Chapter Nineteen
Quidditch and Orders
As second term rolled back in, students began reappearing at Hogwarts, apprehensively glancing at the Dementors that seemed to glare at them as they passed. Professor Dumbledore hadn't approved of the Dementors once more, yet Cornelius Fudge had insisted upon it as an extra precaution.
That was how Professor Tallow had put it, anyway, when Harry had asked if Dumbledore had been angry with Dementors everywhere. Tallow had reappeared amidst the students as well, seeming tired and strained; his usual boyish face was beginning to appear much older, and flecks of gray began spotting his hair. Defense Against the Dark Arts had, coincidentally, been the Gryffindors' first class back on Monday of the second term.
"Please put your books aside and draw out your wands," said the professor as everyone got settled. "You won't be needing them today. We will be studying elves today. No—not house elves as you are accustomed to, but true elves, like in Muggle fantasy works. Now," he said quietly, pacing back and forth in front of the classroom, "have any of you ever seen an elf in person?"
There was silence, and not a single hand raised as the professor surveyed them.
"I didn't think so," he said with a grin, "and would have been very surprised if one of you had seen one, as they have been extinct for quite some time. Er—actually, you may not need your wand, really, because I'm just going to lecture you for a while. You may take notes," he added, seeing Hermione's hand raise.
Harry's mind drifted back to the time he had first met Tallow in the Alps, and how the man had been able to tell him, Hermione, and the Weasleys their names without asking or using any other information. He realized it had been quite a while since Tallow had read any of their minds.
"What does an elf look like?" Tallow asked, still pacing, now with his hands behind his back. Hermione's hand shot up. "Miss Granger?"
"Please, sir, an elf stands at about four feet tall," said Hermione, "with pointy ears and sharp eyes that can see great distances."
"Very good, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor," said Professor Tallow, his pacing coming to an abrupt end. Hermione's chest swelled with pride. "Now, can anyone tell me why the elves are extinct?"
Hermione's hand darted up once more, but the professor's gaze was drifting to the others in the room.
"You're correct, Miss Brown, if you would be so kind to tell the rest of the class your thoughts," said Tallow with another small grin. Lavender, though appearing quite taken aback at Tallow's abruptness, cleared her throat slightly.
"Er—the elves were enemies of the gnomes," she said, "and the gnomes constantly attacked them, until they finally managed to destroy them completely."
"Yes," said Tallow sharply, stirring Ron from his sleepy daze. There was a small puddle of drool next to his books. Hermione's nose scrunched up as Ron wiped away and Harry glared at him. "Does anyone know who the king of the elves was before that time, when the Erklings attacked and were defeated?"
Not even Hermione raised her hand this time. Professor Tallow's gaze drifted from person to person, obviously reading their thoughts. As he finished, he peered at them steadily.
"Has no one heard of Oriole Gryffindor?" he asked after a moment. Hermione's eyes widened, as did Harry's, Ron's, and the others'. Hermione raised her hand slowly, shakily, to the air. "Miss Granger?"
"Oriole Gryffindor was an elf?" she asked in a small voice, clearly rather startled at the information.
"Yes," said Tallow. "Though not many people knew it. Oriole was as tall as any wizard, and as the elves were a bit of a hidden race, at least from Muggles and certain wizarding communities, so he passed himself off as a wizard and browsed through cities just as any other wizard would."
Harry raised his hand quickly when the professor briefly paused. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"Was Oriole Gryffindor related to Godric Gryffindor?" he asked, his brows furrowed.
"Yes, as a matter of fact he was, which is why he was so tall. Godric was well over six feet tall, so when his son married an elf, the size of their children was tall, though each of them were half-elf. Godric was proud of his son and grandsons, and they therefore became royalty amid the elves. Oriole was the only member of the Gryffindor family that chose to remain with the elves. He rose quickly in the political ranks, and soon became king. He brought the elves through many hardships before he was murdered by the gnome Aristal. Aristal Slytherin was what the gnome went by. No, he was of no relation to Salazar."
