A/N: Oh yes, go me! Holidays are finally here! And so is the next chapter of this wonderful (yeah right!) story! Feel special, people! OK, one of my reviewers called animorph suggested about the rating. Iam going to ask some friends' opinions, and the rating may possibly go up to PG. It will not go any higher than this! Really it's just between those two ratings, so just to make sure...but I hope this won't put any of you off.
Disclaimer: Me no do disclaimers!!!
Dedications: Oh heck, all my reviewers again. To hpfan1750- I agree, they are kinda depressing, aren't they? Well, for the moment anyways. I really do apologise for lack of updates.
Harry Potter and the Crystal of Dreams.
Somehow, and Harry swore he'd never know how, the teachers managed to squeeze the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch final into the busy schedule. When the Saturday before the pending exam week dawned, Harry felt as though a mass of Slytherin serpents were writhing full-heartedly in his guts.
It didn't help that his mind was torn between the final, the weird dreams, his O.W.L.s, and the fact that the newest member of their quartet was no longer speaking to him. For the last week or so, Shannon had ignored him completely, not listening to or responding to what he had to say, and looking right through him when he was in front of her. Hermione said that she just needed time to cool down, which was (she said, with a small frown of disapproval at him) perfectly reasonable. Harry despaired because, no matter how many times he tried to apologise, his actions were automatically spurned. Ron thought that everything would sort itself out soon enough, although Harry noticed his friend's confidence in this gradually diminishing every day that passed with the rift still intact.
And then there were the dreams. Harry didn't want to even admit it to himself, but they had been becoming steadily more horrific. He saw his parents, his friends, even people he hardly recognised from around school, dying painfully and slowly...either at his own hands or the hands of Voldemort, unable to stop it. And every time he saw the torturous deaths, he would awake with his scar blazing in a pain that threatened to burst open his skull.
So, thanks to this ever-growing mound of problems the Fates had decided to dish up for him, it was no surprise that he wouldn't eat. However, due to extensive protests, he picked at a piece of toast, shooting occasional looks across at Shannon, working her way methodically and steadily through a plate of fried food. She kept her eyes firmly averted to her plate and her concentration outside of the Quidditch talk. Eventually, just as he was about to raise enough courage to speak to her, she stood up abruptly, turning to leave.
"Shannon?" he asked. She ignored him. Hermione looked up at this.
"Shannon, aren't you coming with us to the stands?" she asked. "Are you going to catch up with us later?"
"No, I have some Arithmancy work to do." She shrugged. "I'll skip the match."
"What?" Ron yelled, horrified at the mere thought. "You can't miss a Quidditch final, especially not one between Gryffindor and Slytherin! It goes against...well, everything good in the world! You're getting worse than Hermione!"
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
Shannon laughed slightly. "Sorry guys, Dad is gonna kill me if my grades for the O.W.L.s aren't high enough, and I'd really like to see my next birthday. Catch you later."
They watched her leave, the doors banging shut behind her. At that moment, Malfoy halted briefly in walking past, flanked by his usual cronies and an additional gang of Slytherins. He sneered at the Gryffindors, all chattering animatedly.
"Enjoy this whilst you can, Potter," he said coldly. "You're about to make an idiot of yourself in front of the whole school."
Harry met his eyes levelly and smiled with equal coldness. In a hostile voice, he replied simply, "Don't count on it."
*****
Angelina gripped the hand of Kurt Baddock, the new Slytherin captain, quickly before dropping it again. Madam Hooch was darting quick glances between the two, ignoring the roaring crowds in the surrounding seats.
"I want a good clean game, as always," she said simply, making sure her every word was clear. "No fouling at all, under any circumstances."
Baddock leered at Angelina, and she didn't attempt to hide her disgust. Harry glanced across at Malfoy, who smirked hatefully at him before looking away.
"Mount your brooms..." Madam Hooch was saying. "On my whistle. Three...two...one..."
