A/N: well, what should I begin with? Okay, the usual: thank you for all the reviews, people!!!

Nikkianna: no idea whether Will Whittby is handsome, but let's say that he is :-) Yes, you are right about Neville's dream.

Rodi: I don't care what the film is like – I'm gonna watch it. (I already have tickets for two showings)

Aaridys: it might be a sacrilege to make Harry impregnate a girl while still at school, but have you ever looked around in the HP section of ffnet? Have you seen all those NC-17 fics? Or the slash-ones? IMHO those are real sacrileges. Compared to them my story is totally innocent – isn't it?

eternity: originally Harry was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, but after his departure Ron took over the lead. About Neville messing up the match… you'll find out in a couple of minutes.

PadmeSkywalker: Merry Christmas to you, too!

anastacy: good for you that you only have to sit for two exams – I'll have nine (not to mention all the tests before them).

Andromeda: (wow, I like that constellation, especially M31 – the Andromeda galaxy!) Have you really read it three times??? When I started to write this fic – back in summer – I never thought that people would like it so much. I expected to get about 5-6 reviews per chapter… so this is really surprising – in a good way!

Fiona chan: my mom told the same: she didn't like Gilderoy before she read my story, but now she likes him :-) About your guess: well… who knows? *I, of course, lol*

Gwen Fifortry: I'll check out your story as soon as my exams let me have some time (which isn't too possible until the end of January *sigh* I won't even have proper Christmas and New Year, since I'll have one exam on 27th December, the next on 2nd January… life isn't fair.)

princesswitch: of course I'll bring Dumbledore back – at the end of the fic, no sooner.

Alexander Pheonix: I didn't think this was a cliffie. Was it???

zzxm: well, there will be one chapter in which Voldie will be a main-character. I'm not letting him stay totally in background – he needs to be evil, and he cannot be really evil in the background.

Shaun Wilson: I don't know whether your ignorance is due to your age or lack of education, but… may I ask what you pay with in the shops? Galleons, maybe? I thought you were American, thus paid with USD – USA Dollar!!!! About IMF: I didn't think of Mission Impossible (haven't even seen that movie, cause I can't stand Tom Cruise) – the real IMF is the International Monetary Fund. Of course you weren't supposed to know it, because it's an economic institution. About Neville: IMHO he isn't the type of guy who would brag. Draco would, but most definitely not Neville.

fire*child1: in chapter 18 Ginny was complaining to Ron and Hermione that Snape was saying nasty things about her condition. I didn't make him do it "on-screen", but he did it, nevertheless.

Ariana Black: where did Harry go? Just start reading this chapter, you'll know.

Tuft19: yes, Neville DID fall off his broom in book one. But my story isn't book one – a fanfic author has the freedom to write anything he/she wants. Anyway, everyone can have hidden abilities that don't get revealed until a certain age. For example I only turned out to be good at drawing at the age of 13. Neville turned out to be a good flier when he was 16.

Waldomier: Ginny in this chapter is 7 months pregnant.

D2: about Harry taking his place back as seeker… it will happen but not in a way that would ruin your day, I promise! You'll learn everything about the Moon Run soon. (next week) ((um, does your nickname come from Star Wars - R2D2?))

Pschan_88: Harry will always be the best seeker! I haven't forgotten for a single second that HE is the main character!

PepsiAngel: you don't have to be patient too long…

georgia: Snape did have a reason to be especially mean – he was having problems, as I mentioned in the last chapter. Serious problems. Um, what were you talking about? Harry on a rug then on a broom? WHERE, if I may ask? The only time he flew on a rug was in chapter 19. If you meant chapter 24, then he was riding a broomstick to save Sunny – no carpet!

IloveLinkinPark222: wow, do you really read all my answers? I thought they were pretty boring…

dudette: the words 'realized', 'cilized' are definitely written with 'z' in American English, but with 's' in British English – and I usually write British English.

frizzylizzy: 10 times a day???

Reia Silivin: yes, it really is the highest compliment one could write to me. I know I wrote Anuck-Su-Namun's name wrong, but I needed her to have the mid-name 'sun', so I could call her Sunny.