There was a moment's silence before Tallow took a deep breath and continued, "Oriole had three children, two boys and a girl. The boy who became prince was named Orrin Gryffindor, and he was excellent with charms. He interpreted his phoenix's Order himself, but we'll get into that in a moment. The Elven fortress on Orkney Island, just northeast of Scotland, was under siege by the gnomes when Orrin took over command from his father, and he fought with a ferocity of people who wanted their freedom. One night, the gnomes attacked and the western walls fell. Orrin and his family, which consisted of two boys and a girl, were in the eastern wing when Fawkes gave his Order.
"Fawkes told of a fate worse than death of the elves if they fought on, if they used their secret, most powerful weapon against the gnomes. Fawkes said that every elf would die unless Orrin sacrificed all but one member of his family; that member of the family would be the only living elf. He chose to save his daughter Oriel, and sent her away to Britain. She married and had three children, and each of her descendants had three children; two boys and a girl."
He stopped here, carefully peering at the class as his pacing stopped.
"Questions?" Tallow said.
Slowly, Harry's hand rose.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" inquired Professor Tallow, giving Harry a curiously stern look.
"Are there any…known descendants of Oriel Gryffindor?" Harry asked carefully.
"A few," said Professor Tallow evasively. "Though only Oriel's maiden name was Gryffindor, not her married name. Any more questions?"
Harry's hand slowly rose again.
"Mr. Potter," said Tallow.
"When you say Fawkes, you don't mean Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, do you?" Harry asked.
"Actually, yes, Fawkes is the last phoenix to have given a prediction. The next one will occur in several years." Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Tallow held them back a moment. "A foot long piece of parchment about Orrin Gryffindor's sacrifice for his daughter. Due next Monday. Have a good day."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered their things and quickly left the classroom, hearing Tallow sigh softly after them. They walked through the corridors, Ron digging into his pack for schedules.
"Potions next," he said grimly, "with Slytherins."
"Why does Dumbledore always put us with the Slytherins?" Harry asked savagely.
"Maybe he thinks if he forces us together, we'll eventually work together appropriately," said Ron, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. They rounded a corner and found themselves face-to-face with the potions master himself.
Professor Snape only gave them a passing glance as he brushed by, muttering under his breath.
"Well," said Hermione. "I wonder why Professor Tallow seemed so…"
"Put out?" Ron offered. Hermione nodded.
"Yes, that's it," she said. "I wonder where he was during Christmas break?"
"God only knows," Ron muttered. "Chocolate Frogs," he said to the Fat Lady. The portrait hole swung open, admitting them into the common room. "Er—by the way, why are we going to the common room?"
Neither Harry or Hermione said anything for a moment, then, simultaneously, the trio sighed and began talking at once.
"I don't know—"
"Good question—"
"Let's go to potions—"
So they set off for potions quickly, knowing most likely they would be late. As they neared the cold, dark dungeons, Harry heard voices drifting down from some other room. He motioned for Ron and Hermione to fall silent; Harry pressed his body against the wall and listened intently to the voices, one unmistakably belonging to Professor Snape himself.
"He's growing stronger, Severus, you can't deny that—"
"What good would it do to go back now? You betrayed a good many Death Eaters, Tallow, they won't just welcome you with open arms," said Snape's icy voice.
"There's nothing we can do to stop him—he won't stop until he gets Potter, and if we just gave him to Voldemort, it would all be over—"
"—and you would be safe, right? This isn't about our own safety, and you should well know it. You were a spy for Voldemort; you know the risks taken to save people."
"The Stone of Oriole hasn't been seen for five hundred years, Severus!" Tallow said in an exasperated voice. "How would we ever find it?!"
"Lyra knows the way," said Snape. "She'll guide Potter and his company to the stone."
"It's too risky, Severus!" exclaimed the other voice, obviously Professor Tallow's. "Potter's the only one that can touch the stone—what if he's murdered? The whole company would be lost senselessly."
"They would not be lost senselessly; they would be lost fighting for what was right, not betraying their fellow countrymen and joining Voldemort. Lyra will find a way, even if under the misfortune Potter does die."
"I thought Lyra was Sirius Black's girlfriend, that you hated her as much as James and the other Marauders."
"It's time to put aside differences, Dol, or you won't make it far at all in this world on our side. You can go ahead and desert us, but I guarantee you'll see your death before you so much as get ten feet into the archipelago, let alone to Faeroe."
