Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

by tooieleafs

In Harry Potter's fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an ancient legend begins to stir back to life...a legend that tells of a powerful foe who impersonated others to destroy his enemies. Harry is pressed to his limits dealing with V

20.

Chapter Twenty

Giggles and Quidditch

"What's not such a bad thing?"

Harry sprang to his feet at the quiet voice from behind him. Ginny stood at the bottom of the stairs to the girls' dorms, her red hair glistening in the fire of the common room. There was a funny flutter in the region of Harry's stomach as he plopped back down in the chair, choosing the easy way out of her question: ignore it.

Ginny walked over to the sofa and sat down next to him, barely an inch between them.

"Where're Ron and Hermione?" she asked in a would-be casual voice.

Wonder why she sounds like that? Seamus is dead, dolt. She's worried about how you're taking it—but you obviously don't care. Shaddup.

"Er—snogging in our dorm," Harry said bluntly, with a look of such seriousness that Ginny goggled at him for a moment before collapsing into a fit of giggles.

"What brought—that—about?" Ginny choked out between laughs.

"It's really ratherincredible," said Harry awkwardly. "See, Ron and me slept through Dumbledore's announcements—"

"No kidding," said Ginny coolly.

"—and then Mione came up and got angry at us," he continued, ignoring Ginny's comment, "and then—this is the incredible part—Seamus Finnigin appeared. Before he could say anything but that Ron and Mione love each other, Ron stunned him and blew him through our dorm door, then he disappeared and Ron and Herm started snogging."

Once more, Ginny gawked at him. She was still shaking with suppressed giggles from the news of her brother and best friend snogging, but her eyes were telling Harry one thing—she thought he was mental.

"Really, Ginny, think for a second before calling me an idiot," he said quietly. "Would Ron and Hermi just start snogging out of nowhere? Be realistic," he added, seeing her giving him a sarcastic glance.

"I suppose you're right," she muttered after a moment, "Ron would be too daft to realize two plus two equals four if it involved Hermione in any way." She paused, then her face contorted with anger. "WHY HAVEN'T YOU GONE TO SEE DUMBLEDORE?!" she screeched.

Harry edged away a bit from the seething witch, then laughed slightly, saying, "I'm not interrupting them. I'd rather not witness more snogging, thank you very much."

Ginny stared at him, her face expressionless. Quite suddenly, however, a mischievous glint appeared in her brown eyes and an innocent smile appeared across her face.

"You wouldn't kiss a girl?" she asked impishly.

It took Harry several moments to take her implication, and when he finally understood, he jumped up from his seat.

"Er—I will go get them, maybe," he spluttered, walking towards the stairs.

Ginny chortled with laughter after him.

Bounding up the steps, Harry turned his head and stared ruefully down back to where Ginny was waiting for him to return with Ron and Hermione. Now is NOT the time to be thinking of ways to kiss her senseless, dolt! Just go fetch Ron and Hermione!

In the end this voice won over any other quarries in his mind, and he continued darting up the stairs. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the door, which he'd closed as he had left earlier. He knocked tentatively. No response. He pounded on the door with his fist.

"Ron, Mione!" he called loudly.

"GO AWAY!" came a muffled answer.

Harry was silent for a moment, then he tried to open the door. But as he reached out, there was a soft click. They had locked the door.

"Damn it," Harry said quietly. He drew his wand and whispered, "Alohomora."

Another click sounded, and Harry forced through the door. His eyes were greeted by the sight of a very-busy Ron and Hermione, both of whom seemed oblivious to anything in the world other than each other.

"Quit snogging for just a moment, could you please?" Harry muttered, looking away.

A soft gasp came, and he turned to see Ron and Hermione spring apart, looking rather winded. Both had very pink cheeks. Harry surveyed them with mild amusement for a moment, wondering why Hermione hadn't tried out for band—she obviously had very good breath support.

"You—er—wanted to speak with us?" Hermione breathed.

"Just—we need to go to Dumbledore," said Harry quickly, "then you two can come back here for some more privacy—"

"Shaddup," said Ron irritably. "Let's go, then."

The walk down the stairs was rather stiff and quiet; both Ron and Hermione seemed to be trying to ignore the fact that they had just snogged for fifteen, non-stop minutes, and Harry had no desire to cause tribulation between them.

