******Author's Note—Hello all! My apologies on the extreme lateness of this chapter. Here's the problem. You know how I always write a few chapters ahead before I submit? Well it's a bloody good thing I do, because I found a major plot hole looming on the horizon. In order to mend it, I had to rearrange the timing of a few key events, and had to rewrite about 75 pages of text! (FYI: As of Chapter 16, there were 201 pages online. I have 321 pages on my computer.) I think I've managed to salvage things... And hopefully, this will be the last major delay, and we'll be back on a good old weekly schedule. I moving back to the USA in about 3 months, and I'd really like the whole story to be finished and online by then. So keep your fingers crossed, and maybe this'll all be over by August!
On another note, I turned another year older this week!
Enjoy the new chapter, and I'll see you next week, promise,
Neoepiphany*******
********Edited to correct accidentally switched dialogue lines. Thanks to Iavala for pointing this out.********
Chapter Seventeen
The "Note" Incident
The mood in the Gryffindor common room was decidedly gloomy that night. The team sat around, feeling low-spirited, irritated, and, in more than one case, horribly cheated. Harry felt worse than all of them; he was both angry with the professors for ending the game, guilty about having let down the team, and overcome with a feeling of melancholy. The team sat in a desolate ring before the hearth.
The rest of the Gryffindors were remarkably supportive. "Don't worry," Neville said to Harry and Ron as they stared angrily into the common room fire. "No one blames you. Everyone knows you wanted to keep playing."
"Yeah, and it's not like you lost," Parvati Patil added, sympathetically.
"Those rules were unfair. That's all it is. They were totally unfair," Eva said, looking at Ron, who nodded. Ron seemed to have lost the ability to speak coherently without railing against McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Madame Hooch, so, after a few not-so-polite remarks from the other Gryffindors, he had opted to avoid speaking at all.
"It was my fault they added those rules," Harry grumbled.
"No it wasn't," said Hermione sharply. "It was Lord Voldemort's fault, and you know it." There was a shocked silence for a moment.
"If only I'd caught the snitch," Harry sighed.
"If you'd had more time," Ginny said, and let the rest of the sentence go unsaid.
"If it had been a nicer day," Lavender Brown said, breaking the silence, "then you would have been able to see better, and it would have been different."
"Well, the feast will cheer you up," Hermione said. "Come on, you lot."
Harry had forgotten about the Halloween feast, but now, he remembered it with a surge of dread. He really didn't want to face the Slytherins—or the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, for that matter—after such an embarrassing fiasco.
"Come on," Hermione said, pulling an irritated-looking Ron to his feet. "Everyone knows it wasn't your fault, and you'll feel loads better with some food in you."
"No I won't," Ron said glumly.
"Come on," she said, pushing him toward the portrait hole. The team stood slowly and followed her through the portrait hole, the rest of the Gryffindors trailing behind like the tail on a very slow-moving comet.
Harry had expected gloating and mocking from the Slytherins. After all, everybody knew that those rules had just been put in place to protect the great Harry Potter. If Harry hadn't been on the team—if he hadn't gone into Hogsmeade yesterday—it would have been a nice, ordinary game. The Halloween feast would be crowned by one team celebrating victory (probably Gryffindor), and another drowning their sorrows in flagons of pumpkin juice and plates of rich food.
To Harry's surprise, the Slytherins looked just as frustrated as the Gryffindors. The team was sitting together and glaring angrily at their plates, as though they had attempted to spite them in some way. Pansy Parkinson was leaning low over Malfoy, and, as they walked by, Harry distinctly heard her say "You know you could've have won, Draco, if it hadn't been for Potter and his special rules." Draco jabbed at something on his plate, his fork turned as though he were trying to kill whatever it was. Without looking up, he loudly said, "Ickle Potter must be happy that nothing happened to him on the big scary quidditch pitch. They knew we were going to beat them this time, that's all…"
"Ignore him," Hermione said, steering Ron away from the table.
The Gryffindors took their seats. Despite his moodiness, Harry had to admit that the Hall looked great. Thin banners of orange, black, and purple satin criss-crossed the air above the tables. There were four giant pumpkins, carved with frighteningly realistic trolls, dragons, and grotesque faces. Smaller pumpkins floated above the tables amid the candles, each with a leering face that bobbed up and down over them like nodding heads. Live bats fluttered back and forth across the ceiling, their shrill cries blending into the hum of conversation. A pipe-organ had somehow appeared behind the teacher's table, and the keys pressed themselves, playing a slow, eerie song. A fog had been enchanted to swirl around their ankles. The night sky, visible through the ceiling, perfected the illusion. The inky black clouds, occasionally peppered with flashes of lightning, gave the hall the perfect Halloween feeling.
Ernie Macmillan and Luna Lovegood appeared behind Harry. "That was too bad about today's game, Harry," Luna said. "We were cheering for you."
"Unjust!" Ernie said, waving his fist emphatically. "The decision to end the game was unjust! We just want you to know that the Hufflepuffs support you, and have chosen to view today's game as a Gryffindor victory."
"Thanks, Ernie," Harry said. "Thanks, Luna." He felt a little bit better. Maybe everyone wouldn't blame him after all.
"I think the Ravenclaws agree," Luna added. "Everyone knows you've never lost a game, Harry, except for that one. But no one could blame you. Everyone knows about you and dementors."
Now Harry felt his ears go hot. "Thanks, Luna," he said, while Ron snickered slightly into his handkerchief.
"See?" Hermione said as Ernie and Luna walked back to their own table. "People know it's not your fault."
"I guess," Harry said, but he did feel a bit better.
The feast was excellent. As always the food was superb, and for dessert, there were so many kinds of sweets and chocolates that they didn't know where to begin. They drank pumpkin juice and watched the ghosts' spirited re-enactment of the death of the Gray Lady, which was quite an eerie affair.
As the Gryffindors stood to leave, Harry spotted a large, shaggy head moving in his direction.
"Hello, Hagrid," Harry said.