Atalanta Zora: thanks for refraining from writing "aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh" – that single word your wrote was enough for me to know that you still like the story :-)

Zenon Lee: why Neville? Because I wanted him to. That's why. (silly answer, I know, sorry.)

apple-pie: what is your nationality or mother tongue??? Cause you were referring to Snape as "Piton", which is strange, because I thought that he was only called Piton in the Hungarian translation. (Which I think is really good – Snape sounds like snake and piton – python in English – is a snake).

Mikey: yes, the Run is an international race (you'll be surprised HOW international it is) People only ride brooms in the Run, no carpets. About your suggestion: thank you very much, but my computer is quite old and slow, and there's not much free space left, so it wouldn't be proper to start playing the movie on it. (Anyway, I sit way too much before the computer screen without watching movies on it, that's why I'm getting short-sighted. Soon I'll need glasses – I'll buy some Harry-ish glasses, lol!)

Pudadingding: have I not mentioned you? Sorry… that might have been because you were surely asking questions that many others also asked and I didn't want to reply to same to ten people. About the baby's name: you will be disappointed. (Though it won't be James).

Kacella: yes, we do celebrate St. Nicholas in Hungary – giving each other lots of sweets. (I received lots of boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and finally managed to find carrot- tomato- and radish-flavoured ones!) Sorry, Draco won't get together with Sunny… I have other plans for that girl.

Iris McCartney: Daniel Radcliffe is 12 now, and I share your opinion - he is totally adorable!

Lilith Ceridwen: Spanish, are you? I think your English is really good – so don't worry, start writing your fic in English! No, I never said that Draco was TOTALLY evil – but he is evil a bit. You'll see him at the end of the fic again. Yes, I have read the Draco series and found it amazing! My favourite! "Lol" means "lots of laugh".

Maria: I haven't seen the film yet – next Thursday! (Less than a week, yippieee!!!!) I know that Harry has blue eyes in the film, but I guess I'll be able to put up with it… Daniel is still cute.

Arrghhh, this was long again! Sorry… Have fun!

Chapter 26

A hopeless match

*Good that I have learnt how to disapparate.* Harry thought, gazing out the window. The lush verdant foliage of the trees of India, the spicy smell of the humid air and the hundred different colours of birds flying by, made him feel full of energy and somehow free, too.

He knew that his journey to India was nothing else but a desperate escape from Egypt – from a girl who happened to love him, and from the terrible knowledge that his amnesia was incurable.

He let out a sigh, examining the huge, colourful (mainly pink and yellow) elephants that were standing in the parking place. (Some Indian wizards, who had agoraphobia, preferred travelling on elephants to carpet-rides or broomstick-flights.)

Harry was aware, though, that he could never really escape his fate, never could get contended with his situation.

He wanted to get his memories back. He was thirsting after them as much as he needed water in the middle of the Sahara. Back then, help came in the person of Ali Ababwa… but his current need couldn't be satisfied, and the longing in his heart started to tore him apart, from inside out…

Other people would even have been glad not to recall anything – they might have felt grateful for the chance of starting a new life without having to face the problems of the previous one… but not Harry.

He was never like other people.

He was special… and didn't even know it.

During his stay in Egypt, sometimes he was awoken by a sudden pain hurting his forehead. He would get up, go to a mirror and examine himself – only to see nothing wrong.

Absolutely nothing.

He never thought to talk about it to Mr. Abysmal, his daughter or Gilderoy. They couldn't understand him, neither could they help him, he kept telling himself.

He shook his head, resigned. He was about to go mad.

He escaped, all right. He had amnesia, okay. His forehead hurt once in a while, never mind. He could handle it, couldn't he? He was a wizard, after all…

But for the time being he was a would-be competitor of the Moon Run. Training was about to start the following day.

He had this day free, before getting sucked into this whole race-craze. Harry decided to make use of the day as much as possible.

"Come, Abu!" he beckoned to the monkey that eagerly jumped on his shoulder. "We are going sightseeing."

They left the house of Ravin, mingling with the crowd.

Witches dressed in saris hurried past Harry, some of them carrying pitchers on their heads.

