A Glimmer Of Gold

by M. Scott Eiland

COMPLETE! After an unexpected meeting with Oliver Wood and Viktor Krum results in a plan for the most anticipated Quidditch match in years, Harry finds himself having unexpected feelings about a close friend.

5. Ch 5

Chapter Five

Harry took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. He left his broom leaning against one of the benches in the stands—knowing that no one currently at Hogwarts would steal or tamper with his Firebolt—and calmly walked along the path back to the castle. He found Hermione standing alone in the courtyard, dry-eyed but visibly upset. She looked up at the sound of footsteps and her eyes widened in surprise as she said, "What are you doing here, Harry? You were two hundred feet in the air the last time I saw you."

Harry sighed and led Hermione to a nearby spot under a tree, where they sat down and got comfortable before Harry shook his head and replied softly, "Hermione, there were only three people in the stands watching. Two stopped paying attention, and the other one left. I was pretty sure the ones who stopped paying attention were all right on their own."

Hermione looked at Harry and stared for a long moment before commenting, "That has to be one of the great euphemisms of all time, Harry." Harry smiled slightly, and Hermione locked eyes with him and asked bluntly, "You knew, didn't you? About me and Ron and—"

"—and that you two were doing the mating dance for the past two years without admitting it to each other? Yeah, Ginny clued me in after the Yule Ball—and the fact that she had to is proof that I'm as thick as they come as far as that kind of thing goes." Harry admitted, watching Hermione blush crimson at his words. "Oliver found out when Parvati told us that she helped make you up to try to make Ron jealous. I'm pretty sure that those Puddlemere United players didn't know until Ron and Luna started snogging and you left suddenly. As for everyone else. . .it was pretty much out there. If it helps, from what Parvati and Lavender were telling me about the school gossip mill, most everyone outside of Slytherin was hoping you two would get together. Which is probably a big reason why there haven't been more guys chasing you, Hermione. It certainly isn't because you're not worth chasing."

Hermione blinked, and a few tears appeared as she whispered, "That's sweet, Harry—but I don't need a pep talk right now. . .I'm just trying to understand why I didn't see this coming, and why I didn't just admit to Ron that we weren't going to make a go of it before this happened. It would have been easier on both of us."

Harry blinked, startled by the moment of deja-vu. He frowned and asked, "Are you saying that you had decided that you two wouldn't be dating too?"

Hermione flinched, and her eyes flashed with momentary anger before she calmed down and asked quietly, "Are you saying you knew this was coming? Was he seeing Luna already?"

Harry hesitated for a moment—not out of fear or guilt, but because he was not sure how much he could repeat without betraying Ron's privacy. He frowned again, then replied, "I knew he was interested in someone. He didn't tell me who it was, and he wasn't sure she felt anything for him. As for the rest. . .Hermione, Ron thinks the world of you. He knows you're going on to do amazing things that the world will remember for a long, long time. He doesn't think he's the right person to stand at your side and help you do that. It hurt him to tell me that—but I think he needed me to understand that, and maybe hoped that I would tell you that truth for him. If I'm wrong, he's probably going to give me a good punch in the jaw for doing it."

Hermione laughed, and there was bitterness in the sound of it. "That's just perfect, Harry. We couldn't even agree on why we didn't belong together." She turned away, and Harry reached out and squeezed one of her hands and waited for her to speak again. She didn't turn to face him again, but he could hear her whisper again: "I've been so hard on him over the years. He's growing up to be a good man, Harry—he deserves to find someone who appreciates that and won't nag him to death trying to make him something he's not. I was afraid that if we started seeing each other. . .we'd end up having that one fight that we'd never forgive each other for. I'd decided that I couldn't live with that, and was trying to figure out a way to tell him. . .but it still hurts knowing why I won't have to."

Harry squeezed her hand again. "I'm sorry, Hermione." He saw the defeated slump in her shoulders, and something inside him demanded that he do something to make that look go away. He thought furiously, and after a moment he brightened and said, "Listen, Hermione. Neville's going to be gone for almost a week—almost until the day of the match. Ginny's going off for a few days with Dean and his parents. Ron and Luna—well, they're going to be busy with each other, aren't they?"

Hermione turned to face Harry, and he could see irritation in her eyes. "Why yes, Harry—they will be, and thank you for pointing it out so bluntly." Harry blinked and looked guilty, and Hermione sighed at the reaction and said, "All right, Harry—what are you trying to say?"

"I won't be busy afternoons with dueling practice with Neville any more, and everyone else will be busy with one thing or another. Spend the next few afternoons with me—we'll find things to do that we've never done before. Professor Dumbledore will probably want to put security around us if we go out—but I don't care about that." Harry's voice was determined, and Hermione shivered a little as he looked at her with an equally determined expression and added, "I want to spend some quality time with my best friend, and I don't care if I have to make a spectacle out of myself to do it." Hermione stared at him, and Harry pressed on: "Now, I know you'll have to give up your afternoon study sessions, but you just got twenty bloody OWLs, Hermione! I think you can afford to miss a few afternoons of studying—"

"You're right—let's do it." Hermione spoke softly, and there was something unidentifiable in her expression as she replied to Harry and waited for him to react.

"Damn it, Hermione! The library isn't going anywhere. You need to take a few days and relax—" Harry stopped suddenly as he registered the amusement in Hermione's eyes. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'Let's do it,' Harry." The amusement in Hermione's eyes could now be heard in her voice, and Harry shuffled his feet in mild embarrassment as Hermione added, "Did you think it would be that hard for you to talk me into it, Harry? I'm not completely impervious to the concept of fun, you know." She smiled at him, and Harry involuntarily smiled back at her as Hermione asked, "Are you sure though, Harry? You're right—we've attracted enough attention going out as a group. If we go out together, some people will come to the wrong conclusions."

"Well, we can have the Order screen your mail for the next few months—" Hermione winced at the memory of the aftermath of Rita Skeeter's article as Harry continued, "and it's entirely possible that it will become widely known that I'm spending a lot of time in public with the smartest witch at Hogwarts. How tragic that would be for me."

Hermione giggled involuntarily, then hugged Harry. "You're becoming awfully sarcastic, Harry—but for some reason it comes out very sweet." Harry hugged Hermione back, and moved away from her far enough to see the smile on her face as she added, "All right, Harry—you've got your partner in crime. What do you want to do first?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet. He was rescued by the sound of footsteps, and they both stood up as Ron and Luna walked up the path to them. Ron looked guilty: Luna looked calm. Harry moved around to stand next to Luna, and Ron hesitantly walked forward to stand in front of Hermione, who looked at him quietly with a placid expression. After a few moments of silence, Ron swallowed hard and said, "I'm sorry, Hermione—I didn't mean for that to happen in front of you. Sometimes I can be a bloody idiot."

Hermione looked at him appraisingly and replied, "Well yes—sometimes you can be." Ron flinched, and was searching for something else to say when Hermione added, "But you more than make up for it most of the time, Ron." Ron's jaw dropped, and Hermione smiled slightly as she added, "I'm all right, Ron. We should talk about this sometime, though—I want to make sure we understand where we stand with each other." Ron nodded numbly, and Hermione inclined her head and concluded, "Now, I believe you have a new girlfriend to get acquainted with. Harry and I will be busy getting into mischief without you."

Harry was about to snicker at Ron's wide-eyed reaction to Hermione's calm acceptance of his new situation, but he was distracted by Luna's quiet words to him:

"I've done my part, Harry. It's your turn now."

Harry turned to face Luna, his eyes demanding an explanation. She was already leaving, with Ron on her arm and a secret smile on her face. Harry almost went after them, but remembered that Hermione was still waiting for him. He sighed in mild frustration, then turned back to Hermione. They had an afternoon to plan for.