"Harry," Hagrid said, smiling. "Glad ter see yer not still down abou' the match." He leaned in conspiratorially. "We all know yeh woulda won. And Gryffindor will still get the cup—no doubt abou' it."
"Thanks," Harry smiled weakly. Thinking about the match made some of his hard-won cheerfulness vanish.
"How come yeh ain' been ter see me?" Hagrid asked, standing back up. People streamed past them, jostling Harry with their elbows.
"Sorry," Harry said, fighting to keep upright against the flow of traffic out the door. He sidestepped into the empty space around Hagrid. "I was really busy with quidditch practice."
"Yeah," Hagrid said, nodding. "Well, when yeh get the time."
"Thanks. See you, Hagrid." Harry stepped back into the current of traffic.
"An' don' worry abou' the match!" Hagrid called. Harry felt his neck grow warm again.
His mood wasn't helped when, as he ran to catch up to Ron and Hermione, he overheard Terry Boot talking to another Ravenclaw. "They're not going to keep those rules for our matches, are they?" he was saying, his voice full of irritation. "After all, Potter's not on any of our teams."
When he woke the following morning, though, the deadened feeling was gone. Instead, he felt quite the opposite. A seething ball of hot anger had attached itself to his stomach. Hermione was right. It wasn't just his fault that the match had ended in a tie. Partly, but not entirely. It was Lord Voldemort's fault. It was the teachers' fault. He promised himself that from now on, he would fight three times as hard.
Unfortunately, he didn't have much time for fighting. The approach of the end of term meant that the teachers increased the amount of homework the sixth years were doing every night. For quite some time, Harry had been focused solely on quidditch, but their next game wasn't for months. They had to stagger their DA meetings, because the fifth years were complaining of overwork. Poor Ginny Weasley had a tendency to fall asleep every time she sat down; the scene of her snoozing on Dean Thomas's shoulder between classes was a common one.
After a few weeks of intense lessons, the Gryffindors found themselves feeling exhausted. By Wednesday of a particularly difficult week they were all thinking longingly of the upcoming winter holidays, less than a month away. That Thursday was the worst. Their first lesson was Herbology, where Professor Sprout had them packing dragon dung and straw bedding around some fragile Giggling Rosemary plants. The downside was that the rosemary had a tendency to release streams of laughing gas if anyone moved too quickly or touched it too roughly, and by the end of the lesson, everyone was giggling uncontrollably. Madame Sprout passed around a flagon of antidote, but for the rest of the morning, they were all a little high-strung and excitable.
Care of Magical Creatures was next. They had finally finished with the Spirit Creatures, which was a great relief to everyone. As they trooped across the muddy grounds to Hagrid's cabin, they speculated about what would be waiting for them. Hagrid had promised a surprise, but hadn't elaborated, and they'd all had enough experience with Hagrid's surprises to be afraid. Hagrid had thoughtfully thrown some long wooden planks over the pudding-like mud, and there was a quick scrambling to get up on the dry land.
"Hold still a moment Ron," Hermione said, grabbing his shoulder. She leaned her weight against him as she pulled off her shoe and tipped out a stream of muddy water. Harry tried to stifle a laugh as Ron's face went from pale pink to vibrant purple, his eyes staring straight ahead. Hermione seemed oblivious.
"Eew," she said, pulling her shoe back on and going after the other one. "I can't believe I forgot my boots."
"Transfigure your shoes," Dean suggested.
"I just might," Hermione said, and released Ron with a quick "thanks."
Ron looked at Harry. "What?" he demanded, his bright-red face defiant.
"Nothing," Harry replied, hoping he didn't look like he was trying not to laugh.
"Aaah!" Pansy Parkinson's sing-song voice rose from behind them. "Look! Granger made her boyfriend blush!"
Now Hermione's cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't get the chance to snap back at Pansy. Just then, Hagrid emerged from around the edge of his hut. Despite the chill, he had his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. "Over here!" he called to the students. "Hurry up, now! Come on!"
The class trooped around the corner. Hermione sighed as the puddle flooded her shoes again. To Harry's surprise, the grounds behind the cabin were much warmer than those in front. Most of the mud seemed to have dried up already, and his scarf started to feel unpleasantly warm.
Hagrid was standing next to a huge cage that he had built behind the cabin. It was tall enough for Hagrid to walk into without ducking, and wide enough to have comfortably housed a pair of hippos. It had been filled with leafy plants and sprawling, exotic ferns, and several long wooden planks were nailed from one side of the cage to the other at angles, rather like a child's jungle gym. There was even a rope-and-board swing hanging about four feet above the ground and swinging rhythmically in the breeze. The only thing missing, Harry thought, was any kind of magical creature.
"Gather 'round," Hagrid said. "And try not ter make too much noise. It upsets 'em."
"Upsets what, exactly?" came Draco's worried drawl.
"It's not another spirit creature, is it?" asked Parvati in a worried tone.
"Or a thestral?" said Neville.
"Nah," said Hagrid, grinning. "Now if yeh'll all stan' real still and quiet for a minute, they'll show themselves. Don' anybody move, now. We want the put them at their ease." Someone coughed derisively. "That goes fer you too, Malfoy," Hagrid added. "Real still, now."
The class froze awkwardly, barely moving and nearly silent for what felt like ages. Harry watched the swing and tried to stop himself from thinking, "this is stupid." His feet started to ache; he desperately needed to shift his weight to the other foot. He was about to try and move without being seen when he noticed the air around the swing seemed to be thickening. It almost looked solid.
Harry's eyes widened. A few stifled gasps around the cage let him know he wasn't the only one seeing the creatures, and that was a relief. Sitting on the swing, rocking back and forth, was an apelike creature about the size of a gorilla. Its long silver hair blew back and forth in the breeze. Harry looked around and spotted two more, perched on one of the sideways planks, and picking fleas off one another. He had barely spotted these when a Slytherin girl sneezed, and all three vanished again.
Hagrid was beaming. "Seen 'em? Who can tell me wha' they are?"
Predictably, Hermione's hand rose.
"Jus' Hermione?" Hagrid said, a twinkle in his eye. "No one else? How 'bout you, Harry?"