*How can they balance those?* Harry wondered. He didn't see any of the witches waving wands so he just couldn't imagine how those women managed to keep the pitchers on their heads. Was there a special charm for that?

Every now and then cows crossed the streets, people politely giving way to them. *Why are cows holy animals, when they don't even have magical powers?* Harry thought, then came to a halt. "Beautiful Bill…" he muttered.

Abu gave him a questioning stare.

"Ah, nothing, Abu." the boy sighed. "I just thought I remembered something."

They continued their walk through the dirty, narrow streets, sometimes stopping to look at some fakirs.

Shortly before sunset Harry was standing in front of a serpent-charmer, deeply immersed in his thoughts about the upcoming race (which he hoped would be a diversion from his dark thoughts on amnesia), when the three-headed orange snake – a runespoor-, writhing in the casket, suddenly stopped its dance, its left head letting out a sigh. "Oh, man, I've had enough." ((A/N: for reference on runespoor see Magical Beasts and where to find them))

"Excuse me?" Harry's eyes widened.

"I said I'm fed up." the snake's left head replied. "Day in, day out having to play the clown to those fools who happen to walk by."

"Are you not contented with your job?" the boy asked.

"Contented??? Are you kidding? Have you ever tried putting on a daylong show every day, and get nothing but a dead rat for it at the end of the day? Have you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, come on, stop whining!" the right head of the serpent cut in.

"I'm not whining." the left head turned up its nose.

"Oh, yes, you are! Look at the bright side of life!"

"What bright side?"

"Well, take a leaf out of Ranath's book!" the right head looked at the middle one, that was staring into the distance, a dreamy expression on its face. "Hey, Ranath!"

"Huh?" the middle head looked up.

"I was telling Rabind that life wasn't that terrible at all."

"Oooh…" Ranath's head nodded. "Life is wonderful… look at those beautiful butterflies over there…"

"Butterflies, eh?" Rabind, the left head snorted at spat on the ground.

Tagore, the right head turned to Harry. "Sorry about Rabind's behaviour, sir. Please don't get mad at us, sir."

"Oh, never." Harry tried to smile, not really knowing what to tell a snake whose heads kept arguing.

"You are THE ONE." he heard another voice.

"Huh?" he looked up from the runespoor, looking for the source of that voice. It was the serpent-charmer, a small and extremely old man with a thin beard and white turban. "Pardon me?"

"YOU ARE THE ONE." the little man answered with a dreamy face, his expression mirroring that of Ranath. Harry had no doubt that the guy had consumed a great deal of opium, since his eyes were glassy and distant – as though he had been talking to someone else, miles away.

Harry decided to walk away, but the small man put a hand on his shoulder, repeating: "YOU ARE THE ONE."

"Who?" Harry frowned. The old guy was surely not only under the effect of opium, but crazy as well.

"You are Parselmouth." came the answer.

"Of course he is, dude!" Rabind interjected. "How in hell could he talk with us if he weren't?"

"I know." Harry shrugged. "And?"

The old man's glassy eyes found Harry's, his stare deeply diving into that of the boy. "The Dark Lord… he is also Parselmouth."

Tagore nodded eagerly and Ranath heaved a deep sigh: "Ah, the Dark Lord… nice man he is. Those pretty red eyes…"

"The Dark Lord?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He remembered Sunny telling him about the Dark Lord – she usually just called him You-Know-Who.

"Yes… the Dark Lord." the old Indian whispered in a very mysterious tone. "Heed my words, son… he can be defeated."

"Oh, cool." Harry crossed his arms, starting to find the serpent-charmer quite amusing.

"Only one thing can defeat him…" the old guy continued, not noticing the boy's nonchalant answer, "…true love... only true love can conquer the greatest evil."

"Love?" Harry smirked. The old man was really out of his mind.

"Load of dung." Rabind commented. "Mind you, this old codger is off his rocker."

"Yes, son, love." the elderly wizard nodded. "But not the love of a friend, not even the love of a parent… these can only delay his destruction."

"Oh, sure. Clear as crystal." Harry rolled his eyes.

The serpent-charmer didn't stop.