---

Neville felt dizzy, and settled back further into the soft pillow on his hospital bed. He felt the needle coming out of his arm, and saw the healer come over and tap the place where it had been with his wand, healing it instantly. Neville sighed, and the healer smiled at him and said quietly, "Time to drink your Blood Replenishing Potion and rest for a while until it has time to work, Neville."

Neville accepted the potion without argument and drank it down in one long draft. The healer nodded approvingly and called out, "Severus, the first two pints of blood are ready for you."

"Thank you, Miranda." Professor Snape came into view and accepted the large bottle from the healer. He walked over to a device that had Neville staring in fascination: an elaborate network of tubes and filters that terminated in a drip positioned over a small bottle. Neville watched as Snape attached the bottle of blood to a tube, and remained silent as the blood was drawn through the tubes and filters. As the blood moved along, part of it was drawn away by the filters and went into storage vessels along the sides, while the rest of it continued onward. About halfway through the process—it began to glow a light green. By the time it reached the drip, only a fraction of the blood was still moving along—and it was glowing brightly enough to cause Professor Snape to cast an eerie, flickering shadow across the almost empty ward. The bottle slowly filled, and Professor Snape nodded in satisfaction before turning to Neville and commenting, "You have powerful magic within you, Neville: it should help the potion work in a most satisfactory manner."

Neville was mildly startled by Snape's use of his first name, but the comment about his magic distracted him from reacting to it. "That's news to me, sir. My family almost had written me off as a Squib until I was eight and fell off a roof. Between that and school the last five years—"

"Near-Squibs don't pass all of their OWLs, Mr. Longbottom—even with the substantial assistance that Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger must have given you in the last year. You were a late bloomer, as they used to say—but it was always highly likely that you would turn out to have substantial power, given your background." Snape spoke absently, watching the glowing green liquid drip into the bottle as he continued, "Your grandmother meant well by giving you your father's wand, but it hindered your learning process—as Mr. Ollivander undoubtedly told you at length, a wizard or witch can only perform at their best with a wand specifically fitted to them. Of course, that doesn't explain why you were so atrocious in my class."

"To be honest, sir—it might have had a lot to do with the fact that I was completely terrified of you." The Blood Replenishing Potion had relaxed Neville and made him a little sleepy—he never would have said anything remotely like that to Snape if he was fully awake and alert. He was still aware enough to flinch a bit and look at Snape apologetically: "Uh, sorry sir."

Snape looked amused. "That's not an insult, Mr. Longbottom, and we're not in school. While I have had ample cause to be displeased with your academic performance until recently, I have had no grounds to fault your courtesy to me personally, though you have had a few scuffles with my Slytherins, if memory serves me. Nothing overly shameful, I would say." Neville relaxed a little, and was startled when Snape continued, "I always found it amusing how terrified some of you students are of me—simple dislike or even loathing would be far easier to understand. While you are in my class, you are constantly surrounded by potion ingredients that could reduce you to ashes or goo in an instant if mixed improperly, or inflict any number of lesser but still very permanent effects—and it's ME you chose to be afraid of?"

Neville blinked, then looked over at the smirking Potions professor with a thoroughly embarrassed expression on his face as he replied, "I never thought of it that way before, sir." Snape shrugged, and Neville decided that a new subject would be a good idea. He looked at the slowly filling bottle of glowing green liquid and asked, "Sir—if I had died at the Ministry, would you still have been able to save my parents? I hate to think that—" He lapsed into silence, feeling a bit guilty for the first time for having joined Harry and his other friends in the dangerous journey.

Snape scowled slightly, then sighed as he replied, "Mr. Longbottom, your actions were reckless, but they were also the result of the bonds of friendship, which I must acknowledge as being a powerful force--though I may deplore the actions they drive us to. Furthermore, I would suggest to you that the foreseeable consequences of your actions are quite enough to prick your conscience without burdening yourself with the unforeseeable ones." Neville swallowed hard and nodded, and Snape continued, "As for the answer to your question, there is no way to truly know. Your parents' other relatives are not as closely related, and the effect from their blood would be less."

Neville frowned. "I had the impression from listening to you speak that the potion would work somewhat even without the blood—and you're obviously distilling pure magic out of my blood. Would the potion use my parents' own magic to operate if it was administered without the added distilled magic?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Very nicely reasoned, Mr. Longbottom. If you had produced insights like that in my class, you might be continuing with me this fall." Neville smiled to acknowledge the compliment, and Snape continued, "Most beneficial potions draw on the magic of the person consuming it to some degree—this is why many potions do not work on muggles, or have radically different effects as opposed to those on magical beings. My new potion takes this principle to an extreme—since incurable Cruciatus damage is almost totally disabling to a wizard or witch, I designed it to draw as much magic as necessary from the body of the victim to repair the damage. If there is no other source of magic, the amount of magic drained from the patient could easily turn a weak wizard into a squib, or greatly weaken even a powerful wizard for months or years. By incorporating compatible distilled magic into the potion, the draining effect can be lessened or even eliminated altogether. The main limitation to the process is that distilled magic only retains its potency for a few days, and must be all from one wizard or witch." The last of the blood passed through the tubes and filled the bottle—which Snape corked and set aside. He turned back to Neville and looked at him with a scowl as he ordered, "Rest now. You will need to be strong enough to donate more in one hour."

Neville nodded and sank back into his pillow, his thoughts on his parents as he drifted off into sleep.

---

Hermione sipped her Butterbeer and looked over at Harry, who was watching her with a smile on his face. She smiled back at him and commented, "You certainly weren't exaggerating when you said we'd be doing things we never did before, Harry—I'm not sure how you're going to top the last few days."

Harry grinned—he was rather proud of what they had managed to accomplish the last few days, even with Tonks and Shacklebolt quietly tailing them while they went along. He had asked Hermione for a list of things that she wanted to see or do that she had never done before, and he had looked it over, added a few things of his own, and every afternoon they had gone off to do a couple of things on the list. On the afternoon of August 1st, they had traveled to Diagon Alley, and Hermione had gone into Flourish & Blott's with a simple instruction from Harry: pick out any ten books that are not directly connected to schoolwork, that you would like to read for simple pleasure. Hermione had searched the stacks for two hours, and come back with a stack of huge tomes and a hesitant look on her face. Harry had smiled, looked at the titles and nodded in approval, and paid the two hundred and forty Galleon price tag for the lot without blinking. Hermione had protested mildly as the wide-eyed clerk took the pile of books off to be owled back to Hogwarts, and Harry had replied, "Sirius would have wanted you to have those—and I like the idea of watching you read for no other reason than to have fun." Hermione had reluctantly accepted the gift, looking a bit dazed.

Later that day, they had visited Buckingham Palace with a group of tourists, and were looking at the furnishings with interest when Tonks—who looked like a middle-aged woman with greying hair and a limp—slipped up to them and whispered hesitantly: "Uh—someone would like to have tea with the two of you." Harry and Hermione had looked at each other, then followed Tonks and a couple of muggle security people into a small room—and their eyes widened as they recognized the dignified-looking old woman sitting at the table waiting for them. Tonks and the security people left, and the woman gestured for them to sit. They did, and for several minutes they all drank tea in silence. Harry felt the woman's eyes on him, and while it was not as powerful an experience as having Dumbledore similarly examine him, he could sense the decades of experience and wisdom behind the eyes of their host.