Footsteps followed, and the trio scattered before Snape walked out and found them, stopping only when they reached potions' class, a good five minutes after the bell rang. Everyone was chatting idly before Snape appeared, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione leaned in close to each other.
"Did Snape just stand up for us?" Harry asked, knowing that each of his friends were thinking the exact same thing.
"Ginny—we've got to talk," said Harry as he poured over books in the library, Ginny sitting across from him. Professor McGonagall had reminded them of the O.W.L.'s, which even Hermione had been neglecting to study for. In a frenzy, Hermione had rushed Harry and Ron to the library, and they had been studying ever since Tuesday—it was now Friday.
"What about Harry?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes widening slightly. "And what are three ways to identify a werewolf?"
"Er—snout size…fur color, and…" Harry trailed, off, looking imploringly to Ginny, who gave him a weary look and sighed.
"Eyes," she said. "Werewolves have pointy eyes, and normal wolves have larger ones."
"Er—right. It's Professor Tallow. Something's wrong with him."
"What? I always liked him. What's an Urdai's main attack?"
"Sharp claws and speed."
"Right."
"He was a Death Eater, we think. Malfoy told him in front of me one day to watch out, and that not many people knew what Tallow used to be."
"But Dumbledore would've known, wouldn't he have? He trusts Snape, and Snape was a Death Eater."
"Yes, but Snape rejoined before Voldemort fell."
"Give me the definition of a Reaper."
"Tall thing with a black cloak, red, glowing eyes, and a scythe. Attacks at night, and can kill even without the scythe. Rumors of their appearance in England have been confirmed by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ginny and Ron Weasley."
"Very good."
"Thank you."
"But we don't know when Tallow rejoined our side, or even if he did. Maybe he's still spying. The incantation for the Summoning Charm."
"Accio. He had to've rejoined, Gin, 'cause no one didn't rejoin when Voldemort fell."
"Good. Maybe he hid for a while. He said he lived in America during winter seasons to play hockey."
"Hockey?" Harry asked suddenly. "I bet Kirk would've heard of him if he's a major name in hockey." He thought about it a moment longer, then rose from his chair. "I'm going to go ask him."
"What about studying?" Ginny chastised, though she rose as well.
Harry shrugged. "One more question, then."
"Never mind, we can go now," sighed the younger girl, moving so that she was standing next to Harry. Harry raised his eyebrows.
"'We'?" he said, concealing a grin. "What's that about?"
"I'm not letting you do this alone," said Ginny, giving him a dazzling smile through the red curls that framed her childish face. "I'm going," she stated firmly, then started off for the exit of the library.
Harry grinned after her, his mind in a sort of daze. What have I gotten myself into? he wondered silently, then decided it was rhetorical and chose to take the simpler path of following Ginny.
"How are we going to go about asking him?" Harry called after her as he hurried down the corridors.
He saw Ginny give a small shrug from up ahead.
"The truth seems appealing," she said, glancing back at him long enough to smile.
"So what d'we say? 'Hey, Kirk! Just wondering if you've ever heard of Dol Tallow the hockey player? Only we think he's a Death Eater that's been hiding from everyone over here for a while.' I don't think that's quite appropriate for his young ears."
"Kirk's been through a lot, too, I'd say."
"How so? He lives in Canada. Voldemort wasn't a major influence over there."
"He was in America."
"America's different. Everything we do influences America."
"We never fought for independence."
"Which is why they won the war—we weren't experienced with rebellions."
"Either that, or no wizards were involved."
"Good point. Chocolate Frogs."
The portrait hole swung open and Harry climbed briskly through, offering Ginny his hand as she climbed in. They found Kirk almost instantly; he was in the common room with his trumpet, honking short, staccato peals and terrorizing the others, who were trying desperately to study, and Harry could see by the number of people there that a good many had already left.
"Kirk, shaddup for a minute, please," greeted Harry through gritted teeth. Kirk mocked a sad face, pulling his trumpet down and holding it in front of his stomach.
"All right," he said. "But only for a minute," he added quickly.
"Good then," said Ginny.