Harry slowly shook his head. "No idea," he said. Malfoy snickered.
"Oh, you know then, Malfoy?" Hagrid said quickly. Malfoy's grin vanished and he muttered something. "Righ'. Hermione?" Hagrid said.
"They're Demiguise," Hermione said. "From East Asia. They make themselves invisible as a defense mechanism, and their fur is used to make invisibility cloaks." Ah, thought Harry. So that was why Hagrid had called on him.
"Ten points ter Gryffindor," Hagrid said. "Now these three're on their way to Magical Zoo of London, but their new habita' won' be ready for a few months, so I volunteered ter take them. We're goin' to feed 'em, keep 'em groomed, and collect their hair in the spring."
An excited whisper rose among the students.
"They're so sweet," Lavender cooed.
"Are they dangerous?" asked Seamus.
"Not really," said Hagrid in a tone that clearly indicated he thought this was a bad thing, but probably shouldn't be held against the demiguise themselves. "Now, it's a lot colder here than where they come from, so the firs' thing yer gonna learn is the air-warming charm. Gather 'round, now."
They practiced the charm and then spent the rest of the lesson holding out fists full of fruit to the demiguise. It was a little strange feeling the clumsy fingers snatch away the fruit but not being able to see anything. At last, the bell rang, and they headed back to the castle, everyone eagerly speculating about what would be done with the demiguise fur.
"It's really valuable," Seamus said. "Maybe we'll sell it and split the money!"
"Maybe," Dean said thoughtfully, "they'll make invisibility cloaks out of it. Three demiguise, right? That's at least three cloaks, easy."
"Maybe three invisibility cloaks and a pair of invisible mittens," Ron said. Lavender rolled her eyes.
"I'd love an invisibility cloak," Parvati said. "You could go anywhere, anytime, and not worry about Peeves."
"I'd sneak to the kitchens at night like Fred and George Weasley used to," Seamus said.
"Imagine the tricks you could play! You could set off a load of dung bombs in the middle of the Great Hall and no one would see you!" Dean suggested.
"I wouldn't mind playing a trick or two on Malfoy," said Ron.
"What about you Harry? What would you do with an invisibility cloak?" Dean asked.
"Me?" Harry squeaked. "Oh. Er, I dunno. I guess just go places after hours, that sort of thing."
"Not very creative Harry," said Seamus. "You'll want to work on that if you get one of the cloaks."
The bell rang again, and the class walked back toward the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. They all liked Defense against the Dark Arts. Tonks may not be their best teacher ever, but she was good enough. After they finished wards, they had done more jinxes and counter hexes, some of which Harry and the DA already knew, but most of which were new. Harry was listening to Seamus and Dean's increasingly elaborate plans for potential invisibility cloaks, so he didn't notice anything amiss until they were right outside the classroom door. He crashed into Ron, who had stopped in front of him.
The door was dark and shut tight. A note, its green ink still shiny and fresh, was pinned to the door.
"Professor Tonks was called away on urgent business. She asks that you spend this time working on your Hoodwink Hex essays.
Albus Dumbledore,
Headmaster."
"Yes!" said Dean. "Free period! Who's up for quidditch?"
No one else shared his enthusiasm. "We've never had a Dark Arts lesson cancelled before. Do you think it's something to do with You-Know-Who?" said Lavender, gripping her bag tightly.
Harry frowned. He could only think of one reason why Tonks would be called away so suddenly.
"There wasn't anything in the paper this morning," Hermione said.
"That was hours ago," Neville said. "And why isn't someone else teaching us? Like when Professor Lupin was—was ill?"
"Maybe they all have lessons?" Parvati suggested.
"I know Flitwick and Sprout do," Ron said, "because Eva has charms now and Ginny has herbology."
"Eva? You have Eva Gregory's schedule memorized, now?" Hermione asked, her voice low.
"No!" Ron said too quickly. His cheeks started to flush again. "Actually, she, er, she wrote me a note a week ago." He stared at a point on the wall near the door.
"A note?" Hermione said icily. "What kind of note?"
"I know McGonagall's free," Harry said quickly, trying to mask Lavender and Parvati's giggles, "because we pass her office on the way here, and she's always in there. We can go ask her what happened, if you like."
"I'm just on my way to the library," Dean said, walking toward the quidditch pitch. "See you later. Good luck."
"Yeah, me too," said Seamus, walking toward the owlery. "See you at lunch."
In the end, only Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to McGonagall's office, but Harry got the impression that he was the only one of the three who was thinking about what he was doing.
"A note?" Hermione whispered again.
"It's not like I asked her to write it," snapped Ron. "And what do you care, anyway?"
Harry knocked on McGonagall's office door. Silence thundered through the hallway. There was a long, rather forced, pause.
Hermione whispered, "Yes, but Eva Gregory—really—"
"What's wrong with Eva?" Ron whispered irritably.
"Nothing," Hermione hissed. "I don't know. She's just so— well, you know. Annoying. Back-handed."
"She's a great chaser," Ron said.
Hermione ignored him. "You didn't write her back did you?" she said.
Harry knocked again. Another silence rolled through the hall.
"You did, didn't you," Hermione whispered.
"So what if I did?" Ron demanded. "You write to Krum!"
"That's different!" Hermione hissed, her voice rising. "He's my pen friend!"
"Fine," Ron said, no longer bothering to whisper. "Then she's my pen friend."
"She can't be your pen-friend if you live in the same building!"
Harry sighed. "I don't think McGonagall's here," he said. Hermione and Ron were both slightly pink-cheeked.
"Then we're free," Ron said. He checked his watch. "Lunch starts in a few minutes. Want to go to the Great Hall?"
"I'm going to the library," Hermione sniffed. She pulled her bag up on her shoulder and disappeared down the hallway in a great hurry.
Ron let out a low whistle as he and Harry turned toward the Great Hall. "What was all that about?" he said, nodding back toward Hermione. "One stupid note and she gets all upset!"
