyly.
Harry sighed. "Because of the prophecy."
"The prophecy in the-"
"Yes."
Harry recited the prophecy and explained how it placed the two of them as the possible candidates, but Harry as the one 'chosen'. Neville's face paled as he understood what Harry was telling him. He stood dazed and seemed to sway as he stood.
"Is this why my parents were attacked?" Neville rasped.
"I don't know for sure, but most probably." Harry said looking downcast.
"Fuck that."
Harry's head shot up in astonishment as he heard Neville swear. However, instead of being apologetic for swearing, Neville's brown eyes seemed to glow with power as he squeezed his hands into fists.
"They came looking for a fight. I'm going to give them one. Train me Harry."
After their training session, the two of them splayed out onto the floor of the Room of Requirement panting deeply.
"I — Hate— You" Neville panted.
Harry laughed loudly at that, "This is just the physical fitness. We still have to duel."
"Fuck —You"
"Maybe if you buy me dinner first. Now get up and fight me."
Neville just grunted. Harry shot a pinching hex at his arm and Neville yelped.
"I will start the fight in three. If you want to go to Herbology after this, you better fight back" Harry taunted. After three duels Neville was completely spent and Harry handed him a pepper-up potion. The two began making their way towards breakfast after the steam abated and Neville's stomach loudly protested in hunger and made its demands known.
"We need more people. I can't take you on alone, Harry," Neville said.
"Who else can we trust?"
"How about Susan Bones?"
"Why her?"
"Her aunt was killed over the summer."
"Ah yes. Amelia Bones. I read about her. She seemed like a nice lady. Fair at least. She was the only one willing to hear me out at that farce of a hearing last summer."
"Yeah. Her parents were killed during the last war. Her aunt took her in. She's been really snappy and on the edge of a meltdown since term began."
"And this has nothing to do with your failed attempts to get closer to Hannah Abbott?" Harry asked with a wry grin. Neville sputtered and blushed at that. It took him a few seconds to recover before he collected his thoughts.
"My uncle Algie told me something important this summer. When it comes to girls, you need to understand the game before you play. It usually comes down to checkers or chess. Checkers is easy, direct but needs courage and bravery. Chess needs strategy but you have time on your side. I tried Checkers and failed. So, Chess it is."
"So, by helping Susan vent, you get close to her. And Susan helps you get close to Hannah?"
"Pretty much," Neville said with a shrug.
"Huh. Smart," Harry said before another thought struck him, "But what if she falls for you instead of Hannah?"
"That's what you're there for Harry," Neville said with a wry grin.
"What do you mean?"
"Why would she fall for me, when you're right there." Neville chuckled.
"You little —"
"Hi Hermione!" Neville suddenly said as the resident bookworm appeared around the corner. Harry was forced to bite down on his words as she approached and Neville cheekily waved as he headed into the Great Hall. Hermione desperately wanted to interrogate Harry about his meeting with Dumbledore, but before she could begin, Harry said, "I'm really hungry. Can we talk about this later? We won't be overheard on our way to the greenhouses."
Harry's stomach ominously decided to make his point for him by sounding like a dying whale. Hermione couldn't help but snicker as Harry rushed into the Great Hall. Ron was already there and the three boys collectively ate enough food for an entire Quidditch team between them. Harry filled in Ron and Hermione on their way to the Greenhouses.
"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," said Ron quietly, as they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed this terms project, and began pulling on their protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"
"Dunno," said Harry, inserting a gum shield. "But he says it's all important and it'll help me survive. I don't really see it but that's alright."
"I think it's fascinating," said Hermione earnestly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"
"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked her thickly through the gum shield.
"Oh, it was quite fun, really," said Hermione, now putting on protective goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous exploits a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."
"Gwenog Jones?" said Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles. "The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?"
"That's right," said Hermione. "Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but —"
"Quite enough chat over here!" said Professor Sprout briskly, bustling over and looking stern.
"You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"
They looked around; sure enough, there sat Neville with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along the side of his face, but clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit.
"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" said Ron, adding quietly, when she had turned away again, "should've used Muffliato, Harry."
"No, we shouldn't!" said Hermione at once, looking, as she always did, intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Prince and his spells. "Well, come on… we'd better get going…" She gave the other two an apprehensive look; they all took deep breaths and then dived at the gnarled stump between them.