"No brotherly or parental love can bring about his undoing, only the true love of a lover… but beware… beware the sunrise at Stonehenge!" the old guy suddenly released Harry's shoulder, sitting back down to his runespoor, lifting his flute to his lips, starting to play music, as though nothing had happened.

"Stonehenge, huh?" Rabind snorted. "Codswallop."

"Oh, come off, he isn't as stupid as he looks." the right head started to wriggle to the rythm of the music, and the middle one followed suit. The arguing left one had no other choice than to do the same.

Casting a last glance at the dancing Rabind, Ranath and Tagore, Harry left with Abu.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Hogwarts was in a fever of Quidditch again.

The day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match had finally come.

Back on 3rd November, Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff under the leadership of Harry Potter. In March Hufflepuff was vanquished by Ravenclaw and by Slytherin.

At the beginning of April there was a Ravenclaw-Slytherin match, and Ravenclaw was beaten 180-160. Slytherin's new seeker was noticeably better than Malfoy.

At the end of April Gryffindor was beaten by Ravenclaw, and now badly needed to win the match against Slytherin – but there was no chance for it – or at least almost none. Everyone agreed that there had to be a miracle to win – for example the Snitch flying directly into Neville's hand. And that was quite unlikely.

Neville was extremely nervous that morning – so were all members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ron couldn't sleep the whole night, and was tired beyond imagination. Hermione talked him into drinking a big mug of coffee, then gave him a good-luck-kiss on the cheek and left for the grandstand, where Parvati, Lavender and Ginny had already been waiting for her. They looked much more nervous than she was.

Parvati was crumpling a handkerchief, and Lavender kept pulling out her pocket-mirror to check her make-up every three minutes – that was the sign of nervousness by her.

Professor McGonagall was pacing among the rows of seats, furrowing her brow, trying to avoid Professor Snape's victorious glances from the other side of the Quidditch pitch.

"Look at that bastard!" Lavender hissed. "Look at that grin on his face!"

"Oh, if only I could wipe that smirk off his ugly face!" Ginny fumed.

"You just stay put, and don't wipe anything in your condition, will you?" Hermione interrupted, seating herself next to Ginny. Crookshanks and Wendelin, Ron's pet niffler, were sitting on Hermione's lap. "I couldn't leave them in the dorm. They are also excited about the match." she explained.

"There's not much to be excited about." Pansy said with a wicked grin. "Our team will wipe yours from the pitch, Granger!"

Hermione dropped the two pets and stood up. "Are you that sure, Pansy?"

"Of course I am. Arnold Pitbull is the best seeker Slytherin has had in the last three decades. He is not only lean and light, but very skilled, and… a real predator."

"Predator? You refer to those sex orgies you two had in Moaning Myrtle's toilet?" Hermione wrinkled her nose.

For a second Pansy went as white as a sheet, then turned crimson. "How dare you assert such… such ridiculous things?" she howled, her pretty face contorting into the face of a banshee.

"Take it easy, Pansy." Hermione sneered. "People are watching us."

Pansy looked around to see many curious glances directed at her.

"I might have had sex orgies with Arnold…" she whispered, "but I wasn't that stupid to forget to use protection." she gave Ginny a supercilious look, and turned to leave, but after two steps she turned back to say: "Neville's gonna suck. He's a blunderer. I bet he won't stay on the broom for more than two minutes."

"Who won' do what?" a raucous voice came from behind.

Pansy looked up to see a frowning Hagrid.

"No one…" she gave him a feint smile and hurried away.

"Mind if I sit down, girls?" the Care of Magical Creatures teacher dropped himself down next to Hermione.

"Good to see you, Hagrid. How are the Martians doing?"

"Very well, thanks." the giant answered. "Are the gossips true? Is Neville Longbottom playin' seeker?"

"Afraid so." Parvati sighed.

Soon all spectators seated themselves on the grandstands, banners with the lion of Gryffindor and the serpent of Slytherin floating in the air.

"Shame that Harry isn' here." Hagrid sighed. "Oh, how is Wendelin doin'? May I hold her?"

"Sure." Hermione handed him the niffler.

The two teams walked out to the pitch – Neville holding Harry's Firebolt.