There was a short, sharp blast on the silver whistle in her hand and the fourteen players rose into the sky. Harry looked around, slightly giddy with excited nerves, at the huge banners and streamers admist the colourful supporters. Anyone decked out in red, blue or yellow was cheering the Gryffindors on, whilst those in green were Slytherin fans.
And, of course, no match, final or not, would be complete without Lee Jordan's commentating.
"So here we are," he yelled via the magical megaphone. "At the Quidditch final in which Gryffindor are totally going to kick Slytherin's a-"
Harry grinned as he faintly heard McGonagall scream, "Jordan!"
"Alright, fine. Gryffindor will kick Slytherin's PROSTERIOR, as my human rights to freedom of speech are being mauled...no, sorry Professor, just kidding!"
Immediately, Harry began to scan the pitch for any sign of the Golden Snitch. The best thing to do, he decided, is to take Angelina's advice in the changing rooms and end the match as quickly as I can. His grin widened as he remembered the twins' protests that they wanted to beat the Slytherins as long as they could.
"OK, the Quaffle is in Gryffindor possession at once, taken by Chaser Katie Bell. She passes neatly to Alicia Spinnet, who shoots straight back. Pass to Angelina Johnson, who takes aim and...dammit! She misses, due to a save on the part of Keeper Avery. Is it just me, or does this guy look like a gorilla more every year?"
The roar of positive response from the mixed crowd of Gryffindor supporters almost drowned out McGonagall's fury. Avery scowled in Lee's direction.
"The Quaffle now seized up by Chaser Strakus of Slytherin. He passes it to Bornholm, who throws to Pritchard. Pritchard to Strakus and back...whoohoo! Nice interception there by Katie Bell! You go, girl! She passes to Johnson, Johnson to Bell. Spinnet- Johnson- back again- no! Pritchard of Slytherin snatches it away. He zooms up the pitch there...damn, ducks the Bluder Fred Weasley sent his way, and...oh no! Slytherin score!"
Harry's stomach dropped a notch at this announcement, and the disappointment of three quarters of the school was obvious. Still no sign of the Snitch for either him or Malfoy. Malfoy glared at him at this point, smirking viciously.
"Give up now, Potter!" he called. Harry scowled back.
"And miss the chance to beat you? Not likely, Malfoy!"
"You never had the chance in the first place!"
Harry turned away them, determination to find the Snitch renewed greatly.
*****
Shannon stood at the largest window in the Gryffindor Tower, squinting out in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. It was partially obscured, and she could barely make out the players zooming around apart from their brightly-coloured robes. She sighed and pressed her face closer to the glass, her breath making steamy clouds on the cooler panes.
I must be the only person up here, she thought. How stupid am I?
Not very, a second voice in her mind replied. You could be down there if Harry hadn't come up into the dorm and read your dream book...
What did he read though? Shannon asked herself. I don't know, and the only thing he's bothered me about all week is getting me to talk to him.
But it was still wrong, the second voice added. He still...well, he went up there and read it. If you hadn't have found him...
Well, I'm not suffering because of him, Shannon decided as she pulled back from the window. I can still go there and watch a match and support my House, and I don't have to talk to him or cheer for him specifically.
Resolved, Shannon left the room.
*****
If Harry had thought the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch final in his third year was a dirty game, it was nothing compared to how this match was turning out. Fifteen minutes on and neither Seeker had found the Snitch, but Slytherin had found two more goals and Gryffindor only one.
"so here we are," Lee groaned. "The score is thirty-ten to Slytherin, and the Quaffle is in possession of Bornholm. He passes to-wait! Katie Bell of Gryffindor intercepts and zooms away! Nice one, Katie! Passes to Spinnet- passes to Johnson- Johnson dodges Beaters George Weasley and Bole, swerves Strakus. She's approaching the goalposts now- COME ON ANGELINA! She prepares, she- THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"
Samuel Bornholm had swooped down on Angelina just as she prepared shoot, slamming his broom into her so hard that she dropped the Quaffle and very nearly fell off of her broom, which was sent spinning dangerously away from her previous position. She looked badly winded, from Harry's position at the other end of the pitch, and Madam Hooch was flying over, looking as outraged as Lee Jordan sounded.