"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I've got my own place," said Ron, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead and wiping sweat from his face.
"Pass me a bowl," said Hermione, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length; Harry handed one over and she dropped the pod into it with a look of disgust on her face.
"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when they're fresh!" called Professor Sprout.
"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing their interrupted conversation as though a lump of wood had not just attacked them, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."
Harry groaned. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, said angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"
"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione.
The pod flew out from under Ron's fingers and hit the green house glass, rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head and knocking off her old, patched hat. Harry went to retrieve the pod; when he got back, Hermione was saying, "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club' —"
"'Slug Club,'" repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —"
"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who for some reason had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"
Harry suddenly wished the pod had flown a little farther, so that he need not have been sitting here with the pair of them. Unnoticed by either, he sighed and seized the bowl that contained the pod and began to try and open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he could think of; unfortunately, he could still hear every word of their conversation.
"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice.
"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen…"
There was a pause while Harry continued to pound the resilient pod with a trowel.
"No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quiet voice.
Hermione looked flustered and immediately started fussing about for her copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World to find out the correct way to juice Snargaluff pods; Ron, on the other hand, looked sheepish but also rather pleased with himself.
"Hand that over, Harry," said Hermione hurriedly. "It says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp…"
Harry passed her the pod in the bowl; he had had an inkling that this might happen sooner or later. But he was not sure how he felt about it… He and Cho were now too embarrassed to look at each other, let alone talk to each other; what if Ron and Hermione started going out together, then split up? Could their friendship survive it? Could they stay useful during the war? And then, what if they didn't split up? It really wasn't his business, but Harry had a hunch they just might make it his business.
Although Harry watched his two friends more closely over the next few days, Ron and Hermione did not seem any different except that they were a little politer to each other than usual. Harry supposed he would just have to wait to see what happened under the influence of butterbeer in Slughorn's dimly lit room on the night of the party.
Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo's Hospital with no prospect of leaving. Which meant Ron, the new Quidditch Captain was getting angsty about the team being one Chaser and a Seeker short. The opening match against Slytherin was looming, and Ron finally had to accept that she would not be back in time to play.
After Ron's incessant chattering annoyed him, Harry cornered Dean Thomas after Transfiguration one day and asked him to take the open Chaser spot. There was much muttering in the common room about the fact that Harry had given up the Captaincy and chosen his best mate as replacement. As Harry had endured much worse mutterings than this in his school career, he was not particularly bothered, but all the same, the pressure was increasing on Ron to provide a win in the upcoming match against Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, Harry knew that the whole House would celebrate the win and forget that they had criticized him and Ron and swear that they had always believed he knew what he was doing and Ron was a great captain. If they lost however, well, Harry thought wryly, he had still endured worse mutterings…
Harry had known all along that Ron was an inconsistent player who suffered from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the looming prospect of the opening game of the season plus the added weight of the captaincy seemed to have brought out all his old insecurities. The Quidditch team would return demoralized and glaring at each other after every practice. Once even with Demelza being sent to the Hospital Wing after being accidentally punched in the mouth by Ron.
Ever since he became Captain, Ron seemed to have become, almost overnight, as touchy and ready to lash out as the average Blast-Ended Skrewt. After a shouting match with Ginny, he also started cold-shouldering Ginny and Dean who were dating, but suddenly also treating a hurt and bewildered Hermione with an icy, sneering indifference. Harry spent most of the days attempting to keep the peace between Ron and Hermione with no success.
The next morning, Harry and Neville were joined by Susan on the Seventh floor. They did not speak much until they entered the room.
"Hey Susan. How are you holding up?" Harry asked weakly.
Susan Bones was a looker. She and Lavender Brown were the earliest to mature and as a result both had enjoyed a large amount of male attention during the last couple years. This year, however, no boy dared approach Susan. Her normally vibrant red hair looked dead and flat. Her normally bubbly personality had vanished only to be replaced by an expressionless face that morphed into one of fury at the drop of a hat. Her Aunt's murder had completely changed her and it seemed she was always itching for a fight.
"Neville said you wanted to get revenge on the Death Munchers. Talk." She stated in a clipped tone. Harry chose to open the door and lead her in. Susan took a look around the room and turned around to face Harry. Neville couldn't help but gulp when she folded her hands and began tapping her foot impatiently.