Harry frowned. Was it possible that Ron really hadn't noticed? Maybe it was time to broach the subject. "Er—um, Ron? You know how you get upset when she writes to Krum?" he said carefully.
"Can you blame me?" Ron said. "We both know he wants to be more than just her friend, doesn't he?"
"Er—right," Harry agreed. "And, er, you know how Eva always tries to sit right next to you?"
Ron frowned. Harry thought he was about to say something, when he let out a yelp and grabbed his neck. Harry looked around.
"Oooh, naughty ickle students, skiving off their classes!" Peeves swooped above their heads, waggling his eyebrows, his bowtie spinning. He aimed his pea shooter at Harry, who ducked just in time. "I ought to tell on you I ought."
"Push off, Peeves," Ron said. "We aren't skiving off—class was cancelled."
"Fibber!" Peeves said in sing-song. "Didn't anyone ever tell you you mustn't tell lies? I'll have to teach you a lesson. Yes indeedy, a nice little lesson about good manners." Grinning wickedly, he produced, seemingly from nowhere, an oversized bag of Weasley's Best #1 Sneezing Powder (extra strong).
"Peeves," Harry said, backing away. He looked over his shoulder for a place they could run to where Peeves wouldn't be able to dump the bag on them. "Don't do it, Peeves."
"You've got to learn!" Peeves said in sing-song, his bowtie spinning faster. "Got to learn not to tell nasty lies!"
"We aren't lying!" Ron said. "Honestly!"
Peeves paused. He tapped one finger against his head, as though thinking hard. Then, without a word, he up-ended the bag of sneezing powder. It lingered in the air, creating a thick white mist.
Harry held his breath, but it was no good. He sneezed. Every sneeze meant he inhaled more of the powder, which only made him sneeze more. His eyes watered so that he couldn't see. He ran out of the powder cloud by running away from Peeves's laughter, and collided with Ron. They hurried, sneezing, toward the hospital wing.
Finally, the pushed through the door. They both sneezed, hard.
"Bless you," said a giggling voice.
"Weasleys' sneezing powder, again?" Madame Pomfrey said. "I do wish you'd have a word with those brothers of yours! I've had no end of students down here after run-ins with their products. Bless you."
It took her only a few minutes to sort the two of them out. A pair of giggling first year girls, on of whom was sporting a large purple bruise across her cheek, watched them. Ron explained to Madame Pomfrey.
"You say this was in the corridor past the transfiguration classroom?" she said. "How much did Peeves drop, exactly? Not the whole bag?"
"Yeah," said Ron, blowing his nose. "And it was the extra strong stuff."
Madame Pomfrey signed resignedly. "They'll be coming in here any minute. I better call Mr. Filch, and tell him to get it cleaned up before it's tracked all over the school."
Harry and Ron left, and headed back toward the Great Hall. By now, lunch was in full swing, and they spotted Hermione sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. Ron sat, somewhat hesitantly, beside her.
"I thought you'd have finished eating by now," Hermione said.
"We got caught by Peeves and had to go to the hospital wing," Harry explained. "Don't ask," he added, seeing the look on her face. "Get any homework done?"
"A little," Hermione said.
They ate their beef casserole in silence for a moment. Then, Ron and Hermione both spoke at once.
"I'm sorry I—"
"I didn't mean to—"
They stopped and smiled.
"It's okay," Hermione said.
"Totally forgotten," Ron agreed.
Harry tried not to roll his eyes. He looked away toward the staff table. His eyes scanned the chairs, and he paused.
"Hermione," he said at last, "were any of the teachers here when you came in?"
"No," she said. "No one. Not even Filch. I thought it was odd."
***********************
Reviewer Responses:
Scorpion Lord: Criticism! What?!! I'm so angry!!!
Just kidding. I love criticism! Let's see, here...
You're right. I am evil. I'm dropping hints, which I probably shouldn't be, but I can't help it. I'm a horrible tease. Anyway, I can't give you anymore than what I did without spoiling the big surprises! So go punch a pillow.
Ahhh, the Ginny issue. Well, there is definitely sexual tension. And I definitely like Ginny. But don't forget—Ginny's seeing another boy. And I'm also not much of an H/G shipper. I have my sights on another girl for him, but I'll keep that to myself. But, as I've said before, Harry probably won't pair-up in this particular epic, although others will. (As this chapter probably made obvious.)
You're right, I pushed the classwork into the backseat for a while. Mainly because Harry was very focused on other things (namely, quidditch.) They are doing work, although not as much as last year, and I was kind of skirting over it. Well, it comes back into the foreground now, so I hope you approve.
Harry hasn't been very focused on Voldemort for a while. In actuality, he was putting it out of his mind a bit, I think. But the possessing Voldemort goodness will return with a vengeance very soon.
You're right. I haven't been giving my attention to a lot of students. I'll work on that.
I always welcome "sane advice"!! In fact, I'd like more. ;) Don't hold back—I'm a big girl, I can take it.
EllaSteele: Welcome! I'm really pleased that you like the story, and I have added you to the update list. Hope you like the upcoming chapters!
Godrick Gal: Yeah, I thought that was pretty cool when Ginny jumped in front of Harry. I went, "aaaah!" And I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Hopefully, it won't happen again.
Jbfritz: Thanks!
Lord of Darkness13: Thanks! Welcome to the story.
Harryp123: Thanks.
Prongs4: Yeah, tie games suck. But, they can't win them all...
Jedi Buttercup: Thanks. I use those same criteria for evaluating Year6 fanfics. By the by, I liked your Stargate fanfic.
Wiccan PussyKat: Sorry I kept you waiting! Let's see... I'll say officially that Cyril was under the Imperious curse. That's a pretty looming threat, I think, because it means that ANYBODY could be a bad guy, and not even know it.
Big Stu: Thanks, mate. Felt right to me, too. More on the way.
Wynjara: I know, it was pretty evil of me to end the game there. (mwahaha) As for the jewelry, don't forget that Bill said that silver held the spell best. Lupin's is gold, and they have to respell it every so often. Sirius's ring is made of carved onyx. So if it is connected to the network spell, then they'd have to have a way to respell it—rather frequently, I'd think, onyx not being metallic.
