DISCLAIMER: I own nothing – it all belongs to JK Rowling.

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On his way back to the common-room that evening, Harry stopped at the general noticeboard to check the times of the Gryffindor-Slytherin game. It was scheduled for the Saturday afternoon, with Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff playing in the morning. Excellent, he thought, that'll also give me a chance to study the other teams so we can see how to play against them in the Quidditch Cup games.

Feeling a bit exhausted after the weeks of Occlumency, Legilimency and masses of homework, Harry decided to take the evening off to relax a bit and think about strategies and plays for the game against Slytherin. With a little effort, he persuaded Ron to join him, to Hermione's disgust.

Poring over Beating the Beaters: Unstoppable Ploys for Winning Strategies while stroking a purring Crookshanks, Harry glanced up and saw Parvati. She was reading, cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, and was slowly plaiting her hair. Mesmerised, Harry watched as she wove the three skeins of hair … over and under… over and under. He blinked when she came to the end of her waist-length braid, and tied it off with a piece of ribbon.

"Er … Parvati?" he said, getting up and going over to her. "Would you mind doing that again?"

She looked up at him, annoyed. "Doing what again?" she said, a little shortly. They hadn't really spoken since she'd asked him to the Quidditch Ball.

"Um – plait your hair," he said, a bit embarrassed. "I've just thought of something, but I need to see it again."

Looking curiously at him, she undid her hair and then started plaiting it again. Suddenly, something fell into place. "Ron!" said Harry excitedly. "Get over here and look at this!"

Grumbling, Ron got up and came over. "You are definitely losing it, Harry," he said. "What are you talking about?"

"See that plaiting action?" Harry said. "What if we can get our three Chasers to do a similar maneuver on the field? Over and under and back again, always passing the Quaffle, someone always there to receive it. If they're quick enough, and if Colin and Dennis can keep the Bludgers away from them – the Slytherins won't be able to block anyone for long enough to get the Quaffle!"

Ron stared at Harry, and then started to grin. "I think it might just work, but they'll have to be really fast," he said enthusiastically. "We'll call it the 'Gryffindor Braid Formation'!"

And so their new Quidditch play was invented. The three Gryffindor Chasers took to it like Grindylows to water, and within a few practice sessions had it down pat. They whizzed down the field so fast they were a blur, passing the Quaffle to each other every few seconds while performing the complicated over-and-under action. Ron couldn't catch stop them scoring goals, as he was never quite sure who was going to take a shot at it.

"I'm just bloody glad they're on our side, Harry!" he said, panting, after Katie had scored her fourth goal in as many minutes. "This is humiliating!"

"I think they've got it!" Harry shouted in delight, punching the air with jubilation. "You girls are the BEST!"

Colin and Dennis Creevey were cheering from above, where they had been practicing keeping the Bludgers away from the Chasers. They had improved beyond measure, and while they weren't quite up to the Weasley twins' standard yet, they were doing really well.

Before Harry knew it, the weeks had flown by and it was the Friday before the "friendlies". He made his way to Dumbledore's office that evening, so hyped up by the thought of the games the next day he didn't know how he was going to focus on his Legilimency lesson. He met Lupin in front of the gargoyle.

"I've got a new victim for you tonight," said Lupin tiredly. He was looking pale and wan, and Harry was immediately concerned. "I'm not up to it – and anyway, you're getting too good for me. Thought I'd give you a bit of a challenge."

"Are you OK, Remus?" he asked worriedly. "No offence, but you look awful."

"I feel it," said Lupin. "The wolfsbane potion is bloody ghastly and although it has the desired effect, it makes me feel nauseous all the time. Come on – let's go."

After giving the password to the guarding gargoyle ("Sugar Quill"), they ascended the stone staircase to Dumbledore's office. There, waiting for them, was Dumbledore with Mad-Eye Moody.

"Evening, Potter," said Moody gruffly. "I hear you're quite good at this Legilimency thing, then. Lupin thought you'd like to take a crack at me for a bit of exercise."

Harry looked uncertainly at Lupin. "Are you sure? I mean … Mad-Eye's a trained Auror! Surely I won't be able to get into his head?"

"Well, Harry, going by what Remus has been telling us – you're certainly up for the task," said Dumbledore softly. "If you don't mind, I'm here as an observer. I'd like to see what you can do."

"I can't block you out any more, Harry. You've gotten too good at this for me," said Lupin, rubbing his eyes.

Harry nodded nervously, then faced Moody. He swallowed – that revolving eye was hard to focus on, but he'd give it a bash anyway. He raised his wand, pointed it at Moody and said: "Legilimens!"

He felt the usual slip-sliding feeling of skidding along at speed in blackness, and then with a rush, Moody's thoughts and memories were on him …

A younger Moody, nose and eye intact, was facing a circle of wizards whose faces were covered with black hoods … one of them raised his wand, shouting "Avada Ked…" … Moody used the force of his mind to shove him away as far as possible before summoning his wand and hitting them all with an Impediment Jinx … Barty Crouch and Peter Pettigrew, overwhelming Moody and shoving him into a compartment of his own trunk … a sick feeling of helplessness during an indeterminable time in the trunk, mind floating with the Imperius Curse …

With a thump, Harry found himself shut out and back inside his own body. He opened his eyes, gasping, and looked into Moody's.