"Who's on your list?" Harry asked as he made an educated guess.
"Dawlish, Travers, Avery, Mulciber and Voldemort" Susan said.
"I'm assuming Dawlish betrayed your aunt?"
"Yes. And Voldemort killed her. Travers and Mulciber killed my Uncle Edgar. Avery killed my parents."
"I'm planning on taking the fight to them. Neville, you and I are the only ones who know what it is like to want vengeance. We can't do that by learning how to transfigure a porcupine into a pincushion. I taught the DA to survive. I'm offering you a shot at revenge, but that means following my plan during the war."
"Are you the 'Chosen One' as the Prophet is claiming?"
Harry and Neville shared a look at that. Neville nodded and Harry recited the prophecy and explained it. Susan stood there clenching her jaw for a few moments.
"Fine. I'm in. On one condition."
"I want to fight you." she said staring straight at Harry.
"Done."
With a thought, a dueling platform was created and both of them climbed from opposite sides. Neville stood in the middle and gave them a countdown. Both Harry and Susan began rapidly throwing stunning spells and shields like they did in the DA. However, this time they were doing it silently and Susan took the initiative and began firing other hexes and jinxes in rapid succession. Harry instinctively reduced the size of his shield and began dancing around the spells while using his shields to deflect spells he couldn't dodge. Susan's accuracy was not very precise, but she made up for it in the sheer volume of spells she fired off.
Harry knew she would start tiring, but a magical fight was rarely about attrition. He quickly transfigured a Death Eater mask around his face and braced himself. Susan snarled and began throwing darker and darker spells as she became increasingly focused on offense. Her frustration and anger had morphed into loathing and a single-minded focus on offense. As a result, she did not notice the stunner that struck her ankle as she expected it to miss.
When Harry Rennervated her, he got unceremoniously punched in the face for his dirty trick. It took a few minutes for him to blink the tears out of his voice while Neville laughed at the suddenness of the punch. Susan was nursing her hand that was smarting when Neville said to her, "Next time, don't put the thumb inside the fist. You'll end up breaking your thumb like that."
"When did you learn how to throw a punch?" she asked him.
"When you find out Hermione Granger clocked Malfoy so hard, his nose broke, you must take notes for the future and attempt to do the same." Neville said in a solemn voice.
There was a pause before all three of them broke down laughing. This was the first time Susan could remember laughing since term started. They eventually calmed down when Harry said, "An angry mind is a narrow mind. You need to learn how to control your feelings. Have you heard about Occlumency?"
"Aunt Amy mentioned it helped with the politics that came with her office. But I never really picked it up."
"There are very few books that actually teach Occlumency. It's more of a skill passed down from master to apprentice. I have a couple books from the Black Library that can help. You should learn too, Nev. It might help with controlling the amount of power you put in spells."
"I do know a bit of Occlumency from my grandmother. But I didn't know it could be used to regulate the power of spells." Neville said
"Well, if one of my stunners had gotten past Susan's shield, she wouldn't even have noticed because I was deliberately underpowering them. The one that actually knocked her out had to be stronger than a normal spell since it was aimed at the foot and it would take much more energy to reach her brain to knock her out." Harry explained.
"How were you dancing around the spells like that?" Susan asked. Harry's dodging was starting to get on her nerves even before she saw the Death Eater mask and completely lost her cool.
"Ah that is the beauty of physical fitness. That is what Nev and I have been doing."
"And it is the worst form of torture in hell." Neville added with a scared look on his face. By the end of the time breakfast rolled around, Susan agreed with Neville's assessment and even wondered if he may be understating it.
That evening, Harry entered the common room only to see Hermione departed for bed in with a thunderous expression while Ron stalked off to the boys' dormitory after swearing angrily at several frightened first years for looking at him. To Harry's dismay, Ron's new aggression did not wear off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincided with an even deeper dip in his Keeping skills, which made him still more aggressive. Harry was tired of the escalating drama on multiple fronts and entered the common room that evening to a scene out of a painting. It was the day before Saturday's match and the last practice had just ended. Ron and Ginny were bellowing at each other while Peakes had his bat and looked ready to launch himself at Ron and the new Seeker Fay Dunbar was consoling Demelza Robbins who was bawling her eyes out.