If anyone was overlooked in this batch, you have my apologies. I'm writing this from a school computer, and they've added fanfiction.net to their list of "banned sites" (WHY?) so I'm trying to get everyone off my email. Don't feel left out or unappreciated! You're not.
See you all next week! *promise!*
On another note, I turned another year older this week!
Enjoy the new chapter, and I'll see you next week, promise,
Neoepiphany*******
********Edited to correct accidentally switched dialogue lines. Thanks to Iavala for pointing this out.********
Chapter Seventeen
The "Note" Incident
The mood in the Gryffindor common room was decidedly gloomy that night. The team sat around, feeling low-spirited, irritated, and, in more than one case, horribly cheated. Harry felt worse than all of them; he was both angry with the professors for ending the game, guilty about having let down the team, and overcome with a feeling of melancholy. The team sat in a desolate ring before the hearth.
The rest of the Gryffindors were remarkably supportive. "Don't worry," Neville said to Harry and Ron as they stared angrily into the common room fire. "No one blames you. Everyone knows you wanted to keep playing."
"Yeah, and it's not like you lost," Parvati Patil added, sympathetically.
"Those rules were unfair. That's all it is. They were totally unfair," Eva said, looking at Ron, who nodded. Ron seemed to have lost the ability to speak coherently without railing against McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Madame Hooch, so, after a few not-so-polite remarks from the other Gryffindors, he had opted to avoid speaking at all.
"It was my fault they added those rules," Harry grumbled.
"No it wasn't," said Hermione sharply. "It was Lord Voldemort's fault, and you know it." There was a shocked silence for a moment.
"If only I'd caught the snitch," Harry sighed.
"If you'd had more time," Ginny said, and let the rest of the sentence go unsaid.
"If it had been a nicer day," Lavender Brown said, breaking the silence, "then you would have been able to see better, and it would have been different."
"Well, the feast will cheer you up," Hermione said. "Come on, you lot."
Harry had forgotten about the Halloween feast, but now, he remembered it with a surge of dread. He really didn't want to face the Slytherins—or the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, for that matter—after such an embarrassing fiasco.
"Come on," Hermione said, pulling an irritated-looking Ron to his feet. "Everyone knows it wasn't your fault, and you'll feel loads better with some food in you."
"No I won't," Ron said glumly.
"Come on," she said, pushing him toward the portrait hole. The team stood slowly and followed her through the portrait hole, the rest of the Gryffindors trailing behind like the tail on a very slow-moving comet.
Harry had expected gloating and mocking from the Slytherins. After all, everybody knew that those rules had just been put in place to protect the great Harry Potter. If Harry hadn't been on the team—if he hadn't gone into Hogsmeade yesterday—it would have been a nice, ordinary game. The Halloween feast would be crowned by one team celebrating victory (probably Gryffindor), and another drowning their sorrows in flagons of pumpkin juice and plates of rich food.
To Harry's surprise, the Slytherins looked just as frustrated as the Gryffindors. The team was sitting together and glaring angrily at their plates, as though they had attempted to spite them in some way. Pansy Parkinson was leaning low over Malfoy, and, as they walked by, Harry distinctly heard her say "You know you could've have won, Draco, if it hadn't been for Potter and his special rules." Draco jabbed at something on his plate, his fork turned as though he were trying to kill whatever it was. Without looking up, he loudly said, "Ickle Potter must be happy that nothing happened to him on the big scary quidditch pitch. They knew we were going to beat them this time, that's all…"
"Ignore him," Hermione said, steering Ron away from the table.
The Gryffindors took their seats. Despite his moodiness, Harry had to admit that the Hall looked great. Thin banners of orange, black, and purple satin criss-crossed the air above the tables. There were four giant pumpkins, carved with frighteningly realistic trolls, dragons, and grotesque faces. Smaller pumpkins floated above the tables amid the candles, each with a leering face that bobbed up and down over them like nodding heads. Live bats fluttered back and forth across the ceiling, their shrill cries blending into the hum of conversation. A pipe-organ had somehow appeared behind the teacher's table, and the keys pressed themselves, playing a slow, eerie song. A fog had been enchanted to swirl around their ankles. The night sky, visible through the ceiling, perfected the illusion. The inky black clouds, occasionally peppered with flashes of lightning, gave the hall the perfect Halloween feeling.
Ernie Macmillan and Luna Lovegood appeared behind Harry. "That was too bad about today's game, Harry," Luna said. "We were cheering for you."
"Unjust!" Ernie said, waving his fist emphatically. "The decision to end the game was unjust! We just want you to know that the Hufflepuffs support you, and have chosen to view today's game as a Gryffindor victory."
"Thanks, Ernie," Harry said. "Thanks, Luna." He felt a little bit better. Maybe everyone wouldn't blame him after all.
"I think the Ravenclaws agree," Luna added. "Everyone knows you've never lost a game, Harry, except for that one. But no one could blame you. Everyone knows about you and dementors."
Now Harry felt his ears go hot. "Thanks, Luna," he said, while Ron snickered slightly into his handkerchief.
"See?" Hermione said as Ernie and Luna walked back to their own table. "People know it's not your fault."
"I guess," Harry said, but he did feel a bit better.
The feast was excellent. As always the food was superb, and for dessert, there were so many kinds of sweets and chocolates that they didn't know where to begin. They drank pumpkin juice and watched the ghosts' spirited re-enactment of the death of the Gray Lady, which was quite an eerie affair.
As the Gryffindors stood to leave, Harry spotted a large, shaggy head moving in his direction.
"Hello, Hagrid," Harry said.
"Harry," Hagrid said, smiling. "Glad ter see yer not still down abou' the match." He leaned in conspiratorially. "We all know yeh woulda won. And Gryffindor will still get the cup—no doubt abou' it."
"Thanks," Harry smiled weakly. Thinking about the match made some of his hard-won cheerfulness vanish.
"How come yeh ain' been ter see me?" Hagrid asked, standing back up. People streamed past them, jostling Harry with their elbows.