"YOU CHEATING SCUMBAG! YOU ROTTEN, LOW-DOWN...WHOO! GO FRED!"
Fred Weasley had shot down as Madam Hooch awarded a penalty to Gryffindor and slammed his club so hard into the back of Bornholm's head that he fell of of his broom, only clinging on by his fingers. The screech of the woman's whistle was heard by everyone present and probably some not.
"A penalty to Gryffindor for the attack on their Chaser, and one to Slytherin for the attack on THEIR Chaser!" she yelled, as Bornholm clambered back onto his broom.
Angelina easily scored past the Slytherin Keeper, causing much whooping from Lee that was only beaten by the noise when Bornholm's shot was deflected by a spectacular save from Geoga.
Harry knew that he had to get the Snitch soon. The Slytherin team were good, and steadily getting better. He was still staying near to Malfoy, observing his every move as closely as he could whilst still aware of his surroundings enough to look for the golden ball himself. Not an easy task even if you cut off the rest of the match as he had.
In an obvious attempt to loose him, Malfoy twisted his direction off quickly towards the Gryffindor stands. Harry followed, intent on Malfoy until, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a dark-haired figure weaving their way to the front of the stands. It could have been anyone at all, but, for some reason, his senses told him different...
"Shannon?" he wondered aloud, voice no more than a whisper to himself. Suddenly, Lee's loud, frantic voice cut into his hesitation.
"And Slytherin Seeker Malfoy makes a dive! HAS HE SEEN THE SNITCH?"
Harry automatically jerked his broom around to see, horror seeping through his veins, Malfoy already about twelve feet below him, a malicious smirk twisting his pale features.
Immediately, Harry pushed his broom into a dangerous nose-dive angle and sped off, pushing his Firebolt to its limits to catch up with his blonde counterpart.
"And Gryffindor Seeker Potter is steadily catching up on Malfoy..."
The noise of everyone around him seemed to blur as much as the scenery as he whizzed past. The only things that were clear to him were Malfoy and the golden glimmer of the Snitch ahead.
He was five foot from Malfoy...two foot...level...
Malfoy suddenly slammed his broom against Harry's to try to knock him aside. Harry clung on grimly and returned the jolt, with the same lack of success.
"Prepare to loose, Potter!" he hissed. Harry ignored him, forcing his broom even further.
He reached out for the Snitch just as Malfoy did. They were completely equal: both about half an inch from victory, both too obscured by the other to succeed. Then Malfoy's arm shot out, reaching as far as possible, and his fingers...
Just brushed the surface of the ball.
Past the Snitch, Harry could see the ground hurtling towards them at a terrifying speed. Then suddenly, he had an idea...
As the earth neared them even more, he jumped.
Jumped from his Firebolt, although still clutching it in his left hand, and threw himself towards the Snitch. His right hand felt the smooth, cool gold, and then he fell to the ground. The Snitch beat its tiny wings feebly against his palm.
The match was over.
The crowd was in an uproar. Harry could barely think, the reality of what had happened scarcely dawning as his team landed, launching themselves on him in a laughing, sobbing heap. He ached horribly from the fall, but it didn't stop him grinning as they helped him up to the stands, through the waves of supporters streaming down to congratulate them. Through the confusion of bodies and noise, they made it to the stands, to lift the Quidditch Cup, victorious once more.
And when Harry looked down for his friends, he saw all of them there. All of them. Even Shannon.
And he grinned even wider.
*****
Shannon sat huddled on a chair, viewing the celebrations filling the common room with a happy smile. She'd never actually seen anything this big before: in her old school, the muggle town just below them at the foot of the mountains meant that Quidditch matches were usually few and far between as a precaution. Everybody here was just so...euphoric. People were laughing and chatting and dancing. Fred and George had even disappeared down to the kitchens to get some food for them (although she was staying well away from anything that looked like a prank).