"Have you ever heard of Dol Tallow—wait, what am I saying?" Harry muttered. "Is Professor Tallow a hockey player in America?"
Kirk put on a thoughtful face for a moment, as though going through names.
"Er—not to my humble knowledge of hockey," he said. "Unless I'm greatly mistaken, however, his dad was. Same name, too. Dol Tallow. Long time ago, and only in the wizarding hockey leagues."
"Thanks Kirk, that's just what we needed to know," said Ginny with a satisfied grin.
"You can go off and torture fifth years now," said Harry when Kirk said nothing. Kirk grinned, then darted off happily, and Harry and Ginny heard the Fat Lady shouting after him for a good five minutes. "He wasn't a hockey player then."
"Unless Kirk was wrong," said Ginny doubtfully.
"No, I doubt Kirk was wrong," said Harry with a grim expression. "He's always right when it comes to hockey."
"You're sure?" Ginny pressed gently, curiously.
"Positive."
"Then Professor Tallow may well be a traitor."
The words hung in the stillness of the common room, and even the fire, though bright as ever, forgot to crackle for a moment, as if the realization of the truth had just hit them. Harry and Ginny faced each other, standing, quietly.
"What now?" Ginny asked softly, and the sounds returned, restored fully and like they had never been missing.
"We watch him," said Harry after a moment. "If he's a traitor, he'll do something suspicious. The way he was talking to Snape, I'd would've been willing to bet he'd have gone back to Voldemort the next day."
"What?" Ginny asked, confusion appearing visibly on her face.
"Er—we sort of over heard Professor Tallow and Snape talking on Monday, and it sounded to us like Tallow was about to crawl back to Voldemort with me on a silver platter."
Ginny's eyes widened quite a bit, then she gasped quickly.
"If he is a traitor, then you're right—he'll do something," she said. "I say you're right again, in the thought that we should watch him."
"Good," said Harry with a slight smile. "We'll tell Ron and Hermi about what we're doing, of course."
"Of course," said Ginny curtly, a smile now appearing upon her face. There was something about her that was different suddenly, Harry realized, something that made her look more like a girl than just Ron's sister. I can't fall in love with Ginny Weasley! Harry screamed to himself silently. Ron would never forgive me! I can't, I can't, I can't!
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, interrupting his thoughts.
"Er—yes," he said quickly. "I'd better go practice my—"
"Quidditch, Harry!" called a new voice exuberantly from the portrait hole. Fred was rushing towards them, grinning from ear to ear. "Our next Quidditch match is the twenty-fourth!"
"I hope you mean of February," said Harry in a flat tone.
"Of course not! I mean in two weeks!" Fred said, continuing to practically bounce up and down. "And we got new brooms for the team! Except for you, Harry, unless you want one—we got a couple extras in case any of 'em broke. Thanks, thanks, thanks!"
"For what?" Harry asked, quite taken aback at Fred's outbursts.
"For your favor at the end of the year last year!" he said happily. "It's lasted until just now, when we used up the last of it for broomsticks!"
Harry permitted himself a grin at this, the thoughts of the Triwizard Tournament no longer shattering his insides with cold.
"Great!" he said. "When's practice start?"
"Now!" said Fred. "C'mon, the weather's getting snowy so we need to train for it in case Ravenclaw's better than we expect. I sent Kirk to scout 'em."
"Just let me grab my—"
"Your Firebolt's in the broomshed, Harry, waiting for you patiently," Fred interrupted. "Now c'mon! It's off to the pitch!"
Ginny gave Harry a sympathetic look as he was dragged away by Fred towards the portrait hole. "I know you've got to study for O.W.L.'s," Fred said as they exited the common room, "but this is more important, I think."
"Don't you and George have N.E.W.T.'s this year?" Harry asked.
"Well…yes, but we know enough to pass them sufficiently," spewed Fred quickly. "That's what we told Mum, anyhow. Didn't seem to like the idea of our being Quidditch captains, 'cause of all the"—and he put on a high voice that was unmistakably a mock of Mrs. Weasley's—"'hours you'll be wasting practicing when you could be getting valuable study in.'" Fred returned to his normal voice. "We assured her that we're studying quite enough, and it seemed to ease her overactive studying lectures."