Ginny giggled slightly as she caught sight of Ron's scarlet face, followed then by Hermione's equally red one, then Harry's irritated expression (if not disgusted totally).

"What kept you?" she said with an amused tone.

Harry glared and gestured vaguely to the teenagers in front of him. Ginny's mouth formed the word "Oh" but no sound came out. She was staring towards the portrait hole, and Harry, following her gaze, saw that there was a very tall man standing there, appearing as though he had just climbed through the portrait hole. Directly behind him were Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape, all glancing furtively around, their wands drawn.

"Er—is there a problem, professors?" said Harry meekly.

The big man spoke first, a small amount of French in his accent.

"There was a non-Apparitionatory disappearance in the fifth years' dormitory at approximately ten fifteen," he said stoutly. "It is my responsibility as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to ensure that everyone is all right and to find whatever it was that disappeared. So," he added, a suspicious look about him, "which one of you used such magic as a non-Apparitionatory—"

All at once, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione started speaking.

"It wasn't us—"

"—yeah, it was Finnigin—"

"—he was an Urdai, Professor—!"

"—he showed up in our dorm—"

"—and told Ron and Hermione of their undying love of each other—"

Harry was elbowed into silence mid-sentence by Hermione, whose cheeks were challenging Ron's hair in color.

"Before any of you began explanations again," Dumbledore said quietly, his blue eyes staring them down, "can I please ask you a few questions?" His voice carried a hint of amusement and his eyes began to twinkle once more as his gaze lingered on Ron and Hermione's interlaced hands.

The two teenagers sprang apart once more, appearing very flustered.

"Now, who came into your dorm?"

"Seamus Finnigin," said Harry calmly. "Or something of that natureit looked like him."

"How did this thing disappear?"

"Ron blew him through a door, then it was gone the next second when we looked out."

"Any markings of any kind around where it vanished?"

Harry thought hard for a moment.

"Er—yeah, a long white streak."

Professor Dumbledore stepped back, appearing satisfied. He glanced pointedly at the big man, who cleared his throat.

"It couldn't have been an Urdai, Dumbledore, you know that as well as I," he muttered softly.

"Why exactly not, Romulus?" said Dumbledore courteously.

The man, Romulus, looked a bit startled before he answered, "Well, they've been extinct for a good fifteen years now."

"The legend, Romulus, the legend," whispered Professor Flitwick squeakily.

Romulus turned his gaze to the minute professor.

"You can't mean—surely you don't believe—that was complete rubbish, Flitwick, and you know it."

"It wasn't rubbish, Romulus," said Flitwick quietly. "It was as true as I am real. The Urdai are invincible to extinction. They'll never die out. You should well be aware of that as head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Flitwick and Romulus leered at each other behind narrowed eyes.

"Enough," said Dumbledore. "The legend is a legend, and whether or not any of us chooses to believe it is his or her business. I would rather not discuss such a controversial issue that matters very little at a time such as this. Something—or someone—is getting on and off the school grounds without Apparition, and by all means every measure of safety must be taken. First and foremost," he directed to Romulus, "you are to either escort Mr. Fudge's Dementors off of my school grounds or I will drive them away. They're nothing but a threat now, and they can no more protect my students than I."

"I'm not required to follow your orders, Headmaster," said Romulus in a soft hiss. "You're not working for our side, that much is obvious—"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed dangerously. He carried a manner of anger that Harry had only seen once—when he'd stunned Moody last year.

"I am working with you and your Ministry as much as you are, Romulus," he said, his expression not faltering, "and I therefore demand as much respect as you get. I am headmaster of this school, and I shall protect my responsibilities, these students, as I see fit. Your Minister of Magic's condolence means little more than nothing to me when he refuses to accept the truth. I will not live on lies, Romulus, and I beg you to take your Dementors away from here or I shall have them destroyed, something which would do us all a favor."

Romulus's eyes flickered from each of the four professors, then back to Harry. His gaze settled upon Harry, though, and it lingered there for several moments.

"The boy—is he Harry Potter?"

"That is not your area of concern, Romulus," said Professor McGonagall quietly, an Irish accent flaring sharply.

Romulus's eyes narrowed, then he stalked off angrily. The garnet fire in Dumbledore's eyes slowly faded as he turned back to Harry and the others. He smiled kindly.