After about ten minutes, the woman gestured for Harry and Hermione to stand. They complied, and she watched them for a few moments more before commenting quietly, "I am kept informed about the most important events in your world, and I am given to understand that you have been facing dangers far beyond that which would seem sensible or just, given your years." Harry nodded—he found himself unable to respond coherently in words--and the Queen frowned, a touch of sadness entering her eyes as she continued, "Obviously, in this day and age the power of the Crown is far more circumscribed than it once was, even in the mundane world. However, I have a few contacts in your world, including Ms. Amelia Bones, and I have a roost set aside for owl post. If ever your need is dire and you believe that I can be of assistance to you, please send word. I will do what I can." She pressed a small button on the arm of her chair, and Tonks and the security people returned. The Queen smiled at the stunned young people in front of her and concluded, "Thank you for coming to visit my home—and for your service to the United Kingdom."

Harry was too startled to speak, but Hermione covered for both of them with a perfect curtsey and reply, "Thank you for granting us an audience, Your Highness." The Queen nodded, and the visitors left.

Outside the castle, Hermione turned to Harry and whispered fiercely, "You didn't know that was going to happen, did you?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "No—I most certainly did not." A muffled snicker came from the teenaged blonde walking ten feet behind them, and Harry took a moment to glare at Tonks before turning back to Hermione and suggesting that they call it a day.

The next afternoon had been spent closer to Hogwarts—they went through some of the less reputable shops in Knockturn Alley, with Tonks at their side and looking visibly uncomfortable, though Shacklebolt and three other Aurors were but a shout away outside the shops they entered. They only bought a few items that were more interesting than Dark, and Harry derived considerable enjoyment from listening to Hermione explain the magical operation of some of the more exotic items they looked at.

The third afternoon involved a floo trip to a location that Professor Dumbledore had provided for them upon request. A short walk followed, and after a few minutes Harry, Hermione, Tonks and Shacklebolt found themselves looking at Stonehenge. There were a few other tourists around—and Harry and Hermione quickly noticed that they were not the only people from the magical world who had come to see the ancient monument on that day. Harry slipped behind the others, not wanting to draw attention to himself on this particular occasion, and they all quietly walked around the perimeter. Harry felt a sense of awe from looking at something that had already been ancient beyond all imagining when Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin had joined forces to found Hogwarts. He looked at Hermione, and saw that her eyes were sparkling with fascination. He watched her, and for a few moments he found himself forgetting the ancient wonder in front of him and thinking about a wonder who he thought he had known for years—only to realize that he was just beginning to understand her. Hermione noticed his gaze and frowned, wondering what he was thinking about. He smiled back at her, and they both turned to look back at the weathered monoliths.

It was now the fourth afternoon—August 4th—and they were sitting in The Three Broomsticks, eating a light lunch and drinking Butterbeers. Hermione looked at Harry with an uncharacteristically playful expression and coaxed, "Come on, Harry—tell me what we're going to do today."

Harry smiled at Hermione and replied with a wicked grin, "You're just going to have to wait to find out, Miss Granger. I don't believe in opening presents early."

"Well now—isn't this cozy."

Hermione's mouth twisted into an ugly snarl at the sound of the unpleasantly familiar voice, and she turned to face the new arrival as she asked, "So, Harry—when are we leaving for our tour of the insecticide factory?"

"I see that your personality is as nasty as ever, Ms. Granger." Rita Skeeter pulled up a chair and smiled at the two Hogwarts students. "On the other hand, here you are with Harry—are you two ready to admit I wasn't as wrong about that article I wrote about you in your fourth year at Hogwarts as you've always claimed?"

Madam Rosmerta appeared suddenly, looking angry. "Is she bothering you, Harry? I've got half-a-dozen volunteers to bounce the old hag out on her bum if you give the word."

Harry looked at Hermione, and only she saw the wicked twinkle in his eyes before he turned back to Rosmerta and replied, "No, everything is fine—for now. Rita's behaving herself." Rosmerta looked dubious as she left, and Hermione looked furious, but Harry ignored both reactions as he turned to Rita and said quietly, "I'd be glad to give you a statement on the subject, Rita." The reporter's eyes widened in surprise, and she scrambled for a quill as Harry began, "I am relaxing in preparation for the big charity Quidditch match, to be held at Hogwarts on August 8th, and for which tickets are still available. The proceeds will be dedicated to the fight against Voldemort—" Harry waited for Rita to stop cringing and to write "You-Know-Who" on the parchment before he continued: "—and I encourage everyone to attend. Hermione was kind enough to accompany me as I took the time to see some sights that my, ah, busy schedule has not permitted me to take in before. We are not dating—Hermione is far too sensible a witch, and knows me far too well, to get tangled up with me in the romantic sense. However, if she ever happens to lose her common sense and decides that I'm boyfriend material, I would consider myself very fortunate to have won the affections of such a beautiful, charming, and intelligent witch." Harry sighed inwardly as he finished the last sentence: he had known that Rita would probably turn up, and he had gone to Remus to help him compose a perfect statement to deal with her probable reaction to finding Harry and Hermione in public together. I hope I didn't go overboard there—Hermione is likely to be annoyed with me.

Rita wasn't bothering with skepticism—she scribbled madly, then looked up and smiled at him: "Well said, Harry—even if you're downplaying her nasty temper." Harry winced and waited for Hermione to react angrily, but Hermione seemed to be a bit distracted for some reason. He turned back to Rita, who said, "Since you're giving me an exclusive, I'll even leave in that commercial for the Quidditch match beforehand—the Daily Prophet is promoting that constantly anyway." Harry nodded, and Rita leaned in and asked, "Were you serious about inviting Slytherins to join your fight against You-Know-Who, Harry? That news out of your birthday party has provoked a lot of reaction in the public."

Harry had been expecting this—he knew that a speech made in front of more than a hundred guests would inevitably leak to the media, and he hadn't said anything that he hadn't wanted to be made public. He looked at Hermione again, and she thought his eyes looked positively evil in the moment before he turned back to Rita, looking a little sad. "Rita—I've got another exclusive for you: it's something I've never made public, and might help the public understand why I am willing to reach out to Slytherins now after years of. . .shall we say less than friendly relations." Rita nodded, and Harry could practically hear her heart beating faster at the thought of two exclusive quotes from Harry in one day. Harry smiled again and began, "As you know, when I received my letter from Hogwarts on my eleventh birthday, I knew nothing of the Wizarding World, and just as little about Hogwarts. During the time between my receiving the letter and my encounter with the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, I had the misfortune of meeting a young wizard who was to be in my entering class at Hogwarts. He succeeded in insulting me and those who had been kind enough to befriend me, and he—together with two thuggish students who have accompanied him like inept bodyguards ever since—threatened me when I declined to accept his offer of friendship after those offenses. He went before me in the Sorting, and was instantly Sorted into Slytherin, as were his thuggish friends. The Hat had a harder time with me—it informed me that I would do well in Slytherin, and why not? I freely admit to being ambitious, resourceful, determined, and willing to go outside the rules when I think there's a good reason for it—all qualities prized by Salazar Slytherin along with his unfortunate beliefs about pure-bloodedness that Voldemort and his flunkies are obsessed with. . .which is quite funny, when one finds out that he's really a half-blood." Rita paused at the last sentence, and stared at Harry, who nodded in confirmation before continuing and lying through his teeth: "But I didn't know that the murderer of my parents had been a Slytherin, nor that any of his followers had been. All I knew was that one particular loathsome individual was a Slytherin, and that I wanted no part of any House that would so eagerly admit him. I begged the Hat not to put me in Slytherin, and it put me in Gryffindor without further prompting. Given all of the adventures I have had as a member of the honorable House of Gryffindor, I sometimes find it amazing that I probably would have been a Slytherin were it not for the misconduct of Draco Malfoy. Knowing that I almost ended up there leads me to believe that there must be some students who ended up there without knowing about the company they'd be sharing, and that those students would be glad to join in the fight against darkness if we are willing to reach out to them and accept them for what they are, not the House colors they wear."