Harry laughed a bit as they walked past several Dementors at the entrance hall, one's gaze drifting after the two Gryffindors until they were out of sight.
"Those things give me the creeps," said Fred with a slight shudder. "George and me tried to pull a prank on one of 'em in third year. Tried to drop some Dungbombs on it so it'd clear out of the way, but it got a little—er—unreasonable with us and reported us to Dumbledore. He gave us a stern lecture and detention for two days. Not our best, by far, but still—two days for a harmless little prank."
Harry raised his eyebrows. He doubted if dropping Dungbombs on a Dementor would be considered harmless, though he didn't press the matter as they reached the pitch. There was a light dusting of snow surrounding the area, though the pitch itself was totally snow-free. The sun shone brightly through the trees of the Forbidden Forest, making the remaining snow glisten in the light and seem brighter than Harry would have thought possible; for a moment he had to shield his eyes so that they would adjust to the brightness.
"George and me cleaned it off this morning," said Fred proudly.
"How?" Harry asked in wonder.
"Well—we have window seats during Divination, our morning subject, so we sat there, summoning the snow with Summoning Charms the whole period—we couldn't see it, but we knew it was there. Professor Trelawney got a bit confused, though; couldn't figure out why there was so much snow in her window. She predicted me and George's death by an avalanche, so we probably just got her started on a new revelation."
"Good day, Harry!" called George, emerging from the locker rooms with a broomstick slung across his shoulder easily.
"About time you two slackers got here," said Kirk in mock offense, following George out towards the pitch. "Don't yeh know we've got a Quidditch Cup to win?!"
Harry grinned as Angelina appeared as well, tossing his Firebolt to him. Katie and Alicia walked out moments later, grinning in a fashion much like Fred and George.
"All right, boys and girls," said George seriously as the team gathered in a small circle in the middle of the pitch. "First, we have Kirk to give us the latest information on the team." He turned to the young boy. "If you would be so kind, Kirk?"
Kirk stepped to where Fred and George had been standing, putting on his best fake smile and failing miserably.
"Well, there's good news…" he started, and the team's grins broadened, "then there's bad news. Uh-huh. First the good news! Er—actually…there, um, isn't any good news. But there's always bad news! Firstly, every Ravenclaw player rides a Peregrine Two Thousand, a very, very fast broomstick that's brand new. It can turn corners very quickly, at speeds reaching…er…thirty-three miles per hour. Bad. Next, even without the broomsticks, Ravenclaw's fast as living heck. Every move they make is fast. Cho Chang obviously went for speed rather than anything else, and she's accomplished quite a bit."
A grim silence fell upon the ashen-faced Gryffindor team. Fred and George looked apprehensively to their team.
"Thanks, Kirk," said Fred, and Kirk bowed himself out of the way.
"Speed," said George with an intensity matched only by the fierce look in his face. "We have to train for speed."
"If we train for speed we can beat them at their own game," said Fred, an expression much like George's plastered across his face.
"But how?" Katie asked, frowning slightly. Everyone turned to her. She went on slowly, "If they've got Peregrine Two Thousands, they're out of our league."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the Gryffindor team, until George angrily silenced them.
"No one, but no one," he said, "is out of our league."
"We have new broomsticks, too," said Fred, a grin flashing briefly across his face. "Presenting, to your delight, I'm sure, our new Penguins."
He reached behind them and pulled out a small trolley Harry knew hadn't been there earlier, which was carrying ten beautifully made broomsticks; the handles of each read Penguin, and the bristles at the end had a golden glint in the sunlight. As though sensing the presence of their to-be owners, each broomstick, minus four, snapped towards each member of the team except for Harry. The team's eyes widened in delight, as Fred had said.
"They're yours until we leave, then Harry's going to control their usage," said George as each Gryffindor climbed aboard a Penguin.
"We got 'em for a real cheap price," Fred muttered to Harry, "otherwise we wouldn't have been able to buy everyone a broomstick. They're guaranteed to work perfectly, though, or we get our two hundred Galleons back."
"They were only two hundred Galleons altogether?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Well…we promised the owner of the shop we bought 'em from a discount at our joke shop…for life," said Fred with another grin. "And that five percent of our profit would go towards paying him off until they're paid for."