Ron turned to his team-members. "Guys… and girls,' he bent his head in Natalie McDonald's direction, "we have to pull our sock up if we are to win today. I know how difficult it is without our ace seeker, but we can manage it… right, Neville?"

Neville, hearing his name, shuddered, feeling his legs go weak. In the first second he was trembling, in the next he was off.

"Hey, Neville!" Ron shouted after him. "Where are you going?"

Longbottom hurried off the pitch, amidst the howling laughter of the Slytherins.

"Does he have to pee?" Snape smirked at McGonagall, who was covering her red face with her hands.

"I'll get him!" Ron told his team-members, and ran after the 'seeker'.

The spectators were on the rack for about five minutes, when the Gryffindor captain returned – alone.

'I tried' – Hermione read from his mouth. Suddenly Ginny leapt up and left the crowd.

"Where are you…?" Hermione and Hagrid yelled, but she didn't care.

She hurried to the changing rooms, ripped open the door and entered. There was Neville, sobbing on a bench.

"Hey, what are you doing here, you milksop, while everyone out there is waiting for you?"

The boy looked up, a shocked expression on his face. He had never heard Ginny talk like that before.

"I'm… I'm not going anywhere…" he whispered.

"No?" the girl raised an eyebrow. "Don't make me turn you into a flobberworm right here and now!" she pointed her wand at him.

"But… but Ginny… you know how clumsy I am…"

"You are the only clumsy guy who can perform the Whittby-corkscrew." she replied. "And Gryffindor needs you – clumsy or not. Anyway, I'm convinced that this clumsiness is a mental problem of yours. If you keep telling yourself that you can't do it, then you really won't be able to. For a change, tell yourself that you are an okay seeker, and that you don't suck. Understood?"

Neville nodded awkwardly.

"Then get to work!" she motioned him with her wand.

"Aye, aye, captain." the boy saluted and grabbed the Firebolt.

"Be worthy of that broom." Ginny smiled. "Harry would be proud to see you ride it."

* * * * *

When they saw Neville return with Ginny, some of the Slytherins started to point at him, chortling, while others were disappointed that he came back at all.

Snape seemed rather pleased – Longbottom's return (and expected failure during the match) meant that he'd have plenty of opportunity to bug the boy later on. This was the first time since November that Snape felt sorry that Harry wasn't there. He'd have enjoyed the sour look on Potter's face at the end of the Quidditch Final.

Soon Madame Hooch got on her broomstick and blew into her whistle.

The fourteen players soared up into the air.

"Aaaaaand Zambini's got the Quaffle!" came Justin Finch-Fletchley's voice over the magic microphone. "Dennis Creevey gets it, passes to Colin, who scores… oh no, Baddock's intercepted it… look out for that bludger! Aw, poor Thomas, that must have hurt!"

Dean was indeed massaging his nape where the bludger had hit him.

"Wow, what a brilliant saving! Good job, Seamus! And Monty Everest is flying for the Quaffle… got it, and… damn, 10 to 0 for Slytherin!"

Professor Snape gave McGonagall a huge smile, showing all his 32 yellow teeth.

"McDonald is going for the Quaffle, and… hey, that was deliberate! EVEREST, YOU BASTARD!…"

Madame Hooch gave a penalty shot to Gryffindor.

"C'mon, Colin…" Justin yelled. "OH SHIT, PRITCHARD SAVES IT!"

The Slytherin supporters burst out cheering, while disappointed moans could be heard from the Gryffindors.

"Gryffindor back in possession - Natalie passes to Colin, Colin scores!!! GRYFFINDOR EQUALISES! 10-10!"

Many of the Gryffindors stood up, applauding.

Now it was Minerva's turn to flash Snape a 32-teeth smile.

The applause hadn't even subsided when a bludger started to pick on Neville.

He saw the bludger speeding towards him and started racing up twenty metres, then dived with an abrupt move, almost bumping into the ground. As he realised that he was still in one piece, and turned around to see that the bludger had given up on chasing him, he let out a joyous yelp, and flew headlong into one of the goal posts, not hearing Justin's voice:

"WATCH OUT FOR THAT…" BANG. "Ouch, get Madame Pomfrey!" he shouted into the mike.