Rita finished writing and stared at Harry. "This is great material, Harry—the Prophet's readers will love it!" Harry nodded, and Rita blinked and looked at him suspiciously before asking, "What's the catch?"

"No catch, Rita—call it a test." Harry locked eyes with Rita, and he saw her shiver a little at the intensity of his gaze as he added, "If you print what I said without any of the distortions you were so fond of in the past, I'll take it as a sign that you can be trusted, and will give you more of the same. Since you had a record of being less than kind to me in the past until the article in the Quibbler last year, that gives you credibility that makes you useful to me. If you violate my trust, though, I will denounce you publicly and find another reporter to benefit from my generosity. Since I am rather more popular than once was the case, that will not be good for your career. Do we understand each other?"

Rita nodded slowly and stood up, commenting, "The Hat was right, Harry—you would have made a bloody good Slytherin." Harry smiled coldly, and Rita added, "We have a bargain—this material will be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow, barring an outbreak of war or the like." She turned to leave, then turned back to Harry—visibly curious: "Is there nothing else you want to tell me about yourself and Ms. Granger, Harry?"

Harry was mildly annoyed, and did not note that Rita was carefully watching Hermione's face rather than his as he replied, "Off the record, Rita—if Hermione and I ever get together, I guarantee you an exclusive accompanied with a photo suitable for the front page of the Daily Prophet. Don't hold your breath waiting to collect on that."

Rita nodded, and left, smiling to herself. Harry, if that expression on Ms. Granger's face means what it usually does, I'll be collecting on that promise very soon indeed. You're a clever little bastard, but you are still very young and very naïve—I hope that doesn't stop you from beating You-Know-Who when the time comes.

Harry turned back to Hermione, who had recovered sufficiently to observe, "You do realize that by tomorrow morning, every Slytherin at Hogwarts will believe—" Harry noted the wording and that Hermione had noticed the few less-than-accurate parts of his account to Rita, "--that it's all Draco's fault that they didn't have you in their House for the past five years—and that Voldemort and the Death Eaters will also know that?"

Harry smiled, and the look in his eyes as he did made Hermione shiver as he replied, "Oh yes—I am fully aware of that, Hermione. A down payment on a debt he and his miserable family have been running up for many years now."

Hermione began to open her mouth to register concern about Harry's ruthlessness, but she closed it as she realized that—given the opportunity—she would have done something even worse to Draco and his parents. She decided to change the subject and commented, "You were rather. . .dramatic when you were talking about your impressions of me, Harry—do you really think that was the best way to go?'

"Telling the truth about the way I see you, Hermione? Yes, I'm pretty comfortable with that." Harry was looking away from Hermione again, and did not see her expression change as he continued, "Might as well use all this hero worship nonsense to good effect. A lot of people are going to find out that I think—for very good reason—that you'd make a great girlfriend, and that you're not seeing me. Maybe your Prince Charming will read it and come to sweep you off your feet—and then I'll be the only one in our little group who can't find someone right for them. You deserve to find someone who appreciates you and is right for you, Hermione."

Hermione was silent, and Harry turned back to her, still talking: "We need to finish eating and go, Hermione—the afternoon is only so long." He looked at her and frowned: "Why are you looking so depressed?"

"I'm not," replied Hermione, briskly reaching for her fork and resuming her lunch. "Just a bit tired, I suppose."

Harry frowned, and went back to eating. I really don't understand girls sometimes—I need to talk to Remus for some tips.

---

It was mid-evening of August 5th, and several of the members of the Order of the Phoenix were meeting in Professor Dumbledore's office to share information about recent events. Dumbledore sat quietly in his chair, with Fawkes watching the others in the office from the back of the chair. McGonagall yawned and stretched in a manner that was far more reminiscent of her Animagus form than of a middle-aged professor. Remus Lupin was polishing his wand and looking at Tonks—who had purple hair and was wearing red robes. Snape, for once, was not scowling, and looked content to wait for the meeting to begin. Kingsley Shacklebolt, on the other hand, was checking his pocket watch every so often—he had early duties in the morning before he was scheduled to join Tonks in watching Harry and Hermione during the afternoon. Dumbledore saw Shacklebolt's fidgeting and smiled at old memories before announcing, "As the hour is late and we all have other matters to attend to, I suggest we keep our reports to the essentials. I will begin—preparations for the Quidditch match are going smoothly, and ticket sales are approaching one hundred thousand. Apparation areas have been prepared around Hogsmeade, which will accommodate those unable to reach Portkey sites or take the Hogwarts Express. Kingsley and Amelia Bones have been most helpful in insuring that there will be adequate protection from the Aurors to discourage any efforts by the Death Eaters to disrupt the game or to attack the spectators." He turned to Professor McGonagall and invited, "Minerva?"

"The spellwork is going right on schedule, and we will be able to incorporate the suggestions of Mr. Thomas and Mr. Finnegan without affecting our deadlines. Furthermore, we've modified the charms on the field so that our designated Omnioculars can produce multiple copies, but no one else's can—those match replays should raise quite a few Galleons if it is as good as I suspect it will be." McGonagall looked rather pleased, and she added, "I can't wait to see how Harry does in front of a crowd that large."

"Neither can I, Minerva." Dumbledore nodded to McGonagall, and turned to Snape: "Severus, I believe you have some very good news for us."

"Yes, I do," replied Snape. The others leaned in to listen, and Snape continued, "I have distilled as much magic out of young Mr. Longbottom's blood as will stay potent at one time, and will be ready to add it to the anti-Cruciatus potion tomorrow morning. Neville's magic is rather more potent than we might have expected from most of his time here—" McGonagall winced, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as Snape continued, "—and I believe that by tomorrow evening, Frank and Alice Longbottom will have regained their sanity and will be ready to recuperate under the protection of the Order."

Lupin looked at Snape, stood up, and began to applaud. After a moment, the others in the room stood up and joined him. Snape blinked in surprise, and waited for the applause to end before he coughed self-consciously and commented, "You may feel differently as time goes on. The Dark Lord also knows of the existence of my potion, and he intends to use it to facilitate extended interrogations using Cruciatus, draining the magic of the victims for long periods or even permanently in the process. We may pay a dear price for regaining the Longbottoms."

"Nonetheless, your accomplishment deserves recognition, Severus, and having Frank and Alice back will improve morale somewhat in the light of recent tragedies. Well done." Snape nodded, and Dumbledore changed the subject: "Severus, what can you tell us about the current activities of Voldemort and the Death Eaters?"

"The Death Eaters are lying low for the moment at a location I cannot reveal precisely, as it is protected by the Fidelius Charm. It is somewhat to the west of London, however. The Dark Lord has given orders for all who serve him to avoid any activities that might attract attention, while looking for opportunities to recruit new members. As for the Dark Lord himself. . .he went into seclusion tonight, just before I came here to join you. He left orders not to be disturbed, but I know for a fact that he had already seen this." He dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet on Dumbledore's desk, and opened it to the front page, where the headline read "Harry Potter Speaks About Love, Rivalries, and Quidditch." Snape looked up to see that Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling more furiously than ever, and McGonagall was turning red in a futile effort to avoid laughing. Lupin was smiling proudly, and Tonks and Shacklebolt were looking very much like people who knew they were about to be yelled at, and knew there was no escape. "I'm glad you all find this so amusing, but Draco Malfoy may need a full-time guard of Aurors to keep from being murdered by his housemates or by Death Eaters after this little indiscretion by Potter."