"So you're in debt already," said Harry in an amused tone. "Can't wait to see what's happened to you and George in ten years."
Fred grinned as the rest of the team rose from the ground.
"Oh, we'll manage," he said easily, then climbed on his broomstick and flew away, cackling after himself.
Harry watched the team fly around a moment more before joining them. They had been flying for several minutes before Fred flew back to the ground.
"I think you're used to the Penguins by now, so I'm going to throw the Quaffle up and release the Snitch," he shouted up to the others. Harry circled the area directly above Fred's head as a flash of scarlet bolted through the sky towards Angelina, who smiled sweetly at Fred before darting off; next came the smallest of flashes of gold as the Golden Snitch fluttered away from everyone at a very fast speed.
Fred then released both Bludgers, grabbed his club, and kicked off, joining the rest of the team. Harry glanced around for any sign of gold, and, upon seeing none, decided this was going to be a long day…a very long day, indeed….
Wearily, the Gryffindor team collapsed to the ground after seven furious hours of solid practice. Harry thought he had never felt so hot in January as he did now. Snow was toppling gently from the sky, and an otherwise harsh breeze was blowing; to the team, however, it felt like their first meal after being lost in a desert for seven hours.
Even Fred and George seemed rather tired.
"Well, we ought to be quick enough now," said Fred, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Practice next week, same time," said George.
"To the showers," the twins said together, then trudged off immediately towards the locker rooms.
Angelina, Katie, and Alicia headed for the common room, Kirk gleefully tagging along after them. Harry crawled over to the stadium seats and laid down on them with a sigh. The full moon shined down on him, and dotting the sky were dozens of stars, winking down at him as cold settled over him. Somewhere out there, Remus is roaming the countryside as a werewolf. Somewhere, Sirius is fighting against Voldemort.
"And somewhere, Voldemort is gaining more and more power, ever so slightly," he heard himself utter aloud. Giving a quick glance around to make sure no one had overheard his reverie, he sat up, his neck popping slightly as he did.
"Harry?" came a soft, quiet voice from behind him. Harry whirled around to see Ginny standing there in midnight blue robes, her red hair sparkling. Gaining enough control to keep his mouth from hanging open, Harry swallowed hard. Damn, she's beautiful in the moonlight, he thought dreamily. Snap out of it, old boy! Gain control of yourself before you do something you shouldn't!
"Yes?" Harry said, his voice sounding strangely high to him.
"Good, it's just you," Ginny muttered, half to herself. However, she gave him another of her dazzling smiles and approached him as a cat stalking its prey would. Harry gulped again. Ginny came to a stop very close to him, then plopped down next to his back, barely more than an inch from him.
"Er—you…need to talk?" Harry managed to squeak out. God, I'm falling in love with Ginny Weasley. God, I just admitted it. This is going to be a long second term. He positioned himself awkwardly so that he could see her face, and gave her a sideways glance.
"Yes," said Ginny, staring out towards the center of the pitch.
Silence followed her answer, interrupted only by Harry's cautious voice.
"What about?"
Another moment's silence passed as hesitation flashed across the girl's face. She seemed to shake herself inwardly before replying in a couture voice, "Everything and nothing." Ginny gave a quiet laugh before turning serious once more. "First, Tallow's made his move again, it looks like; he disappeared today, and when I asked Professor McGonagall where he'd gone to, she frowned and acted like she didn't know he had left at all. Which leads me to think…"
"…that he's run back to Voldemort," Harry finished for her, watching her intensely.
Ginny nodded affirmatively.
"If he stays gone too long, then I'm almost positive that's where he's gone to," she explained. "Hermione seems to be thinking on the same lines as us, because she had already been watching Tallow. She said that she'd found it odd he'd left for Christmas break when Dumbledore hadn't mentioned his name after…after the third task."
"What d'you think? He doesn't seem to be the traitorous kind," Harry frowned, his brow furrowed.
"Neither did everyone's favorite Auror," sighed Ginny sardonically.
"That wasn't Moody, though; I'm pretty sure that Tallow's just who he says he is—Dol Tallow."