"Romulus Lupin," he said quietly. "Remus's brotherbrothers of close age tend to be quite different, don't they?" He laughed softly. "I'll need to see the place where Finnigin disappeared, Harry, if you don't mind."

Harry nodded, then walked towards his dorm, wondering what was happening in the outside world that hadn't reached the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

The next week for Harry was fairly uneventful. Hermione announced the day after Seamus popped up that the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor had been changed to the Friday of the week they were in. Fred and George had nearly matched Oliver Wood in forcing their team to practice every night, hour upon hour.

The first couple of nights of late practice were the worst for Harry; Filch caught him the first night, dragging snow in behind him—he received detention in the Forbidden Forest two weeks from Friday, and the second night he hadn't been able to fall asleep, so he just sat aimlessly in front of the fire. By the morning of the fourth day, his eyes were baggy and his temper was on a short leash.

"Morning, Harry," Ginny greeted cheerfully that dreary Thursday before the game.

"Mm," he responded, about to take a bite of his bacon. He missed and ended up falling onto his plate, dead asleep. Milk poured down the side of the table and on him, but he was too blacked out to notice.

Ginny eyed him with worry next to Ron and Hermione (who had finally been forced to release each other to eat properly).

"Sheesh," Ron muttered, "such manners—"

Ginny glared at him.

"Fred and George are killing the team!" she said.

"Nah, they're just practicing them hard so we'll win," Ron responded easily.

"Look at Kirk!"

Kirk Joseph, who'd just entered the Great Hall was fidgeting, arms shooting out at odd times.

"He still thinks he's playing Quidditch! It's taking over their lives!"

Just then, as if to accentuate her frustration of fidgeting and sleepy, unmannerful boys, lightning flared sharply at the ceiling. A storm was brewing outside, obviously, which only increased Ginny's anxiety.

"He'll freeze tonight coming in!" she told Ron and Hermione, vaguely gesturing to a very comfortable-looking Harry. "Really, January—what a time to have a thunderstorm!" she fumed, giving the ceiling a dark glance.

"Relax, Ginny," said Hermione soothingly, "I'm sure he'll be fine."

Ginny, though still seeming not convinced, turned to Harry with a dazzling smile and pecked lightly on his shoulder.

"I'll be down to the pitch in a moment," he mumbled, his hand rising, then falling, "just five more minutes, Fred, and I swear I'll be there"

He continued spewing out words unintelligibly, and this seemed to only confirm Ginny's belief. She got up and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, bumping hotly by Fred and George and giving them dark glances as she passed.

"What was that all about?" Fred yawned.

Hermione stared at Fred in horror, her thoughts now the same as Ginny's, and she, too, stormed off.

Ron waved jovially after her, calling, "Does this mean our date for tonight's canceled?"

Hermione glared over her shoulder, and Ron sniggered into his breakfast after her.

Late that same night, Harry trudged back into the castle, wet from head to toe and sneezing and sniffling every other step. He came to the wonderful conclusion that he had allergies or something of the like—or that maybe winter downpours weren't the best time to practice Quidditch for seven hours.

He reached the portrait hole unscathed by either Filch or Mrs. Norris only to find that the Fat Lady was in a deep, impossible-to-disturb slumber. Harry began yelling the password at her in as loud a whisper as he could manage, until finally he gave up, wrapped himself in a cloak, and fell asleep on the ground in front of the portrait hole.

When he woke next, he was considerably warmer. His hair still felt slightly wet, but his head was lying on something quite warm. He groaned, prying his sleep-filled eyes open. He blinked several times before he finally recognized the worried face of Ginny Weasley staring down at him. It took him several more moments to realize why he was so warm—one, he was sitting in front of the fire, and two, his head was in Ginny's lap.

Immediately he shot up, knocking heads with Ginny halfway up and ending up back where he started.

"Ow." was all Ginny said, rubbing her forehead.

"Er—sorry," Harry tried to say, but failed—his voice was gone.

"You're hoarse, aren't you?" Ginny said quietly. "Laryngitis, I'd say. Maybe we ought to take you to Madam Pomfrey."

Harry shook his head violently, nearly falling out of his comfortable position.

"Well thenHermione and I will tend to you." Ginny eyed him with sympathy before adding, while biting her lip, "You might not be able to be in the match tomorrow."

Harry groaned, then stopped instantaneously, feeling his throat catch on fire.