"Yeah, because we have Aurors to spare to protect traitorous little gits from poetic justice," muttered Tonks. Shacklebolt gave her a mildly reproving look, but his heart didn't seem to be in it.

"I'm sure that you will be able to convince your students that harming Mr. Malfoy is not appropriate, no matter what the effects of his youthful indiscretions were on the history of your House, Severus. As for the Death Eaters, I will meet with Mr. Malfoy at some point and determine whether he might wish to consider alternative arrangements for his future under the circumstances." Snape's eyes widened at the last comment, and he nodded curtly. Dumbledore frowned, then added, "Severus—is there any other reason Rita Skeeter's article about Harry is disturbing you?"

Snape scowled, then replied, "Aside from the threat it posed to one of my student's lives, Potter's story about how he came to be in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin made for interesting reading, and suggests that we might wish to make sure the muggleborn students coming into Hogwarts are more thoroughly educated about the backgrounds of the Founders and the Houses, so that they do not choose their House out of ignorance or anger. Potter—his comments aside—obviously belonged in Gryffindor, but his suggestion that others might have ended up in the wrong house is worth considering. However, the Dark Lord was rather furious with Potter for his indiscreet revelation that he is a half-blood. I believe he is plotting a terrible revenge."

"And how exactly is this different from what he's been trying to do to Harry for five years now?" Tonks commented acidly, shaking her head in anger. "Good for Harry for hitting that bastard where it hurts—maybe it will slow down his recruiting efforts among the pureblooded bigots out there."

Snape scowled at Tonks and replied coldly, "Potter may be safe personally—and even his friends may be protected, but the Dark Lord and his followers are still merciless killers, and they no longer need to hide their existence—only their current whereabouts. I have little regard for Potter in many ways, but his compassion for others is by now a matter of public record. How will he react if, say, Bellatrix Lestrange and several other Death Eaters slaughter a dozen children in Diagon Alley and announce, 'A gift from the Dark Lord to Harry Potter,' before apparating away? That is an act well within their powers, and one we may be helpless to prevent. It will be a weight on his spirit that will be hard to bear, and it may only be the least of what is to come."

"Your concerns are well-expressed, Severus—and we will need to find a way to help Harry deal with them, before that terrible moment comes. However, it is important that we be seen as fighting back, and Harry's revelations will be interpreted by the public as a strike back against Voldemort." Snape nodded again, and Dumbledore turned to Tonks: "Nymphadora—Harry certainly seemed to be in control of the information flow in his encounter with Rita Skeeter: how are he and Hermione doing in their daily adventures?"

Tonks pointedly ignored Dumbledore's usage of her first name and described the first three days of Harry and Hermione's afternoon trips together. The Order members chuckled a few times at the stories, particularly at the students' awed reaction to meeting the Queen. Tonks recounted the conversation between Harry and Rita at The Three Broomsticks, and Snape was moved to raise an eyebrow and mutter, "He might have made a worthy Slytherin at that—his unfortunate parentage aside."

Lupin glared at Snape, and commented, "Harry came to me to help him come up with that statement about his relationship with Hermione, but as far as I know he came up with the story about his early experiences in the wizarding world on his own—including a few creative interpretations of the facts, if I recall Harry's description of those days to me correctly. He is definitely becoming more sophisticated, and a bit more ruthless."

McGonagall frowned. "Harry certainly went out of his way to sing Hermione's praises—I know he was very angry about the things that Skeeter woman said about Hermione during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. How did she react to it all?"

Tonks frowned. She had her own suspicions about Hermione's reaction, but no proof, and she simply reported what she had observed, including Hermione's expressions and that she had been silent after Harry had told Rita how he felt about Hermione. Lupin raised an eyebrow, but the others seemed to think that both Harry and Hermione had handled an unpleasant situation well. Dumbledore asked Tonks to continue her account, and she described Harry's and Hermione's activities over the next two afternoons before they moved on to other matters.

The meeting broke up twenty minutes later, and Dumbledore's visitors headed down the stairs and on their separate ways. Lupin pulled Tonks aside and asked her quietly, "Was there something you didn't mention about Harry and Hermione at The Three Broomsticks?"

Tonks frowned, then replied, "When Harry asked Hermione if she was depressed, he hadn't looked at her until her expression had changed somewhat from when she first reacted to what he was saying. She looked more frustrated to me than depressed at first." Lupin smiled involuntarily, and Tonks scowled at him. "What's the joke?"

"I think we're about to find out what happens when an immovable object meets an immovable object," Lupin commented with a deadpan expression.

"Wait—isn't that when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?" Tonks was confused.

"No—both of them have a long way to go before they're irresistible in any context, but they're both more stubborn than any two people I've met, with the possible exception of their friend Ron—and that's with my best friends in school being the Marauders and Lily Evans." Lupin sighed and shook his head, adding, "I have a feeling that the next few days are going to be dramatic for another reason besides the Quidditch match."

Tonks frowned, then brightened as she looked at the former Hogwarts professor appraisingly and suggested, "Come on—you can explain it to me over Fire Whiskeys at The Three Broomsticks." She changed form abruptly: she was now tall, blonde, and shapely, and her robes had turned bright blue. "Come on, Remus—the night isn't getting any younger."

Neither am I, thought Lupin, but he followed Tonks with a mildly bewildered smile on his face.

---

"All right, Neville—sit on the stool in front of your parents' beds, and be sure to smile at them." The healer and Neville were the only people in the room with Neville's still-disabled parents, and the healer held two large potion vials—both of which were glowing a pale green. "It's vital that they be reassured when they regain their sense of reality."

Neville nodded, and the healer administered the potions: first to Frank Longbottom, then to Alice Longbottom. Both patients gasped, and Neville watched in fascination as the potion visibly began to take effect. Snape had explained that he had incorporated cosmetic elements into the potion, as the gaunt, wasted state of a long-term patient was bound to be demoralizing to a recovering Cruciatus sufferer. As Neville watched, his parents' hair turned dark and their faces filled out, as if they had gained weight. Their eyes lost their haunted look and their expressions turned placid. Neville held his breath and prayed.

After a few minutes, Frank Longbottom gasped, and he blinked once. His gaze focused on Neville, and Neville was sure that he saw recognition in his father's dark eyes before they fluttered close and he slumped to the mattress, already in a deep sleep. Neville bit his lip: both the healer and Snape had warned him this would happen, but it was still disturbing to see his father lying so still.

Alice Longbottom gasped, and her eyes immediately went to Neville. Neville smiled at her, and Alice Longbottom's eyes brimmed with tears as she whispered, "Neville?"

Neville moved forward and grasped her hand, squeezing hard and whispering back, "Yes, mum. It's Neville. I'm all right, and you will be too."

Alice smiled, and slumped: Neville caught her and gently lowered her to the bed, kissing her brow before releasing her and standing up. The healer was watching him, visibly moved by the scene. "That was very well done, Neville: they will rest well and continue healing now. You have visitors waiting for you outside: we will notify you immediately when your parents are strong enough to see you."

Neville nodded and turned for the door, trying to keep his composure until he has left his parents behind. He blinked, and his vision blurred with tears. He went through the doors, and heard a voice ask, "How are your parents, Neville?"

