Notes: All credit for the HP storyline and characters goes to the wonderfully gifted JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing some ingredients and throwing them in a blender for a different flavor.

And now…on with the tale…Chapter three...redux...

"Corruos Accidos!" The target fell back on another girl. It seemed harmless enough.

The young man couldn't believe it as he recalled his earlier doing. What drove him to hit that tall fellow with such a spell earlier? Jealousy? No. It can't be. And he just learned about that spell too. Who know how soon he'd put it to use?

'I don't have feelings for her anymore, right?'

He thought about his actions over and over again. It was much better thinking about it rather than dwelling on the disaster known as Snape's Potions class. Sighing, he rounded the corner, and entered a corridor bustling with many other students. He noted a huge number of them were gathering around something with eagerness. As if it were a magnet, he soon found himself drawn to the source of the gathering and stood up on his toes to see above the other heads in front of him and discovered what the commotion was about.

Event: Hogwarts Winter Solstice Ball

Date: Second Saturday of December

Attire: Formal Dress Robes

Invitation: Fourth Years and Above

Featured Bands: Wicked Sisters, Enchanted Voices

'Another ball?'

The room was abuzz with excitement as students chattered about who they wanted to ask and go with, and what they were going to wear.

"I want to ask George!"

"Hm...I've sorta fancied Samantha from Ravenclaw for awhile now."

"There's Draco. But he's Slytherin and that Pansy girl is always with him"

"I want to go with McGonagall!" That certainly served well to catch some stares and induced plenty of muffled laughter.

Harry stood still affixed to the parchment against the wall detailing the ball. Does he want to go again this year? Well he's not required to, he thought, at least not like last year's ball during the TriWizard Tournament.

A few feet away, he faintly heard several young men laughing and jeering.

"Sean! This will be your chance! That is, unless you start loosing your footing and fall again," one of them chuckled.

"Hey that wasn't my fault! And it looked like Cho liked the rose and I made her laugh!"

'Did he say Cho?'

Harry narrowed his eyes and recognized Sean as the recipient of his earlier…mischief. It appears that he was still a bit soiled after falling onto Samantha and then to the ground. Although he really shouldn't, Harry couldn't help but grin and was somewhat pleased with himself for his earlier deed.

"Angelina! Angelina!" Fred's voice boomed. He zoomed past Harry to catch up to their Gryffindor teammate. "Do you want to go with me to the ball?"

Harry sighed and turned around to head back to the Gryffindor rooms. The ball would be a little over two weeks away—a few days to decide whether or not he wants to go and the rest of the time to figure out who he would want to go with.

"Hey Harry!" a familiar Weasley voice called out from behind him. Ron and Hermione were fast approaching him. "Another ball! Blimey! Well are you going?"

"I…don't know...We aren't required to do so…" he mumbled.

"Well Harry...this isn't like last year's ball. You aren't required to go with anyone if you're worried about that. You can just go by yourself," Hermione piped in.

"Yes well…Hermione…are you going with anyone?" asked Harry.

"Nobody has asked me yet and –"

"Hermione! I want you to go with me!"

Both Harry and Hermione turned to Ron who was beet-red after asking Hermione to the ball outright. The brown haired young lady also soon found herself blushing as well after Ron's outburst finally sank in.

"At least you asked early enough this time, Ron Weasley," she managed to stutter out. "And yes, even though it's not really the proper way to go about asking, I will go to the ball with you as your date."

'That leaves me with no one to really ask now. There's Ginny…but…' Harry thought to himself. Harry pondered on this as he walked with his two best friends back to the Gryffindor tower.

Cho's face kept popping in his mind as he tried to think of someone who he can ask to the ball. He can't ask her. Not after what happened last year. Cedric's dead and he blamed himself for it. Cho probably blamed him, he thought. Seeing her with her puffy red eyes in the Great Hall after everything that happened haunted him. He shouldn't blame himself, Dumbledore said, as did Hermione and Ron, though he soon found out that it was easier said than done. The looks he received left and right after coming back to Hogwarts said it all. The Ministry of Magic dubbed him pretty much insane so most of the magical world thought of him as such as well. Voldermort back, what a bunch of nonsense that would be, many of them would say. If it weren't for Ron and Hermione, he figured he would have a much harder time dealing with the stares people gave him or the whisperings going on about behind his back. Maybe he'd also start believing he was insane himself.

Thankfully, quidditch season is back. His excellent abilities to fly always elevated him above his troubles, his worries, and his insecurities. In the air, he is Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker, not the Boy Who Lived. Up in the air, he wasn't known for his scar or his inexplicable relationships with the Dark Lord.

He looked outside and noted that there were at least two more hours left before sunset. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "Hey you two, I'm going to head off and practice some quidditch moves while there's still some light left outside. Do you want to practice with me, Ron?"

"Sure! Oh...wait...I promised Fred and George that I'd test some new…stuff for them. I can't back out," Ron frowned. "I'm sorry, Harry. As much as I'd like to, those two would victimize me with their pranks if I backed out." Hermione coughed and giggled.

"Oh, that's alright, Ron. I guess I'm on my own. I'll see you both back at the Great Hall for dinner?"

"We'll save you a spot, Harry," Hermione said.

Half an hour later, Harry strode purposely toward the seemingly empty quidditch pitch. He paused and spent a few minutes just looking at the quidditch pitch. It stood alone, yet towering above its surroundings. Harry closed his eyes and imagined hearing the cheers and jeers of the spectators, the lively support from the Houses, the brooms that sped at alarmingly fast speeds, the grunts and cries of pain that the bludger would cause, the Seekers feinting to throw the other Seekers off, the Seekers chasing after the prized snitch, and then Madame Hooch's whistle signaling the end of the game. It was all music to him.

'If I never become an Auror, I'd hope to be at least a professional seeker,' he thought to himself.

He smiled and took a deep breath and continued on his way. As soon as he stepped into the field, he vaulted himself upward on his trusty Firebolt. Today was a good day to try a few tricks in preparation for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw.

'Cho.'

Harry suddenly stopped midair as thoughts of the Ravenclaw seeker entered his mind once again. Her dark, long hair. Her small, lithe figure. Her captivating eyes. Those same eyes, red and puffy last year and her tear-streaked face.

The Gryffindor boy shook his head in frustration, trying to shake the image from his troubled mind. "ARGH!" He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "Think quidditch. Not Cho. Not last year." After one more resounding gasp for air, Harry dove down steeply all of a sudden and sped rapidly toward the ground. With about twenty feet of air left between him and the ground, he grasped his broomstick tightly and started to pull of the dive with all his strength. Determination written across his face, his muscles tensed and strained against the pressure. Like a crazed devil, he exerted plenty of strength as he tried to pull out, without a trace of fear or hesitation in his resolve.

Fifteen feet.

Ten feet.

Five feet.

Three feet.

A foot.

Success was rewarded to him as he pulled out of his dive, barely above a foot from the ground, and sped perpendicularly from his original diving angle and across the quidditch pitch, as if driven mad with unquenchable need for speed. His body ached from the strain caused by his inane stunt but he didn't care. He felt the rush again and forgot everything else. He and his broomstick were one. And this he repeated, over and over, at several locations on the field, ignoring the sweat that clung to his body and aches in his muscles.

Unbeknownst to the soaring Gryffindor seeker, the eyes that captivated him have been watching him silently for quite some time, semi-hidden behind a towering stand in the field. Full of admiration, disbelief, confusion, and something else she could not discern, her eyes followed his every move. Her presence undetected, she continued to watch Harry well into the sunset and quickly left to go back into Hogwarts Castle before he exited the quidditch pitch.

-TBC