"Don't speak or say anything, and your voice might come back," Ginny told him.

"Thanks for warning me," he whispered back in a scratchy voice. "Wand?"

Ginny handed him his wand. He twirled it around, concentrating hard on a simple spell, until letters formed in the air. "What time is it?" they said.

"Four thirty in the morning," Ginny said quickly.

"Why're you up, then?"

"I waited up for you," Ginny responded in a quiet voice, her cheeks tinged pink. "When you didn't come I got worried."

Neither moved for a moment, then words formed again.

"Thank you."

Again, there was a pregnant pause. Then Ginny spoke again, a small smile appearing on her face.

"What are friends for?"

"NOOOOO! HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO US?!" Fred and George continuously yelled skyward the whole of Friday morning, seemingly cursing God.

"WE DON'T ASK FOR MUCH, DO WE?!"

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"WHY!" they said simultaneously.

Harry was bedfast, lying in his four-poster and feeling weak and helpless. Madam Pomfrey, though reluctant she was to release him after her inspection, having wanted to tend to Harry herself, had signed him a pass from class. It seemed he had caught pneumonia from the cold. So his Friday started off horribly, the day of the match. Ginny came to him in between her classes to check his fever and give him a potion to cure him.

Harry felt helpless and weak, but he couldn't have fought it if he'd tried. Every muscle seemed to ache with pain when he tried to do anything, and even worse were the cold chills he felt. He kept several layers of cover over himself at all times.

By the time of the Quidditch match, Harry was feeling alone and depressed. Ginny hadn't been reluctant at all in her decision to stay with him during the match, and had even spoken with Dumbledore about arranging a view screen of the game for the Gryffindor fifth years' dorms. He had agreed and now Harry could watch the action of the game as a Muggle would watch a sports game—only without wires.

Ginny cared for him as a mother would her child, only there was something that continuously flickered in her eyes that told Harry something rather unsettling that he didn't even discuss with himself.

The screen flicked on, taking up the whole of a wall opposite Harry's bed. Several people were walking around on the pitch, and snow was falling gently from the sky.

"Welcome to our game today!" came Lee Jordan's voice from nowhere. It sounded a bit gloomy, but he tried to feign cheerfulness. "I'm very sorry to inform you that everyone's favorite Gryffindor Seeker—" he paused, and Harry supposed McGonagall had reprimanded him "—is sick with pneumonia." Groans sounded from the Gryffindors in the crowd. "But he is watching this game from his dorm. Give him a warm welcome today, would you?"

Applause rang out as the door to the dorm flew open. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny walked in, wearing identical expressions of amazement at the wide screen. Harry grinned.

"Game's about to begin," he said quietly in his scratchy voice.

Ginny plopped down next to him (pneumonia wasn't supposed to be contagious, Madam Pomfrey said), ruffling his hair in what could only be described as an affectionate way.

"How's my little baby?" she cooed teasingly.

Harry glared falsely at her, then coughed a bit.

"Good, good," he said.

"Take your potion, Harry-warry."

"Please try to refrain from calling me that," said Harry wincing at the mushy name.

She handed him a goblet full of acid green liquid. Harry's nose wrinkled up as it always did, then he closed his eyes and drained it in one gulp. He pulled a face at Ginny.

"I know it tastes bad, but it'll help," she said quaintly.

"Help me get better or throw up?" Harry said, giving her a lopsided grin.

"We brought you some food," said Ron, grinning over at his sister and best friend, who were at a very close proximity to each other—he had somehow lightened up about Ginny and Harry's relationship with each other.

"Could you save it for later? I couldn't eat now if I tried," Harry muttered.

Hermione put a charm on it to keep everything warmed that needed to be, and Harry's eyes once more flew to the viewing screen. Lee Jordan had started announcing again.

"And now, here comes your Gryffindor Quidditch team!" he shouted. "Defending champions of the House Cup. Two Weasleys, Johnson, Bell, Joseph, Spinnet, and, filling in for Harry Potter, Dean Thomas! Give em a round of applause!" Seven red blurs shot out from the locker rooms and applause rang out from everywhere. "Now here comes Ravenclaw! Chang heads this team, then Boot, Ackerly, Quirke" he continued ticking off names as blue blurs shot out of the locker rooms.