"Sorry," Harry said, fighting to keep upright against the flow of traffic out the door. He sidestepped into the empty space around Hagrid. "I was really busy with quidditch practice."
"Yeah," Hagrid said, nodding. "Well, when yeh get the time."
"Thanks. See you, Hagrid." Harry stepped back into the current of traffic.
"An' don' worry abou' the match!" Hagrid called. Harry felt his neck grow warm again.
His mood wasn't helped when, as he ran to catch up to Ron and Hermione, he overheard Terry Boot talking to another Ravenclaw. "They're not going to keep those rules for our matches, are they?" he was saying, his voice full of irritation. "After all, Potter's not on any of our teams."
When he woke the following morning, though, the deadened feeling was gone. Instead, he felt quite the opposite. A seething ball of hot anger had attached itself to his stomach. Hermione was right. It wasn't just his fault that the match had ended in a tie. Partly, but not entirely. It was Lord Voldemort's fault. It was the teachers' fault. He promised himself that from now on, he would fight three times as hard.
Unfortunately, he didn't have much time for fighting. The approach of the end of term meant that the teachers increased the amount of homework the sixth years were doing every night. For quite some time, Harry had been focused solely on quidditch, but their next game wasn't for months. They had to stagger their DA meetings, because the fifth years were complaining of overwork. Poor Ginny Weasley had a tendency to fall asleep every time she sat down; the scene of her snoozing on Dean Thomas's shoulder between classes was a common one.
After a few weeks of intense lessons, the Gryffindors found themselves feeling exhausted. By Wednesday of a particularly difficult week they were all thinking longingly of the upcoming winter holidays, less than a month away. That Thursday was the worst. Their first lesson was Herbology, where Professor Sprout had them packing dragon dung and straw bedding around some fragile Giggling Rosemary plants. The downside was that the rosemary had a tendency to release streams of laughing gas if anyone moved too quickly or touched it too roughly, and by the end of the lesson, everyone was giggling uncontrollably. Madame Sprout passed around a flagon of antidote, but for the rest of the morning, they were all a little high-strung and excitable.
Care of Magical Creatures was next. They had finally finished with the Spirit Creatures, which was a great relief to everyone. As they trooped across the muddy grounds to Hagrid's cabin, they speculated about what would be waiting for them. Hagrid had promised a surprise, but hadn't elaborated, and they'd all had enough experience with Hagrid's surprises to be afraid. Hagrid had thoughtfully thrown some long wooden planks over the pudding-like mud, and there was a quick scrambling to get up on the dry land.
"Hold still a moment Ron," Hermione said, grabbing his shoulder. She leaned her weight against him as she pulled off her shoe and tipped out a stream of muddy water. Harry tried to stifle a laugh as Ron's face went from pale pink to vibrant purple, his eyes staring straight ahead. Hermione seemed oblivious.
"Eew," she said, pulling her shoe back on and going after the other one. "I can't believe I forgot my boots."
"Transfigure your shoes," Dean suggested.
"I just might," Hermione said, and released Ron with a quick "thanks."
Ron looked at Harry. "What?" he demanded, his bright-red face defiant.
"Nothing," Harry replied, hoping he didn't look like he was trying not to laugh.
"Aaah!" Pansy Parkinson's sing-song voice rose from behind them. "Look! Granger made her boyfriend blush!"
Now Hermione's cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't get the chance to snap back at Pansy. Just then, Hagrid emerged from around the edge of his hut. Despite the chill, he had his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. "Over here!" he called to the students. "Hurry up, now! Come on!"
The class trooped around the corner. Hermione sighed as the puddle flooded her shoes again. To Harry's surprise, the grounds behind the cabin were much warmer than those in front. Most of the mud seemed to have dried up already, and his scarf started to feel unpleasantly warm.
Hagrid was standing next to a huge cage that he had built behind the cabin. It was tall enough for Hagrid to walk into without ducking, and wide enough to have comfortably housed a pair of hippos. It had been filled with leafy plants and sprawling, exotic ferns, and several long wooden planks were nailed from one side of the cage to the other at angles, rather like a child's jungle gym. There was even a rope-and-board swing hanging about four feet above the ground and swinging rhythmically in the breeze. The only thing missing, Harry thought, was any kind of magical creature.
"Gather 'round," Hagrid said. "And try not ter make too much noise. It upsets 'em."
"Upsets what, exactly?" came Draco's worried drawl.
"It's not another spirit creature, is it?" asked Parvati in a worried tone.
"Or a thestral?" said Neville.
"Nah," said Hagrid, grinning. "Now if yeh'll all stan' real still and quiet for a minute, they'll show themselves. Don' anybody move, now. We want the put them at their ease." Someone coughed derisively. "That goes fer you too, Malfoy," Hagrid added. "Real still, now."
The class froze awkwardly, barely moving and nearly silent for what felt like ages. Harry watched the swing and tried to stop himself from thinking, "this is stupid." His feet started to ache; he desperately needed to shift his weight to the other foot. He was about to try and move without being seen when he noticed the air around the swing seemed to be thickening. It almost looked solid.
Harry's eyes widened. A few stifled gasps around the cage let him know he wasn't the only one seeing the creatures, and that was a relief. Sitting on the swing, rocking back and forth, was an apelike creature about the size of a gorilla. Its long silver hair blew back and forth in the breeze. Harry looked around and spotted two more, perched on one of the sideways planks, and picking fleas off one another. He had barely spotted these when a Slytherin girl sneezed, and all three vanished again.
Hagrid was beaming. "Seen 'em? Who can tell me wha' they are?"
Predictably, Hermione's hand rose.
"Jus' Hermione?" Hagrid said, a twinkle in his eye. "No one else? How 'bout you, Harry?"
Harry slowly shook his head. "No idea," he said. Malfoy snickered.
"Oh, you know then, Malfoy?" Hagrid said quickly. Malfoy's grin vanished and he muttered something. "Righ'. Hermione?" Hagrid said.