A small thud alerted her and she looked around to see Harry placing a bottle of Butterbeer on the table in front of her. He was watching her with an expression almost like a worried animal: fearful and ready to run at the sign of danger. Without thinking about it, her heart softened in pity for him, although she kept her voice at a not-so-friendly tone.
"Hello."
"Hi." He gestured to the seat next to her. "Is anyone sitting here?"
She shook her head. "No. You can sit there if you want to."
He did so, with a small smile, and there was a silence between them for a few moments. Shannon took to offered drink and opened it, taking a few swigs before talking again.
"Nice win." she congratulated. He seemed to be relaxing just slightly.
"Thanks." Then he took a deep breath. "Look, Shannon, I'm so, so s-"
"Sorry." she finished for him. She nodded at his surprised look. "Yeah, I know."
"I really mean it, Shannon. I...I know I shouldn't have been up there, but I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help you-"
"By reading something of mine that was private?"
"I- I wanted to understand what was happening. I was wrong, and I'm sorry, but please, please can you try to forgive me?"
Shannon studied him for a long while before cracking a small smile. "Alright. I guess I can try. Although I'm not promising anything immediate."
Harry looked immensely relieved, and happy as well. "Thank you so much, Shan."
"Although..." she said slowly, causing him to glance rapidly at her, which made her grin. "If you were to do me a favour...say, get me some of that chocolate over there, it might help how fast I forgive you."
*****
Lord Voldemort stroked Nagini's head almost lovingly as he sat upon his throne, musing whilst devoid of human company. The great acid-green snake hissed to him.
"Soon, Nagini," he replied. "As soon as an opportunity presents itself, we shall take it."
Nagini stared up at her master, making a noise as if to ask when such a thing should be.
"We must be patient, my friend." the Dark Lord replied. "Without patience, this plan will not work. But I swear that, when one of his friends is alone and can be seized for bait, Potter will come to his fate. And then," Here he broke off briefly, grinning evilly down at the snake, "You shall feast upon his corpse."
Nagini's large eyes sparked with wicked delight and anticipation.
*****
OK people, another chapter done! Review please! And please be patient for new chapters, I promise I'll update as soon as I can, but I'm usually really busy. Again, major apologies!
Disclaimer: Me no do disclaimers!!!
Dedications: Oh heck, all my reviewers again. To hpfan1750- I agree, they are kinda depressing, aren't they? Well, for the moment anyways. I really do apologise for lack of updates.
Harry Potter and the Crystal of Dreams.
Somehow, and Harry swore he'd never know how, the teachers managed to squeeze the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch final into the busy schedule. When the Saturday before the pending exam week dawned, Harry felt as though a mass of Slytherin serpents were writhing full-heartedly in his guts.
It didn't help that his mind was torn between the final, the weird dreams, his O.W.L.s, and the fact that the newest member of their quartet was no longer speaking to him. For the last week or so, Shannon had ignored him completely, not listening to or responding to what he had to say, and looking right through him when he was in front of her. Hermione said that she just needed time to cool down, which was (she said, with a small frown of disapproval at him) perfectly reasonable. Harry despaired because, no matter how many times he tried to apologise, his actions were automatically spurned. Ron thought that everything would sort itself out soon enough, although Harry noticed his friend's confidence in this gradually diminishing every day that passed with the rift still intact.
And then there were the dreams. Harry didn't want to even admit it to himself, but they had been becoming steadily more horrific. He saw his parents, his friends, even people he hardly recognised from around school, dying painfully and slowly...either at his own hands or the hands of Voldemort, unable to stop it. And every time he saw the torturous deaths, he would awake with his scar blazing in a pain that threatened to burst open his skull.
So, thanks to this ever-growing mound of problems the Fates had decided to dish up for him, it was no surprise that he wouldn't eat. However, due to extensive protests, he picked at a piece of toast, shooting occasional looks across at Shannon, working her way methodically and steadily through a plate of fried food. She kept her eyes firmly averted to her plate and her concentration outside of the Quidditch talk. Eventually, just as he was about to raise enough courage to speak to her, she stood up abruptly, turning to leave.