Neville didn't recognize the voice in the state he was in: all he was aware of was the dam of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him, and that the blurred figures ahead of him would be able to help him deal with them. He managed to choke out, "They're going to be all right," before burying his face in the center of one of the robed figures in front of him and breaking down into long, racking sobs. Neville felt the person stiffen, as if in shock, but after a moment he felt a hand patting him on the back in a somewhat irregular pattern, as if the person was unaccustomed to comforting someone in this way. After he had cried for a while and began to regain his senses, he put two and two together and felt a chill. Oh, no—I didn't! He gingerly pulled away from the person—who was wearing midnight black robes—and found himself looking into the fathomless black eyes of Professor Snape, who looked rather uncomfortable. He swallowed hard and prepared to come up with the most epic apology ever: "Professor Snape—I am so sor—"

"Mr. Longbottom, if I may speak, please." Neville shut up immediately, and Snape studied him carefully before continuing, "As you know, this matter is not to be discussed with anyone except the persons in this room, and your grandmother. It is a secret, and as such I see no need to dwell in depth on any part of it—most specifically this last part of it. In fact, I will expect you never to bring up this incident to me again. Am I understood?"

"Yes. Yes sir. Thank you sir." Neville felt a surge of relief almost as powerful as the one he had experienced at seeing his parents recover, and was startled when the other person in the room placed a small metal instrument in his hand. He turned, then asked, "What is this, Professor Dumbledore?"

"A kazoo, Neville. It's a Muggle musical instrument, but more to the point, it's a Portkey back to the Hogwarts infirmary—your grandmother is waiting for you there, and Madam Pomfrey will wish to examine you to make sure you are fully recovered." Dumbledore smiled, and instructed, "Blow on the mouthpiece, and you will be on your way."

Neville complied, and vanished. Dumbledore smiled, then turned to face Snape. He was in the process of beginning another sentence, but the Potions Master was ready and snarled:

"Not a word, old man."

Dumbledore closed his mouth, but his eyes twinkled merrily as he produced another Portkey and took Snape's hand. They both vanished, leaving the room empty.

---

"Neville! It's wonderful to have you back—how are you?"

Hermione—probably Neville's closest friend among the other five students staying at Hogwarts—was the first to greet him as he walked into the Great Hall five minutes before the evening feast was to be served. She hugged him firmly, then released him to allow the others—including Ginny, who had arrived only half an hour before—to greet Neville. He smiled at the attention he was receiving, then replied, "I'm fine. Five days of Blood Replenishing potions is not a fun experience, but the healers assure me that I am completely cured, and need not worry about a relapse. Anyway, enough about me—what happened while I was gone?" There was a moment of silence, and Neville noticed that Ron and Luna were holding hands, and that Luna was smiling fondly at Ron. "Oh."

"Right, they can tell you about that later." Hermione sounded mildly annoyed, but there was still a smile on her face as she nodded at the Head Table. "For now, let's sit down—I'm hungry."

The others complied, and everyone ate in silence for a while until Professor Dumbledore announced, "For those who have not heard the news, Professor McGonagall's team has successfully conjured the stands for the match, and has also succeeded in incorporating the new ideas proposed by Mr. Thomas and Mr. Finnegan. Both teams will be arriving tomorrow to inspect the field and to get a feel for it, and Mr. Thomas will be here to demonstrate how the Omniocular display board works and to familiarize the players with it."

Harry stood and raised his glass: "To Professor McGonagall and her team: may the match on the 8th be worthy of their fine efforts!" Everyone raised their glasses and drank the toast, and Harry raised his glass again: "And to Dean and Seamus—who had the sense to apply a Muggle idea to improve the best sport in the world!"

Everyone drank the second toast, and Ron turned to Ginny—who was chatting with Luna—and commented, "Your boyfriend had a very good idea—you must be pretty proud of him."

"I am proud of Dean," replied Ginny, helping herself to more mashed potatoes, "but he isn't my boyfriend any more."

Harry blinked, and beat Ron to the obvious next question: "Uh—since when?"

Ginny shrugged. "We spent a lot of time together over the last few days, and had a chance to talk. He's nice, and he's interesting—but we're just not suited for each other. When it came right down to it, he's just a little bit too terrified of a certain redhead's temper for me to be happy with him."

Hermione glared at Ron, who looked ready to defend himself against the implied accusation before Ginny rescued him: "Not Ron's temper, Hermione: mine."

Ginny's deadpan comment provoked general laughter, though the laughs coming from the boys were a bit nervous.

After everyone had finished eating, Harry left quickly, calling out to Hermione that he'd meet her at the Room of Requirement in half an hour. Hermione nodded and stopped to talk to Professor McGonagall. Ron and Luna slipped away without a word, while the other professors walked out together. Neville nodded to the others, then walked out and headed for Gryffindor Tower. He was quite tired, and he was looking forward to seeing the transformed Quidditch pitch and waiting for word about his parents. He was in a quiet hallway near the Fat Lady's portrait when he heard a whisper in his ear: "Nile Valley Soul Fever, huh? How in the world did you catch that?"

Neville felt a chill as he turned to face Ginny, who had an inquisitive and completely innocent expression on her face. Every nerve in his body screamed "Danger!" He forced himself to calm down. she's smart, but she can't read your mind. Madam Pomfrey has given you a cover story—stick to it.

Neville feigned an indifferent expression before shrugging and replying, "I don't have any idea, Ginny—I'd never heard of it until Madam Pomfrey told me about it. Who knows where I could have picked up a weird disease like that? I'm just glad I'm cured of it in time to see the big Quidditch match." He was quite proud of his delivery of the blatant lie, and was deeply unnerved to see Ginny raise an eyebrow and snicker. He scowled at her and snapped, "What's the joke?"

Ginny smiled slowly, and her reply sent a chill down Neville's spine: "That's just it--it isn't a disease. It's a curse, placed by Egyptian wizards on the tombs of their pharaohs to deal with would-be robbers. It causes slow, wasting death unless it is broken, which isn't easy. It killed a lot of the muggles who uncovered the tomb of Tutankhamen back in the 1920s. You can't get it any other way, and it isn't contagious." Neville felt sweat begin to trickle down his brow as Ginny shook her head sadly and added, "Madam Pomfrey was very clever to pick a condition that Hermione would have no way of knowing about--but she didn't count on one of the Weasleys actually paying attention to the stories Bill told." Neville paled, and Ginny added, "I also noticed you leaving with Snape the night of the party, and I read the article in The Daily Prophet that said your parents were put into isolation. I may not be as clever as Hermione, but I can put that puzzle together without much trouble, Neville."

Neville swallowed hard, and took Ginny's hand, leading her to a nearby closet. He led her inside, then pulled his wand and cast locking and silence charms on the door. Ginny raised an eyebrow, and Neville turned to her and told her the whole story, beginning with Snape pulling him aside and ending with his parents' cure: he only omitted the embarrassing incident with Snape after he left his parents. Ginny listened in silence, and when he was finished she put her arms around him and hugged him softly, whispering, "I'm so happy for you, Neville."

Neville felt a burst of warmth towards his friend, but the gnawing fear was still there, and he whispered desperately: "Ginny—you can't tell anyone I told you this. Snape made me promise, and he was right to do so. If Vol-Voldemort knew they were all right—"

"I understand, Neville. I won't tell anyone, though you have a lot of friends who would love to share your happiness—it might even have made them like Snape a bit more for a while." Neville laughed at the joke, and Ginny reached out and squeezed his hand as she added with a wicked grin "I will want to meet them soon, though."

Neville stared at Ginny—her expression seemed a bit odd, given what they were talking about, and he frowned in confusion as he asked, "Why do you want to meet them, Ginny?"