"Dean's a Seeker?" Harry said, shocked.

"Not really, but he was the only one to volunteer for the job," said Ron quietly.

The game started quickly for Gryffindor; five minutes into it, Katie scored on a pass from Alicia, making it ten to nothing. Kirk was challenged time after time after time, and each time he made a spectacular save. However, as Cho's tactics were to follow the other team's Seeker, the Snitch was nowhere to be seen. Harry found himself searching for it.

"No one'll ever get the Snitch," he muttered crossly. "If Dean doesn't see it, that is. Cho's just going to follow him around unless she sees it."

Meanwhile, Lee continued commenting on the game.

"Spinnet takes the Quaffle down the pitch, pass to Bell—watch out, Katie! Bludger coming your way! Good swerve! George, where were you to protect your—" a muffled word followed this, one Harry barely understood as "girlfriend". He smirked towards Ron, who sighed.

"Constant letter-writing all summer between Katie and George and Fred and Angelina," he said in a disgusted tone. Hermione gave him a sly smile upon noticing this, and a wink. Ron's ears went red.

"Pass back to Spinnet. Taken towards Ackerly, pass to Bell, shot! GRYFFINDOR SCORES! Twenty to nothing, Gryffindor lead, and Quirke takes the Quaffle. A Bludger hit by one of the Weasley twins—no idea which one—goes zooming towards her, she passes it just in time to Boot, Boot takes it down all alone, goes left, then right, SHOT! SAVE, JOSEPH! Quaffle to Spinnet. Spinnet hurls it towards Bell, Bell takes it down towards Ackerly once more. She streaks down, takes a shot—no, pass—it goes straight to Johnson, SCORES! Thirty to nothing, GRYFFINDOR!

By an hour later, Gryffindor was leading one hundred ninety to nothing. Harry had seen the Snitch several times, but it was at no avail that he shouted at the screen—it only hurt his throat.

Finally, Cho dived and came up with the Snitch clasped tightly in her hand, a look of triumph upon her face.

"Chang gets the Snitch, but guess what! GRYFFINDOR WINS, ONE NINETY TO ONE FIFTY!" shouted Lee happily.

The Gryffindors poured out of the stands and Ron, Hermione and Ginny whooped and shouted. Harry couldn't remove the dopey grin from his face that was plastered there as the Gryffindor Quidditch team slammed into each other in midair in joyous melancholy.

"ONLY THE FINAL LEFT!" Harry heard Fred shout.

Moments later, they rampaged off the pitch, shouting happily. Harry laid there on his bed for several moments, not believing the joyousness of the moment. He also felt angry for not being there, but at least they had won.

Ginny hugged him tightly and, acting very daring, kissed his cheek. Harry felt himself go scarlet, wondering if steam was coming out of his ears. Hermione and Ron only grin knowingly at the pair of them, which only caused Ginny's face to match Harry's in color.

To save him from his embarrassment, the door burst open at that moment, and in barged the whole Gryffindor house, headed by Fred, George, and the rest of the team. Though they appeared apprehensive about his sickness, they crowded around his four-poster.

That night, Gryffindor House partied in the fifth year boys' dorm, chatting and talking as if they were in the common room. Ginny finally ushered them all out around two o'clock in the morning, saying that Harry needed rest if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow. The Gryffindors reluctantly agreed, only Ron, Neville, Hermione, Dean, and Ginny staying with him.

"Take your medicine," said Ginny in a mother-like tone.

Harry drained his goblet once more, groaning and pulling a face.

"By the morning you ought to be well," she said, satisfied.

"Why couldn't Madam Pomfrey have just give me an instant cure?" Harry muttered.

"I believe it's against the law here to give instant cures to non life-threatening occurrences," said Hermione loftily.

"I've had bones mended that weren't life-threatening," Harry said, frowning.

"Well then, maybe there's not an instant cure," said Ginny smartly, smiling down at him.

"There should be," Harry complained. "Pneumonia hurts."

"Well, I ought to get to bed," said Hermione. She gave Ron a quick kiss on the cheek, causing him to blush, then gave Harry an encouraging wave and smile.

"I'll be heading off, too," said Ginny, sighing as she glanced at her watch. "'Night, Harry."

And she kissed his cheek as Hermione had kissed Ron's. Harry turned red as his best friend, then shut his eyes tightly, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.