"RON! ENOUGH!" bellowed Harry, who had seen Ginny glowering in Ron's direction and, remembering her reputation as an accomplished caster of the Bat-Bogey Hex, decided to intervene before things got even more out of hand. "Peakes, put that bat away. Fay, take Demelza to your dorm. For that matter, everyone get to bed and get some rest before tomorrow's match. Not you Ron, you and I need to talk."
He waited until the rest of the team were out of earshot before saying it, "You're my best mate, but carry on treating them like this and I'm going to McGonagall to revoke your Captaincy."
He really thought for a moment that Ron might hit him, but then something much worse happened: Ron seemed to sag into a chair; all the fight went out of him and he said, "No. I resign. I'm pathetic."
"You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" said Harry fiercely, seizing Ron by the front of his robes. "You can save anything when you're on form, it's a mental problem you've got!"
"You calling me mental?"
"Yeah, maybe I am!"
They glared at each other for a moment, then Ron shook his head wearily. "I know you have got more important things to do and don't have any time to find another Keeper, so I'll play tomorrow, but if we lose; which we will, I'm quitting not just the Captaincy but the team."
Nothing Harry said made any difference. He tried boosting Ron's confidence all through dinner, but Ron was too busy being grumpy and surly with Hermione to notice. Harry persisted in the common room that evening, but his assertion that the whole team would be devastated if Ron left was somewhat undermined by the fact that the rest of the team was sitting in a huddle in a distant corner, clearly muttering about Ron and casting him nasty looks. Ron went to bed as dejected and hopeless as ever.
It was the morning of the Quidditch match and Harry was busy scarfing down a big breakfast. His new exercise regimen had increased his appetite by a huge margin. Breakfast was the usual excitable affair that morning; the Slytherins hissed and booed loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall. Harry glanced at the ceiling and saw a clear, pale blue sky: a good omen.
The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheered as the team approached. Ron grimaced weakly and shook his head.
"Cheer up, Ron!" called Lavender. "I know you'll be brilliant!"
Ron ignored her.
"Tea?" Harry asked him. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"
"Anything," said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast.
A few minutes later Hermione, who had become so tired of Ron's recent unpleasant behavior that she had not come down to breakfast with them, paused on her way up the table.
"How are you feeling?" she asked tentatively, her eyes on the back of Ron's head.
"He's fine," said Harry, who was concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice.
"There you go, Ron. Drink up."
Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply.
"Don't drink that, Ron!"
Both Harry and Ron looked up at her.
"Why not?" said Ron.
Hermione was now staring at Harry as though she could not believe her eyes.
"You just put something in that drink."
"Excuse me?" said Harry.
"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket.
"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said again, alarmed, but Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one gulp, and said, "Stop bossing me around, Hermione."
She looked scandalized. Bending low so that only Harry could hear her, she hissed, "You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!"
"Look who's talking," he whispered back with an arched brow. "Confunded anyone lately?"
She stormed up the table away from them. Harry watched her go with a little regret. He needed his plan to work and some deception was necessary. He then looked around at Ron, who was smacking his lips.
"Nearly time!' said Harry blithely.
The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode down to the stadium.
"Pretty lucky the weathers this good, eh?" Harry asked Ron.
"Yeah," said Ron, who was still pale and sick-looking. He gave him a pat on the back and walked to the stands. He found Neville waving a Gryffindor flag and joined him on the bench.
"Hey Harry. Conditions look ideal," said Neville. "And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even better than that — Malfoy's gone off sick too!"
"What?" said Harry, whipped his head around to stare at him. "He's ill? What's wrong with him?"
"No idea, but it's great for us," said Neville brightly.
Harry smiled back vaguely, but as he pulled on his scarlet robes his mind was far from Quidditch. Malfoy had once before claimed he could not play due to injury, but on that occasion, he had made sure the whole match was rescheduled for a time that suited the Slytherins better. Why was he now happy to let a substitute go on? Was he really ill, or was he faking? "Fishy, isn't it?" he said in an undertone to Neville. "Malfoy not playing?"
The team walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: midst all the yelling and clapping Harry could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat.
The whistle sounded, the teams kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away. Then a voice that was jarringly different to the usual commentator's started up. "Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. It was a shock when he unceremoniously resigned as captain and Weasley as his replacement has been doing a shoddy job. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team entirely, but of course, a close personal friendship with the former Captain does help…"
These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Harry craned around to look toward the commentator's podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan's; Harry recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom he heartily disliked.