"No… need…" Neville feebly waved his left hand, trying to clutch the handle with his right one. He was still threatening to fall off.

"And Longbottom is ready to continue the fight after a terrible collision with the post. Wow, that guy has a hard nut! …McDonald has the Quaffle, then Zambini gets is… arggggh, 20-10 to Slytherin!"

"Come on, Neville, catch the Snitch…" Hermione whispered.

"The Quaffle is again by Baddock… scores, and Weasley pulls off a spectacular save! Now Creevey… passes to Creevey… heads for the goal posts… damn, Zambini intercepts… 30-10 to Slytherin!"

Another disappointed murmur sounded from the Gryffindor stand.

"Nothing is lost yet, come on, guys!" Finch-Fletchley yelled.

McGonagall was about to tell him off for being partial, but as Slytherin's two beaters - Crabbe and Goyle - clashed in the next second with a loud thump, she totally forgot her intentions of reprimanding, and inspected the gorilla-like Slytherins with barely-hidden malice. Goyle swore like blazes, rubbing his forehead, while Crabbe fondled his broken, bleeding nose.

"Headmistress! Shouldn't we take some points for each swear?" Justin suggested.

Minerva strongly agreed with the boy, but the 700 fouls of Quidditch unfortunately didn't include swears – not to mention that Justin's choice of language wasn't a thing better.

While Crabbe and Goyle collected themselves, Baddock threw another goal. 40-10 to Slytherin.

The Snitch still wasn't within eyeshot, though both seekers – Arnold Pitbull and Neville – were eagerly goggling the distance to notice the sun flash on the little golden ball.

"Everest's intercepted the Quaffle, passes to Baddock… Dennis was quicker, good move, kid! Dennis passes to Colin, Colin takes aim… oh, my, Zambini gets it… 50-10 to Slytherin." Justin hissed.

Snape sent McGonagall a wide grin, applauding for Blaise Zambini's score.

At that moment… Pitbull set into motion, diving deeply.

*The Snitch!* Neville thought, and followed him. Arnold Pitbull continued his dive, then turned his broom upwards in the last second before hitting the ground.

Neville seemed to be about to bore into the grass, but surprisingly managed to stop the Firebolt three or four feet above the ground.

"THAT WAS THE WRONSKY FEINT!" Justin informed the spectators. "Unbelievable that Longbottom didn't hit the ground! What a presence of mind! LOOK! Neville's speeding upwards… is he gone crazy? What is this lad doing? He's gonna bump into Pitbull… but no … woohoo… he bends the Firebolt, a little turn to the left, a spin… Pitbull's following Longbottom, imitates his whirls, and… WHEW! Get Madame Pomfrey… AND GET ARNOLD OFF THAT PINE! What we've just seen was the famous Whittby-corkscrew… only one man is known to be able to… WHOA! NEVILLE'S GOT THE SNITCH! I haven't even noticed it in the great excitement!" Justin howled at the top of his lungs. "GRYFFINDOR WINS: 160-50! GRYFFINDOR'S GOT THE CUP!"

All the Gryffindors, along with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws jumped up cheering, throwing their pointed hats into the air, shouting Neville's name.

The boy slowly descended onto the grass of the pitch, still clutching the small, winged Snitch in his right hand. He was too touched to speak or to move, so just let his team-members lift him and carry him on their shoulders.

As his glance fell on Snape's sour face, his lips tucked into a smirk, telling 'I've shown you, Snapey… now who do you call a loser?'

While the Gryffindors were jumping for joy, the Slytherins left the stands, unusually silent.

Pansy was crying (either because of the lost match, or because of her boyfriend who was just being dragged down from the pine with a broken jaw and three front teeth missing.)

Millicent was also sullen, but as an owl flew to her, delivering a message, her ugly face lit up like a sun at the zenith. She climbed back onto the stand, letting her house-members go back into the castle, and started to read. The smile on her face grew wider and wider by the minute, her pudgy hand fingering a crystal that was hanging from her neck – a crystal that she had had since Christmas.