"You were right, Lupin, the boy is good – very good," said Moody, who was also looking shaken. "I haven't experienced that for a long time. It's been years since anyone was able to get in."

Dumbledore was looking triumphant. "Harry, I do believe that the time has come," he said. "We can think about allowing you to start looking for Voldemort. But before we do that, I need to teach you some defensive tricks to help you, in case he figures out what you're doing and tries to attack you."

They spent the rest of the lesson learning how to combine Occlumency blocking tactics with Legilimency, and Harry's head was throbbing unmercifully by the end of the lesson. For the first time in a long time, his scar began to ache. He rubbed it unconsciously.

"Scar hurting, Harry?" asked Lupin.

"Yes," said Harry. "The last time it did was …" He broke off, remembering that he wasn't supposed to know that Karkaroff was dead. He looked guiltily at Dumbledore.

"Well?" said Moody.

Deciding there was nothing else for it but to tell the truth, Harry blurted: "The last time was when Karkaroff died."

Dumbledore looked at him over the tops of his glasses. "Hmm," he said. "I was wondering if you'd found out about that. And nothing since then, Harry?"

Relieved that he was getting off so lightly, Harry shook his head. "I haven't had nightmares for ages, either," he admitted. "Well, nothing like the ones I was having when Voldemort was planting them in my head, anyway."

"Still dreaming about the Department of Mysteries?" Lupin said sympathetically. Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Me too," said Moody unexpectedly. Harry glanced at him, surprised. "Just because I'm old doesn't mean I don't get affected by death, Potter," he added grumpily. "In fact, with some of the stuff I've seen, it weighs on me more and more …"

"Why aren't I getting more from Voldemort, Professor?" Harry asked Dumbledore anxiously. "It used to happen all the time – and now, when he's back to full power, it seems to have gotten less!"

"I believe that Voldemort has become quite nervous of you, Harry," said Dumbledore, after surveying Harry for a few minutes. "He realizes that you are no easy target, and he wants to limit contact with you until he is ready."

"Well, I'm ready now," said Harry. "When do we start?"

"We will wait, until you feel something from him again and we know that in a moment of weakness, he has let something slip," said Dumbledore. "We will wait."

Harry dragged himself back to Gryffindor tower, his head thumping and scar burning. Going into the common-room, he was amazed to find it deserted. Slumping onto the sofa in front of the fire, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a quiet voice behind him said: "How are you feeling?"

"Ginny," said Harry in relief. "You scared me! Where is everyone?"

"Katie ordered everyone to bed early so they'll be in good fighting spirit for tomorrow," she said. "I just came back down to wait for you. How're the lessons going?"

"Almost too well – they let me have a run at Moody tonight," said Harry. "I have to tell you – what that man has been through would fill whole books."

"You got into his head?" exclaimed Ginny. "Wow, Harry, you must be good – he's really experienced!"

"So they tell me," said Harry, rubbing his temples.

"Well, this might cheer you up," Ginny said, pulling a tray with a flask and several mugs on it towards her. "Dobby was just here, and he left you this hot chocolate. He said it might help you to sleep well tonight, because he hears you're 'fighting the dark wizards' tomorrow."

Harry laughed. "Dobby really hates Malfoy, doesn't he?" he said affectionately. "Don't blame him, after what that family put him though …"

He gratefully accepted the mug from Ginny and took a sip. Dobby had really outdone himself – the drink was rich, sweet and creamy, and mildly spiced with cinnamon. Harry leaned back on the couch, letting his head loll slightly as he closed his eyes.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then Harry felt himself starting to drift off. Forcing his eyes open, he found Ginny curled up right next to him, watching him closely. Her brown eyes were inscrutable.

"What?" he said sleepily.

"I was just thinking how different you are now to when I first met you," she said softly. "You were … well, you were just a lost little boy then. Sometimes, you seem so hardened and tough I can't believe it's you, and then I catch a glimpse of the old Harry when you smile."

Harry looked at her appraisingly. Ginny gazed up at him, and then slowly leaned against his shoulder. His heart started thumping wildly.

Tentatively, he lifted his arm and put it around her, and was encouraged when she moved even closer. Harry raised his free hand and started moving it towards hers. He was just tangling his fingers with hers, his stomach flipping over and over, when the door to the boys' dormitory opened.

They flew apart and by the time Ron appeared on the bottom step, they were sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

Ron looked a bit surprised to see them both there, and then stumped over to them. "I can't sleep," he said, flopping down on the couch between them. "I guess you're also both a bit nervous, too?"

"More than you know, mate, more than you know," said Harry fervently, not daring to risk a glance in Ginny's direction. He was thankful that the room was so dark – he was quite sure his face was burning bright red.

"Well, I'd better be going to bed," stammered Ginny. "It's more than my life is worth if Katie finds out I'm not asleep already. 'Night!" She glanced at Harry as she hurried past him, and her fingers brushed his arm briefly.

"'Night," said Ron. "Where'd you get that hot chocolate, Harry?"

"From Dobby – here, have a mug," muttered Harry, both relieved and annoyed at Ron's interruption. "C'mon, bring it upstairs with you – after all, we're tangling with a serpent tomorrow so we'd better get some sleep."