Ginny looked into his eyes and smiled softly, then leaned up and put her arms around Neville's neck as she kissed him firmly on the lips. Neville was caught completely by surprise, but he found his hands moving around her waist as he returned the kiss. They stayed that way for a few seconds before Ginny pulled away and waited for Neville to regain the knack of breathing normally before she replied, "I think it will do wonders for your parents' recovery if you can introduce them to your girlfriend."

Neville blinked, and stared at Ginny with a disbelieving expression that would have been appropriate if she had told him that she had just founded the Draco Malfoy Fan Club. He would not later be able to remember what made him ask, "Don't I get any say in this?"

Ginny looked at him with a calculating expression that made Neville think that Harry might not have been the only one who easily could have been sorted into Slytherin, and replied, "Neville, the people we go to school with read the newspapers, and it's become pretty well-known what you did with the rest of us in June. Add that to the fact that you're getting more handsome and charming every year, and the bottom line is that when we start school again in the fall, you're going to be the prime target of every snobby pureblooded witch at Hogwarts--mostly Slytherins--who doesn't want to end up marrying a baby Death-Eater. Would you rather deal with them, or me?"

Neville blinked again, and thought about the situation for fully thirty seconds before he pulled Ginny back to him and returned the kiss she had given him, with interest. He took a moment to enjoy the unfocused look in her beautiful eyes when he released her, then commented, "Well, if you're daft enough to actually want me as a boyfriend, I'm certainly not going to put up a fight." Ginny grinned at him, and Neville felt a last pang of doubt. He looked into Ginny's eyes and asked quietly, "Why me, Ginny?"

Ginny sighed, put her arms around Neville's neck, and whispered, "You've spent most of the time since you first arrived at Hogwarts hiding from the world, Neville. Most people didn't notice, but I did—I knew that you'd show us who you really were sooner or later, if something or someone pushed you hard enough to make you stand and fight. You're brave, and you're loyal, and you're sweet—and everyone is going to notice it sooner than you can imagine, Neville. I'm swooping in before the Christmas rush and keeping you for myself." Neville stared at Ginny, and she smiled wickedly and added, "Besides, I need someone with the courage to stand up to my brothers—and me."

Merlin help me! Neville ignored the tiny voice coming from the more timid side of his soul, and leaned in to kiss Ginny again.

---

Cho sat at her desk and stared at the letter with Professor Dumbledore's signature, and at the shiny silver badge which read simply: Head Girl. After the unpleasantness of the last year, the news was more exciting than anything she could imagine. Her parents still didn't know—she would have to figure out the best way to tell them—

"Cho."

Cho turned at the sound of her mother's voice—which sounded a little odd. "Yes, Mother?"

"Come down to the living room. Someone's making a floo call to you." Cho's mother looked a bit stunned, and Cho was concerned enough to frown and stand up immediately, but that wasn't fast enough for the older woman. "Hurry, dear." She turned away, apparently not noticing the Head Girl badge that had been in plain view on Cho's desk.

Cho scowled. Who could be in such a hurry to reach me that owl post wouldn't do? If Michael is showing off, I'll-- She terminated the thought, and ran down the stairs-the sooner she could finish talking with whoever it was, the better. She reached the bottom of the stairs and looked over to the fireplace—and stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping. After a moment, she managed to regain her composure and say simply, "Hello, Harry."

Harry smiled at Cho and replied, "Hey, Cho." Cho managed to smile back weakly at Harry, and he added, "Hey—Professor Dumbledore told me about you getting Head Girl. Congratulations!"

Cho heard a muffled squeak from the hallway, and heard the sound of her mother running up the stairs. So much for figuring out how to tell them.

Harry heard the squeak and saw Cho wince, and immediately looked contrite: "They didn't know? Sorry about that."

"It's all right, Harry—saves me the trouble of doing it, and I suspect Mother will tell the story of you breaking the news for years to come." Cho sighed, and looked over at Harry as she asked, "Nice of you to go to the trouble of a floo call just to congratulate me."

"That's not the only reason I'm calling, Cho." Cho's eyes widened at the serious tone in Harry's voice, and she listened carefully as Harry added, "How would you like to get a better seat for the match?"

"Harry—I've already got a reserved seat in the Hogwarts box. There isn't a better seat to be had in the stands." Cho frowned, puzzled. "You know that."

"That's right," Harry replied, looking pleased with himself. "There's not a better seat to be had—in the stands."

Cho only took an instant more to get what Harry was driving at, and her jaw dropped again: "No way."

Harry nodded. "Both of Puddlemere United's Seekers are away, which is how I ended up involved in this whole thing to begin with. David Robinson gave me a free hand in choosing my backup in case I take a Bludger in the skull or something else nasty happens. I choose you."

Cho had a sudden impulse to run to get her owl and tell everyone she knew that she'd be on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch with the reserves of Puddlemere United in front of a hundred and fifty thousand people in less than forty eight hours. She started to turn—then remembered a Snitch being grabbed right in front of her eyes, and the frustrated tears that she had shed afterwards. She scowled at Harry and muttered, "What's wrong—Ginny having her hair done that day?"

"You know that Ginny's not of age to play in a professional Quidditch game—even an exhibition. Besides, even if she was, if I even suggested it Mrs. Weasley would rip my head off and use it as a Quaffle." Harry's wry comment provoked a laugh from Cho, but she scowled again after recovering. Harry sighed and added, "Look, Cho—Ginny's talented, but she doesn't have anywhere near your experience at Seeker. If something happens to me and I can't play, I want someone who can keep her head about her in a tough game. Even if she were available, I'd still want you for the job."

"Really?" Cho asked, looking at Harry and remembering why she had wanted to go out with him in the first place. He can be so sweet. Harry nodded, and Cho thought for a moment before she sighed and added with a rueful smile, "All right, Harry—you talked me into it. Thank you." She smiled at Harry again—this time a bit more seductively—and invited, "Why don't you come on through, Harry? We can talk about your strategy in the match, since I'm sure I won't actually get to play myself."

"Thanks, but I have to meet Hermione in the Room of Requirement in a few minutes. You ought to owl Michael—he'll want to hear about you being on the reserve squad." Harry smiled and nodded at Cho, and his head vanished from the fireplace.

Cho stared at the empty flames and sighed again. Why does being the new Head Girl, being involved in the biggest Quidditch match ever, and having a boyfriend wrapped around my little finger seem like a lot of consolation prizes all of a sudden? She shook her head in annoyance and went upstairs to tell her parents the news.

---

Harry walked into the Room of Requirement—just in time to watch Hermione transfigure a large tub of oatmeal into a Galapagos tortoise. The huge, placid reptile looked quietly at Harry, then began munching on the lettuce that Hermione had left for it. Harry grinned at Hermione and commented, "That's fantastic, Hermione! How long will the change last?"

"Not long," Hermione replied. She nodded to Harry and watched as the tortoise trudged off to a quiet corner. "You know the basic principles of Transfiguration—the more radical the transformation, the shorter the duration of the change. It's a nice tactic for distraction, though." She smiled at Harry and asked, "Have you come up with anything new?"

"New spells? No." Harry replied calmly, causing Hermione to raise her eyebrow suspiciously as she noted his wording. Harry noticed the reaction and turned to face a large wooden target as he raised his wand. Hermione heard a soft hiss, then a bright beam came from Harry's wand, reducing the target to splinters. Hermione's eyes widened at the obvious demonstration of a Reductor Curse, and Harry turned back to her with a smug expression as he noted, "But that trick might catch someone off guard pretty well."

"You cast that spell in Parseltongue? Harry—that's unbelievable! How did you learn to do that so quickly? You only found that book a week ago!" Hermione had seen "Magic For Parseltongues"—written by one of the few non-Dark wizards to ever possess the incredibly rare talent—on the list of tomes donated by D.A. members, but she hadn't even looked at it, knowing that Harry was the only one who could make use of it. "What's the trick to it?"