"Well, you do have a point. I doubt if they'd use the same trick twice."
The legend, whispered a voice from the back of Harry's head. What legend?
"How could you take on someone else's appearance if you're not using Poly-Juice Potion, though?"
Urdai.
"There's no other potion, is there?" Ginny went on, her eyebrows now knitting together.
Urdai, Urdai. Urdai.
Barely audibly came the whispered word in Harry's mind, and his eyes widened a bit. He can't be an Urdai. How could he have been Ginny that one day? What about Dumbledore?
Remember the legend. The legend. The legend of the Urdai. Think.
"Harry?" Ginny snapped her fingers in front of his face, sharply bringing reality back to him. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," said Harry after a moment. "Yeah," he repeated, this time with conviction. "Just thinking. We'll keep watching him and see if he makes any more moves."
Ginny nodded.
"And what was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?" Harry said, turning back to face his legs' direction.
"Er…just…I wanted to say…erm…" Ginny spluttered.
Harry glanced back at her curiously.
"Anything wrong?" he asked, giving her a sideways look.
Ginny shook her head.
"No," she said quickly. "The other thing wasn't important. Just be careful from now on, Harry."
She kissed him swiftly on the cheek before disappearing in the swish of her midnight blue robes, only pausing to give Harry a dazzling smile. Harry stared after her. Well, he thought ruefully, today was very…er…eventful. Yes, that's the perfect word for it. He rose, draped his broom across his shoulder, and walked to the castle, his mind wondering. He settled into his four-poster and pulled the sheets tightly across his head, willing the sun to keep away.
***
"Harry! WAKE UP!"
Harry groaned and shifted on his bed.
"What'sammater?" he muttered, lowering the sheets from his eyes just enough to see Ron standing above his four-poster, an impatient expression on his face.
"It's twelve o'clock," he heard Ron say in exasperation.
"So?" Harry shot back. "It's Saturday, isn't it?"
There was a moment's silence, broken only by Ron's soft cursing.
"Damn. I knew I forgot something."
"Ron—go back to sleep, please."
There was silence again, then the creaking of a bed as Ron clambered into his four-poster. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, then pulled the covers back over his head and attempted to fall asleep again.
"All students please report to the Great Hall," boomed a loud voice just as Harry was near asleep. "Immediately."
"Well," Ron muttered crossly as he rose, "that nap didn't last long, did it?"
"Nope," said Harry. "Guess we ought to get down to the Great Hall."
"I suppose so."
Neither moved for a moment.
"Yep," said Ron, stretching, "we ought to leave just anytime now…anytime…."
"Mmm-hmm," Harry muttered. "G'night, Ron."
"'Night, Harry."
Both boys were sleep seconds later.
"RONALD WEASLEY!" shrieked a feminine voice, stirring Harry slightly. "HAROLD JAMES POTTER!"
Harry snapped up at the mention of his name frowning. Why's everything so dark?
Something grabbed the covers of his four-poster and angrily threw them off of his head. Oh. Hermione stood above his four-poster, a furious expression on her face.
"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Just exactly where were you two dunderheads during Professor Dumbledore's speech to us?" Hermione demanded.
Harry looked away sheepishly.
"Erm…enjoying the luxuries of our four-posters?" Ron mumbled from behind him. Harry stifled a laugh.
"Oh, and I suppose you think it's really funny that you missed it, eh?" snapped Hermione. "What if I choose not to tell you everything Dumbledore told us? Bet you wouldn't think it was so funny then, would you?"
Harry was so taken aback at the girl's fury that he turned and looked at her. She wasn't focusing on him, however; her gaze was directly pointed to Ron, whose facial color matched his hair's.
"Aw, 'Mione," Ron whimpered with a touch of sarcasm, "you wouldn't do that to us, would you?"
He gave her a sad-puppy look. Hermione gave a small, indignant sniff.
"I suppose you're right," she said with a sigh.
"So, what'd he say?" Harry asked curiously. "And how come he didn't notice that we weren't there? I figured Dumbledore'd see everyone."
"I think he noticed, Harry," said Hermione coolly. "But that's not important. He told us that they found…" She trailed off, her anger now replaced by a softened expression as though she'd just remembered something terrible. "That they found…Seamus Finnigin's body," she said squeakily. "He's…dead…."