"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart streaking down the pitch and —"
Harry's stomach turned over. "— Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose…"
"That's right, Smith, he is," muttered Harry, grinning to himself. With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were leading sixty points to zero, Ron having made some truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of his gloves, and Ginny having scored four of Gryffindor's six goals. This effectively stopped Zacharias wondering loudly whether the two Weasleys were only there because Harry liked them, and he started on Peakes and Coote instead.
"Of course, Coote isn't really the usual build for a Beater," said Zacharias loftily, "they've generally got a bit more muscle —"
"Hit a Bludger at him!" Harry called to Coote as he zoomed past. Coote, grinning broadly, chose to aim the next Bludger at Harper, the Slytherin Seeker instead, who was just passing Fay Dunbar, the Gryffindor Seeker in the opposite direction. Harry was pleased to hear the dull thunk that meant the Bludger had found its mark. It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again, they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favorite "Weasley Is Our King," he pretended to conduct them from on high.
"And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch!" said Zacharias Smith through his megaphone. "Dunbar follows closely behind"
"It's neck and neck people. And Harper fumbles! Dunbar swipes and YES SHE HAS IT. Dunbar has caught the Snitch!"
"YES!" Hairy yelled. As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.
The crowd shrieked and laughed, as Ginny flew into the Commentary box and collided with Smith. The Gryffindor team landed beside the wreckage of wood under which Zacharias was feebly stirring; Harry rushed down just in time to hear Ginny saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall, "Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry."
Laughing, he clapped cheering Ron on the back instead as, all enmity forgotten from the last night, the Gryffindor team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters. The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant. "Party up in the common room, Seamus said!" yelled Dean exuberantly. "C'mon, Ginny, Demelza!"
Ron was the last out of the changing room. They were just about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined. "I want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, its illegal."
"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron.
"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry, hiding his face under his hat so that neither of them would see him grinning, "You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"
"No, I didn't," said Harry, turning back to face them both with a smirk reminiscent of his father's.
"Yes, you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"
"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, grinning broadly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself." He pocketed the potion again.
"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said, astounded. "But the weather's good… and Vaisey couldn't play… I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"
Harry shook his head. Ron gaped at him for a moment, then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"
"I never said you couldn't — Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!"
But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his broomstick over his shoulder.
"Er," said Harry into the sudden silence; he had not expected his plan to backfire like this, "shall… shall we go up to the party, then?"
"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done…"
And she stormed out of the changing room too.
Harry walked slowly back up the grounds toward the castle through the crowd. He had been sure that if Ron won the match, he and Hermione would be friends again immediately. He did not see how he could possibly explain to Hermione that what she had done to offend Ron was kiss Viktor Krum, not when the offense had occurred so long ago. Harry could not see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which was in full swing when he arrived. He dodged Romilda Vane, who was hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him and headed to the drinks table. He almost walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.
"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."
Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.
"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow." She patted him on the arm and left. Harry felt a faint nausea set in as he looked at Ron and Lavender grabbing at each other. Ginny walked off to help herself to more butterbeer. Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.
Harry turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon with a grimace, just as the portrait hole was closing. With a sinking feeling, he thought he saw a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight.
He darted forward, sidestepped Romilda Vane again, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside, seemed to be deserted.
"Hermione?"
He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. Harry could not help admiring her spell-work at a time like this.
"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."
"Yeah… they're — er — really good…" said Harry.
He had no idea what to say to her. He was just wondering whether there was any chance that she had not noticed Ron, that she had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when she said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."
"Er… is he?" said Harry.
"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was —?"
The door behind them burst open. To Harry's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.
"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.
"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her.
There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron, who refused to look at her, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"
Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system. "You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."
She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.
"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway.
Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.
"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed. Harry sighed and drew his wand and banished the birds before he said to Ron, "Go have fun with Lavender. I'll handle Hermione"
He opened the door and chased after Hermione. It took him a few minutes but he followed his gut feeling and chose a classroom at random. He took a quick look inside and was about to close the door when he heard a sob. He bent down when he saw Hermione curled up in a ball under a table. He quietly closed the door and sat down next to her on the floor. He silently cast a warming charm around them and didn't say anything. Hermione reached out and held onto his arm as she cried her heart out.