"They're Demiguise," Hermione said. "From East Asia. They make themselves invisible as a defense mechanism, and their fur is used to make invisibility cloaks." Ah, thought Harry. So that was why Hagrid had called on him.
"Ten points ter Gryffindor," Hagrid said. "Now these three're on their way to Magical Zoo of London, but their new habita' won' be ready for a few months, so I volunteered ter take them. We're goin' to feed 'em, keep 'em groomed, and collect their hair in the spring."
An excited whisper rose among the students.
"They're so sweet," Lavender cooed.
"Are they dangerous?" asked Seamus.
"Not really," said Hagrid in a tone that clearly indicated he thought this was a bad thing, but probably shouldn't be held against the demiguise themselves. "Now, it's a lot colder here than where they come from, so the firs' thing yer gonna learn is the air-warming charm. Gather 'round, now."
They practiced the charm and then spent the rest of the lesson holding out fists full of fruit to the demiguise. It was a little strange feeling the clumsy fingers snatch away the fruit but not being able to see anything. At last, the bell rang, and they headed back to the castle, everyone eagerly speculating about what would be done with the demiguise fur.
"It's really valuable," Seamus said. "Maybe we'll sell it and split the money!"
"Maybe," Dean said thoughtfully, "they'll make invisibility cloaks out of it. Three demiguise, right? That's at least three cloaks, easy."
"Maybe three invisibility cloaks and a pair of invisible mittens," Ron said. Lavender rolled her eyes.
"I'd love an invisibility cloak," Parvati said. "You could go anywhere, anytime, and not worry about Peeves."
"I'd sneak to the kitchens at night like Fred and George Weasley used to," Seamus said.
"Imagine the tricks you could play! You could set off a load of dung bombs in the middle of the Great Hall and no one would see you!" Dean suggested.
"I wouldn't mind playing a trick or two on Malfoy," said Ron.
"What about you Harry? What would you do with an invisibility cloak?" Dean asked.
"Me?" Harry squeaked. "Oh. Er, I dunno. I guess just go places after hours, that sort of thing."
"Not very creative Harry," said Seamus. "You'll want to work on that if you get one of the cloaks."
The bell rang again, and the class walked back toward the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. They all liked Defense against the Dark Arts. Tonks may not be their best teacher ever, but she was good enough. After they finished wards, they had done more jinxes and counter hexes, some of which Harry and the DA already knew, but most of which were new. Harry was listening to Seamus and Dean's increasingly elaborate plans for potential invisibility cloaks, so he didn't notice anything amiss until they were right outside the classroom door. He crashed into Ron, who had stopped in front of him.
The door was dark and shut tight. A note, its green ink still shiny and fresh, was pinned to the door.
"Professor Tonks was called away on urgent business. She asks that you spend this time working on your Hoodwink Hex essays.
Albus Dumbledore,
Headmaster."
"Yes!" said Dean. "Free period! Who's up for quidditch?"
No one else shared his enthusiasm. "We've never had a Dark Arts lesson cancelled before. Do you think it's something to do with You-Know-Who?" said Lavender, gripping her bag tightly.
Harry frowned. He could only think of one reason why Tonks would be called away so suddenly.
"There wasn't anything in the paper this morning," Hermione said.
"That was hours ago," Neville said. "And why isn't someone else teaching us? Like when Professor Lupin was—was ill?"
"Maybe they all have lessons?" Parvati suggested.
"I know Flitwick and Sprout do," Ron said, "because Eva has charms now and Ginny has herbology."
"Eva? You have Eva Gregory's schedule memorized, now?" Hermione asked, her voice low.
"No!" Ron said too quickly. His cheeks started to flush again. "Actually, she, er, she wrote me a note a week ago." He stared at a point on the wall near the door.
"A note?" Hermione said icily. "What kind of note?"
"I know McGonagall's free," Harry said quickly, trying to mask Lavender and Parvati's giggles, "because we pass her office on the way here, and she's always in there. We can go ask her what happened, if you like."
"I'm just on my way to the library," Dean said, walking toward the quidditch pitch. "See you later. Good luck."
"Yeah, me too," said Seamus, walking toward the owlery. "See you at lunch."
In the end, only Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to McGonagall's office, but Harry got the impression that he was the only one of the three who was thinking about what he was doing.
"A note?" Hermione whispered again.
"It's not like I asked her to write it," snapped Ron. "And what do you care, anyway?"
Harry knocked on McGonagall's office door. Silence thundered through the hallway. There was a long, rather forced, pause.
Hermione whispered, "Yes, but Eva Gregory—really—"
"What's wrong with Eva?" Ron whispered irritably.
"Nothing," Hermione hissed. "I don't know. She's just so— well, you know. Annoying. Back-handed."
"She's a great chaser," Ron said.
Hermione ignored him. "You didn't write her back did you?" she said.
Harry knocked again. Another silence rolled through the hall.
"You did, didn't you," Hermione whispered.
"So what if I did?" Ron demanded. "You write to Krum!"
"That's different!" Hermione hissed, her voice rising. "He's my pen friend!"
"Fine," Ron said, no longer bothering to whisper. "Then she's my pen friend."
"She can't be your pen-friend if you live in the same building!"
Harry sighed. "I don't think McGonagall's here," he said. Hermione and Ron were both slightly pink-cheeked.
"Then we're free," Ron said. He checked his watch. "Lunch starts in a few minutes. Want to go to the Great Hall?"
"I'm going to the library," Hermione sniffed. She pulled her bag up on her shoulder and disappeared down the hallway in a great hurry.
Ron let out a low whistle as he and Harry turned toward the Great Hall. "What was all that about?" he said, nodding back toward Hermione. "One stupid note and she gets all upset!"
Harry frowned. Was it possible that Ron really hadn't noticed? Maybe it was time to broach the subject. "Er—um, Ron? You know how you get upset when she writes to Krum?" he said carefully.
"Can you blame me?" Ron said. "We both know he wants to be more than just her friend, doesn't he?"
"Er—right," Harry agreed. "And, er, you know how Eva always tries to sit right next to you?"