Ron paled instantly. Harry's face clouded, a worried expression flashing across it.
"How?" he asked. "When, and where?"
Hermione took a deep breath before replying rather tensely, "He was murdered in the castle at the beginning of the year."
"He can't've been, though," Ron interrupted. "He's been here since then."
"You only thought that Seamus, Ron," said Hermione impatiently. "Don't you remember the lesson about Urdai?"
Urdai, Urdai. Harry's mind clouded as well. It was an Urdai. Seamus wasn't Seamus. Seamus was an Urdai. Then what about Tallow? Couldn't Tallow be the same one if they found Seamus's body? Hermione continued her explanation, but her words never quite made it through to Harry's brain. Something's going on here. How could an Urdai get in? Hogwarts is basically impossible to enter. It can't be true…. Something's not right. There had to be an insider. Someone had to be helping before Seamus. Who, though? Tallow, he's the only one. What about Snape? No, Dumbledore trusts him. It can't be Snape. It had to be—
"It wasn't any of our professors, Harry," Hermione said, correctly depicting his expression. He frowned at her.
"Then how did an Urdai get inside the castle if not with the help of someone already inside?" he asked, his voice low.
"Because Urdai have special powers that we can only dream of," said a calm voice from the doorway. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all started, then turned to face the figure standing there. Seamus Finnigin's casual frame leaned against the door. A wand was in his hand, and there was a small clicking noise. They were locked in.
"Seamus," said Harry, a ferocity in his voice that caused the other to flinch noticeably. "What an unpleasant surprise."
"We aim to please," said Seamus calmly, a smug look plastered about his face. "So, little Miss Perfect," he spat, "finally figured out the truth. And Weasley's gonna fight me for calling her that." Ron's face had gone brick red with anger, his fists balled up at his sides. "What's wrong, Weasley? She your girlfriend?" Ron's face, if possible went a bit redder, and Hermione's cheeks were tinged pink.
Underneath his cold fury towards Seamus, Harry felt a ripple of light amusement.
"So what if she is?" Ron shot back.
The expression on Seamus's face turned colder than before.
"I always knew," he explained as though he were talking to an old friend, "that Granger and you had something. You were in love, and everyone knew it but you." His voice grew into a low growl as he whispered, "You were so blind."
It happened in a flash of crimson and blue light; had Harry not had the skills of a Seeker who sported excellent vision, he'd have missed it. Ron had whipped his wand from behind his back and performed some kind of hex, and Seamus had been blown into and threw the dorm door, leaving a large hole where he'd hit. Ron stood poised with his wand hand outstretched, a look only to be described as murderous in his brown eyes. Harry knew for an instant one thing he'd never do: Tell Ron that he was blind towards his feelings for Hermione.
An eerie silence fell across the three people in the room. Harry slowly walked over to the door without speaking and looked through the hole. Nothing was there but a long white streak. Hermione walked over to the door, lightly gestured for Harry to step aside, then muttered an incantation, and the hole in the door was gone. Harry sat down on his bed as Ron and Hermione faced each other sheepishly.
"Er…" said Ron.
"Yeah," said Hermione.
Harry stared at them with confusion. Don't act like you're a smooth-talker around girls, a voice reprimanded him angrily. You can barely string one whole sentence together around Ginny Weasley. Shaddup. Great, now I'm talking and arguing with myself. I wonder if Ron does this?
Then, to Harry's great disgust and before he could turn his head away, Ron leaned closer to Hermione, until their lips finally met in a soft kiss. Harry figured they would break away instantaneously, but he found himself wrong, as the kiss only deepened.
Gathering his wand and shoving on a set of robes, Harry left the dorm, trusting that the two lovers would be quite content without him. Well. Today was already eventful. Deciding it best to wait for Ron and Hermione to finish their…er…business before going to see Dumbledore, Harry plopped down on the couch in front of the fireplace.
He sighed audibly. Why can't I just kiss Gin and get it over with? he demanded angrily of himself, then shook himself. I'm starting to act like Ron. He shrugged to himself, then murmured aloud, "Is that such a bad thing?"