"Shannon?" he asked. She ignored him. Hermione looked up at this.
"Shannon, aren't you coming with us to the stands?" she asked. "Are you going to catch up with us later?"
"No, I have some Arithmancy work to do." She shrugged. "I'll skip the match."
"What?" Ron yelled, horrified at the mere thought. "You can't miss a Quidditch final, especially not one between Gryffindor and Slytherin! It goes against...well, everything good in the world! You're getting worse than Hermione!"
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
Shannon laughed slightly. "Sorry guys, Dad is gonna kill me if my grades for the O.W.L.s aren't high enough, and I'd really like to see my next birthday. Catch you later."
They watched her leave, the doors banging shut behind her. At that moment, Malfoy halted briefly in walking past, flanked by his usual cronies and an additional gang of Slytherins. He sneered at the Gryffindors, all chattering animatedly.
"Enjoy this whilst you can, Potter," he said coldly. "You're about to make an idiot of yourself in front of the whole school."
Harry met his eyes levelly and smiled with equal coldness. In a hostile voice, he replied simply, "Don't count on it."
*****
Angelina gripped the hand of Kurt Baddock, the new Slytherin captain, quickly before dropping it again. Madam Hooch was darting quick glances between the two, ignoring the roaring crowds in the surrounding seats.
"I want a good clean game, as always," she said simply, making sure her every word was clear. "No fouling at all, under any circumstances."
Baddock leered at Angelina, and she didn't attempt to hide her disgust. Harry glanced across at Malfoy, who smirked hatefully at him before looking away.
"Mount your brooms..." Madam Hooch was saying. "On my whistle. Three...two...one..."
There was a short, sharp blast on the silver whistle in her hand and the fourteen players rose into the sky. Harry looked around, slightly giddy with excited nerves, at the huge banners and streamers admist the colourful supporters. Anyone decked out in red, blue or yellow was cheering the Gryffindors on, whilst those in green were Slytherin fans.
And, of course, no match, final or not, would be complete without Lee Jordan's commentating.
"So here we are," he yelled via the magical megaphone. "At the Quidditch final in which Gryffindor are totally going to kick Slytherin's a-"
Harry grinned as he faintly heard McGonagall scream, "Jordan!"
"Alright, fine. Gryffindor will kick Slytherin's PROSTERIOR, as my human rights to freedom of speech are being mauled...no, sorry Professor, just kidding!"
Immediately, Harry began to scan the pitch for any sign of the Golden Snitch. The best thing to do, he decided, is to take Angelina's advice in the changing rooms and end the match as quickly as I can. His grin widened as he remembered the twins' protests that they wanted to beat the Slytherins as long as they could.
"OK, the Quaffle is in Gryffindor possession at once, taken by Chaser Katie Bell. She passes neatly to Alicia Spinnet, who shoots straight back. Pass to Angelina Johnson, who takes aim and...dammit! She misses, due to a save on the part of Keeper Avery. Is it just me, or does this guy look like a gorilla more every year?"
The roar of positive response from the mixed crowd of Gryffindor supporters almost drowned out McGonagall's fury. Avery scowled in Lee's direction.
"The Quaffle now seized up by Chaser Strakus of Slytherin. He passes it to Bornholm, who throws to Pritchard. Pritchard to Strakus and back...whoohoo! Nice interception there by Katie Bell! You go, girl! She passes to Johnson, Johnson to Bell. Spinnet- Johnson- back again- no! Pritchard of Slytherin snatches it away. He zooms up the pitch there...damn, ducks the Bluder Fred Weasley sent his way, and...oh no! Slytherin score!"
Harry's stomach dropped a notch at this announcement, and the disappointment of three quarters of the school was obvious. Still no sign of the Snitch for either him or Malfoy. Malfoy glared at him at this point, smirking viciously.
"Give up now, Potter!" he called. Harry scowled back.
"And miss the chance to beat you? Not likely, Malfoy!"