Ron frowned. Harry thought he was about to say something, when he let out a yelp and grabbed his neck. Harry looked around.
"Oooh, naughty ickle students, skiving off their classes!" Peeves swooped above their heads, waggling his eyebrows, his bowtie spinning. He aimed his pea shooter at Harry, who ducked just in time. "I ought to tell on you I ought."
"Push off, Peeves," Ron said. "We aren't skiving off—class was cancelled."
"Fibber!" Peeves said in sing-song. "Didn't anyone ever tell you you mustn't tell lies? I'll have to teach you a lesson. Yes indeedy, a nice little lesson about good manners." Grinning wickedly, he produced, seemingly from nowhere, an oversized bag of Weasley's Best #1 Sneezing Powder (extra strong).
"Peeves," Harry said, backing away. He looked over his shoulder for a place they could run to where Peeves wouldn't be able to dump the bag on them. "Don't do it, Peeves."
"You've got to learn!" Peeves said in sing-song, his bowtie spinning faster. "Got to learn not to tell nasty lies!"
"We aren't lying!" Ron said. "Honestly!"
Peeves paused. He tapped one finger against his head, as though thinking hard. Then, without a word, he up-ended the bag of sneezing powder. It lingered in the air, creating a thick white mist.
Harry held his breath, but it was no good. He sneezed. Every sneeze meant he inhaled more of the powder, which only made him sneeze more. His eyes watered so that he couldn't see. He ran out of the powder cloud by running away from Peeves's laughter, and collided with Ron. They hurried, sneezing, toward the hospital wing.
Finally, the pushed through the door. They both sneezed, hard.
"Bless you," said a giggling voice.
"Weasleys' sneezing powder, again?" Madame Pomfrey said. "I do wish you'd have a word with those brothers of yours! I've had no end of students down here after run-ins with their products. Bless you."
It took her only a few minutes to sort the two of them out. A pair of giggling first year girls, on of whom was sporting a large purple bruise across her cheek, watched them. Ron explained to Madame Pomfrey.
"You say this was in the corridor past the transfiguration classroom?" she said. "How much did Peeves drop, exactly? Not the whole bag?"
"Yeah," said Ron, blowing his nose. "And it was the extra strong stuff."
Madame Pomfrey signed resignedly. "They'll be coming in here any minute. I better call Mr. Filch, and tell him to get it cleaned up before it's tracked all over the school."
Harry and Ron left, and headed back toward the Great Hall. By now, lunch was in full swing, and they spotted Hermione sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. Ron sat, somewhat hesitantly, beside her.
"I thought you'd have finished eating by now," Hermione said.
"We got caught by Peeves and had to go to the hospital wing," Harry explained. "Don't ask," he added, seeing the look on her face. "Get any homework done?"
"A little," Hermione said.
They ate their beef casserole in silence for a moment. Then, Ron and Hermione both spoke at once.
"I'm sorry I—"
"I didn't mean to—"
They stopped and smiled.
"It's okay," Hermione said.
"Totally forgotten," Ron agreed.
Harry tried not to roll his eyes. He looked away toward the staff table. His eyes scanned the chairs, and he paused.
"Hermione," he said at last, "were any of the teachers here when you came in?"
"No," she said. "No one. Not even Filch. I thought it was odd."
***********************
Reviewer Responses:
Scorpion Lord: Criticism! What?!! I'm so angry!!!
Just kidding. I love criticism! Let's see, here...
You're right. I am evil. I'm dropping hints, which I probably shouldn't be, but I can't help it. I'm a horrible tease. Anyway, I can't give you anymore than what I did without spoiling the big surprises! So go punch a pillow.
Ahhh, the Ginny issue. Well, there is definitely sexual tension. And I definitely like Ginny. But don't forget—Ginny's seeing another boy. And I'm also not much of an H/G shipper. I have my sights on another girl for him, but I'll keep that to myself. But, as I've said before, Harry probably won't pair-up in this particular epic, although others will. (As this chapter probably made obvious.)
You're right, I pushed the classwork into the backseat for a while. Mainly because Harry was very focused on other things (namely, quidditch.) They are doing work, although not as much as last year, and I was kind of skirting over it. Well, it comes back into the foreground now, so I hope you approve.
Harry hasn't been very focused on Voldemort for a while. In actuality, he was putting it out of his mind a bit, I think. But the possessing Voldemort goodness will return with a vengeance very soon.
You're right. I haven't been giving my attention to a lot of students. I'll work on that.
I always welcome "sane advice"!! In fact, I'd like more. ;) Don't hold back—I'm a big girl, I can take it.
EllaSteele: Welcome! I'm really pleased that you like the story, and I have added you to the update list. Hope you like the upcoming chapters!
Godrick Gal: Yeah, I thought that was pretty cool when Ginny jumped in front of Harry. I went, "aaaah!" And I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Hopefully, it won't happen again.
Jbfritz: Thanks!
Lord of Darkness13: Thanks! Welcome to the story.
Harryp123: Thanks.
Prongs4: Yeah, tie games suck. But, they can't win them all...
Jedi Buttercup: Thanks. I use those same criteria for evaluating Year6 fanfics. By the by, I liked your Stargate fanfic.
Wiccan PussyKat: Sorry I kept you waiting! Let's see... I'll say officially that Cyril was under the Imperious curse. That's a pretty looming threat, I think, because it means that ANYBODY could be a bad guy, and not even know it.
Big Stu: Thanks, mate. Felt right to me, too. More on the way.
Wynjara: I know, it was pretty evil of me to end the game there. (mwahaha) As for the jewelry, don't forget that Bill said that silver held the spell best. Lupin's is gold, and they have to respell it every so often. Sirius's ring is made of carved onyx. So if it is connected to the network spell, then they'd have to have a way to respell it—rather frequently, I'd think, onyx not being metallic.
If anyone was overlooked in this batch, you have my apologies. I'm writing this from a school computer, and they've added fanfiction.net to their list of "banned sites" (WHY?) so I'm trying to get everyone off my email. Don't feel left out or unappreciated! You're not.
See you all next week! *promise!*