"You never had the chance in the first place!"
Harry turned away them, determination to find the Snitch renewed greatly.
*****
Shannon stood at the largest window in the Gryffindor Tower, squinting out in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. It was partially obscured, and she could barely make out the players zooming around apart from their brightly-coloured robes. She sighed and pressed her face closer to the glass, her breath making steamy clouds on the cooler panes.
I must be the only person up here, she thought. How stupid am I?
Not very, a second voice in her mind replied. You could be down there if Harry hadn't come up into the dorm and read your dream book...
What did he read though? Shannon asked herself. I don't know, and the only thing he's bothered me about all week is getting me to talk to him.
But it was still wrong, the second voice added. He still...well, he went up there and read it. If you hadn't have found him...
Well, I'm not suffering because of him, Shannon decided as she pulled back from the window. I can still go there and watch a match and support my House, and I don't have to talk to him or cheer for him specifically.
Resolved, Shannon left the room.
*****
If Harry had thought the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch final in his third year was a dirty game, it was nothing compared to how this match was turning out. Fifteen minutes on and neither Seeker had found the Snitch, but Slytherin had found two more goals and Gryffindor only one.
"so here we are," Lee groaned. "The score is thirty-ten to Slytherin, and the Quaffle is in possession of Bornholm. He passes to-wait! Katie Bell of Gryffindor intercepts and zooms away! Nice one, Katie! Passes to Spinnet- passes to Johnson- Johnson dodges Beaters George Weasley and Bole, swerves Strakus. She's approaching the goalposts now- COME ON ANGELINA! She prepares, she- THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"
Samuel Bornholm had swooped down on Angelina just as she prepared shoot, slamming his broom into her so hard that she dropped the Quaffle and very nearly fell off of her broom, which was sent spinning dangerously away from her previous position. She looked badly winded, from Harry's position at the other end of the pitch, and Madam Hooch was flying over, looking as outraged as Lee Jordan sounded.
"YOU CHEATING SCUMBAG! YOU ROTTEN, LOW-DOWN...WHOO! GO FRED!"
Fred Weasley had shot down as Madam Hooch awarded a penalty to Gryffindor and slammed his club so hard into the back of Bornholm's head that he fell of of his broom, only clinging on by his fingers. The screech of the woman's whistle was heard by everyone present and probably some not.
"A penalty to Gryffindor for the attack on their Chaser, and one to Slytherin for the attack on THEIR Chaser!" she yelled, as Bornholm clambered back onto his broom.
Angelina easily scored past the Slytherin Keeper, causing much whooping from Lee that was only beaten by the noise when Bornholm's shot was deflected by a spectacular save from Geoga.
Harry knew that he had to get the Snitch soon. The Slytherin team were good, and steadily getting better. He was still staying near to Malfoy, observing his every move as closely as he could whilst still aware of his surroundings enough to look for the golden ball himself. Not an easy task even if you cut off the rest of the match as he had.
In an obvious attempt to loose him, Malfoy twisted his direction off quickly towards the Gryffindor stands. Harry followed, intent on Malfoy until, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a dark-haired figure weaving their way to the front of the stands. It could have been anyone at all, but, for some reason, his senses told him different...
"Shannon?" he wondered aloud, voice no more than a whisper to himself. Suddenly, Lee's loud, frantic voice cut into his hesitation.
"And Slytherin Seeker Malfoy makes a dive! HAS HE SEEN THE SNITCH?"
Harry automatically jerked his broom around to see, horror seeping through his veins, Malfoy already about twelve feet below him, a malicious smirk twisting his pale features.
Immediately, Harry pushed his broom into a dangerous nose-dive angle and sped off, pushing his Firebolt to its limits to catch up with his blonde counterpart.
"And Gryffindor Seeker Potter is steadily catching up on Malfoy..."
The noise of everyone around him seemed to blur as much as the scenery as he whizzed past. The only things that were clear to him were Malfoy and the golden glimmer of the Snitch ahead.
He was five foot from Malfoy...two foot...level...
Malfoy suddenly slammed his broom against Harry's to try to knock him aside. Harry clung on grimly and returned the jolt, with the same lack of success.
"Prepare to loose, Potter!" he hissed. Harry ignored him, forcing his broom even further.
He reached out for the Snitch just as Malfoy did. They were completely equal: both about half an inch from victory, both too obscured by the other to succeed. Then Malfoy's arm shot out, reaching as far as possible, and his fingers...
Just brushed the surface of the ball.
Past the Snitch, Harry could see the ground hurtling towards them at a terrifying speed. Then suddenly, he had an idea...
As the earth neared them even more, he jumped.
Jumped from his Firebolt, although still clutching it in his left hand, and threw himself towards the Snitch. His right hand felt the smooth, cool gold, and then he fell to the ground. The Snitch beat its tiny wings feebly against his palm.
The match was over.
The crowd was in an uproar. Harry could barely think, the reality of what had happened scarcely dawning as his team landed, launching themselves on him in a laughing, sobbing heap. He ached horribly from the fall, but it didn't stop him grinning as they helped him up to the stands, through the waves of supporters streaming down to congratulate them. Through the confusion of bodies and noise, they made it to the stands, to lift the Quidditch Cup, victorious once more.
And when Harry looked down for his friends, he saw all of them there. All of them. Even Shannon.
And he grinned even wider.
*****
Shannon sat huddled on a chair, viewing the celebrations filling the common room with a happy smile. She'd never actually seen anything this big before: in her old school, the muggle town just below them at the foot of the mountains meant that Quidditch matches were usually few and far between as a precaution. Everybody here was just so...euphoric. People were laughing and chatting and dancing. Fred and George had even disappeared down to the kitchens to get some food for them (although she was staying well away from anything that looked like a prank).
A small thud alerted her and she looked around to see Harry placing a bottle of Butterbeer on the table in front of her. He was watching her with an expression almost like a worried animal: fearful and ready to run at the sign of danger. Without thinking about it, her heart softened in pity for him, although she kept her voice at a not-so-friendly tone.
"Hello."
"Hi." He gestured to the seat next to her. "Is anyone sitting here?"
She shook her head. "No. You can sit there if you want to."
He did so, with a small smile, and there was a silence between them for a few moments. Shannon took to offered drink and opened it, taking a few swigs before talking again.
"Nice win." she congratulated. He seemed to be relaxing just slightly.
"Thanks." Then he took a deep breath. "Look, Shannon, I'm so, so s-"
"Sorry." she finished for him. She nodded at his surprised look. "Yeah, I know."
"I really mean it, Shannon. I...I know I shouldn't have been up there, but I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help you-"
"By reading something of mine that was private?"
"I- I wanted to understand what was happening. I was wrong, and I'm sorry, but please, please can you try to forgive me?"
Shannon studied him for a long while before cracking a small smile. "Alright. I guess I can try. Although I'm not promising anything immediate."
Harry looked immensely relieved, and happy as well. "Thank you so much, Shan."
"Although..." she said slowly, causing him to glance rapidly at her, which made her grin. "If you were to do me a favour...say, get me some of that chocolate over there, it might help how fast I forgive you."
*****
Lord Voldemort stroked Nagini's head almost lovingly as he sat upon his throne, musing whilst devoid of human company. The great acid-green snake hissed to him.
"Soon, Nagini," he replied. "As soon as an opportunity presents itself, we shall take it."
Nagini stared up at her master, making a noise as if to ask when such a thing should be.
"We must be patient, my friend." the Dark Lord replied. "Without patience, this plan will not work. But I swear that, when one of his friends is alone and can be seized for bait, Potter will come to his fate. And then," Here he broke off briefly, grinning evilly down at the snake, "You shall feast upon his corpse."
Nagini's large eyes sparked with wicked delight and anticipation.
*****
OK people, another chapter done! Review please! And please be patient for new chapters, I promise I'll update as soon as I can, but I'm usually really busy. Again, major apologies!