"There are some spells that can only be cast in Parseltongue, but I didn't bother to try to learn those yet—I can tell they'll be tough to master." Hermione nodded at Harry's comment, and Harry continued, "I figured that being able to cast spells with hisses instead of words would give me an edge in fights with most dark wizards, as no one else except Voldemort can understand Parseltongue, and most curses and hexes are cast with a simple point of the wand along with the incantation. The trick was getting the right state of mind to cast the spell. Parseltongue isn't English, or even a language which translates directly from it—"

"So you can't just think 'Wingardium Leviosa' in English and have it come out in Parseltongue when you speak." Hermione commented bluntly.

"Exactly." Harry smiled—pleased to be talking to someone intelligent enough to realize the difficulty of the problem without actually having to have it explained to her or experience it firsthand. He continued, "You still need to be thinking the correct incantation—our experience with those spells are heavily tied up in the traditional incantation, and it would take a long time to break any of us of the old habits, I would think. But you need to come up with a spoken equivalent in Parseltongue that directly translates—for the Reductor Curse it's an easy one: 'Destroy.' For the Stunning Spell it's 'Sleep.' I've tried four or five others, all simple but effective spells."

Hermione nodded—fascinated by the combination of Harry's rare talent and relatively routine magic. Her mind began drifting towards obvious possibilities for the ability, and she paled briefly before asking quietly, "Harry—you haven't tried using this with any of the Unforgivables, have you?"

"No—I know the Ministry of Magic is being a lot nicer to me these days, but I didn't want to push my luck." Harry didn't take offense at Hermione's question, though he looked rueful as he added, "I'd bet that the Parseltongue versions are pretty simple, though: 'Hypnotize' for Imperius, 'Pain' for Cruciatus, and—"

"'Die!' for Avada Kedavra." Hermione whispered, looking almost ill. Harry nodded reluctantly, and Hermione shook her head in dismay as she asked, "Do you think Voldemort knows how to use Parseltongue this way?"

"There's no way to know. The book is very rare, and—in case you didn't notice—it came directly from Professor Dumbledore's private collection." Hermione nodded at Harry's reply as he continued: "As far as I know, he didn't use it any of the times he cast spells in my presence. He might be hiding the trick from his followers, or he just might be out of practice doing it. Or he's so arrogant that he wants his victim to know what's coming—if he cast Avada Kedavra with just 'Die!' in Parseltongue, it would probably be a lot faster, and no one but me would realize what he had done until it was too late. I need to make sure Professor Dumbledore knows about this—he might duel Voldemort again and get caught off guard."

Hermione nodded again, this time in agreement, and brightened a bit as she changed the subject: "This will be our last night here—you're going to need a lot of rest tomorrow evening before the match. What should we do?"

Harry looked around the room and gave the splintered remains of the practice target he had just blasted a disdainful look as he replied, "I'm tired of shooting at things that don't move or think. I'd like a more interesting challenge." He turned to Hermione and puffed himself up in an obvious attempt to simulate Draco's customary arrogant manner before he called out in the most obnoxious tone he could muster: "Miss Granger—I challenge you to a duel!"

Hermione tried to keep a straight face in spite of Harry's absurd mugging, but she soon lost the battle and began giggling. Harry watched her and maintained the pose until Hermione calmed down and responded: "I accept—if you promise never to do that again: it's very disturbing." Harry sighed sadly, then relaxed, and Hermione shook her head in mild relief before asking, "Very well, then: what are the rules going to be? Keeping in mind, of course, that if I manage to do significant bodily harm to you forty hours before the match is scheduled to begin, I will undoubtedly be killed in a slow and painful manner by the other occupants of this castle."

"An Agility Duel—using Disarming Spells only. First one to disarm the other five times wins. We start thirty-five feet apart—staying at least that close to each other at all times--and each time one of us is hit, we begin again four feet closer than the last time." Harry spoke quickly, making it clear to Hermione that he had thought about this beforehand. She remained silent, and Harry waited a moment before asking, "Does that sound all right to you?"

Hermione nodded, then led Harry outside and closed the door of the Room of Requirement before pacing back and forth, then opening the door again. The piles of books had disappeared—though Harry could see a wooden door on a far wall that seemed to cover a large bookcase—and the floors and walls were now lightly padded. The temperature had also dropped by what seemed to be about ten degrees. Harry nodded in approval, then shed his robes—revealing the T-shirt and the running shorts he was wearing underneath. Hermione also removed her robe and revealed the similar clothing that she was wearing. Both combatants took good long looks at each other, then turned away—concealing the mild and brief blushes that crossed their features. They moved away from each other until they were thirty-five feet apart, and stood at attention. Harry waited a moment, then called out: "One, two—THREE!"

The two opponents each immediately cast the Disarming Spell, then sprang aside to avoid the incoming spell of their rival. The spells hit nothing, and Harry and Hermione began circling around the Room of Requirement, looking for an opening to disarm each other. Both were fully rested and at their best, and it was only after twenty minutes of hard fighting that Harry managed to catch Hermione with a direct hit, sending her wand skittering over to him. Hermione scowled at him as she retrieved her wand, and Harry winked at her as they moved back to the beginning position—this time only thirty-one feet apart.

The second exchange took eighteen minutes to complete, and it was Hermione who managed to disarm Harry. Both of them were sweating freely—in spite of the cool climate in the room—and panting slightly. Harry looked to see if Hermione might want to take a rest—and saw an almost feral competitive fire in her eyes. Harry winced inwardly. This is going to be brutal before the end.

Harry was right. The rounds continued to get shorter, as the closer distance made dodging more difficult, but their increasing exhaustion caused their shots to come less frequently and a bit more slowly—which made the rounds longer than they otherwise would have been. The eighth round—which was won by Harry to even the score at four rounds apiece—lasted five minutes, and both fighters were swaying on their feet as Hermione reclaimed her wand. Harry wiped his wand hand on his shorts—his T-shirt was soaking wet and useless for the purpose—and re-gripped his wand before looking up and realizing that Hermione was standing three feet away from him. Maybe I should have worked out the math better in advance. He coughed nervously and looked over at Hermione before saying, "Uh, Hermione—maybe we should call this a draw. This round really won't be fun—"

Hermione glared at him, and Harry realized he had triggered something dangerous in his best friend. He considered simply conceding, but at that moment his own competitive fire kicked up a notch, and he muttered, "Fine." He lowered his wand to his side, then began the count again: "One, two—THREE!!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Harry and Hermione shouted the incantation at the same moment, and their wands were pointed directly at each other when the spells were triggered. The results were quite spectacular.

The spells collided and unleashed a red bubble of force that sent both wands flying and staggered both Harry and Hermione. Harry stumbled forward into Hermione and knocked her flat as he fell on top of her. Harry found himself staring directly into Hermione's startled gaze—and found himself drawn into her beautiful brown eyes. Without intending to, he leaned down towards her—only to find that she was moving up to him. Their lips met, and the rest of the world seemed to go away.

Harry put his arms around Hermione and pulled them both to their feet with a fresh burst of energy—not breaking the kiss as he did so. He felt her arms go around him, and intensified the kiss. He felt more alive in that moment than he ever had—and he didn't want it to end.

Hermione gasped and pulled away, and Harry felt a pang of loss as he looked over at Hermione. Her hair had come loose from the restraints she had placed on it for the duel, and it was matted with perspiration and otherwise in complete disarray. Perspiration dripped down her face and soaked her T-shirt: she was shaking, and Harry could see confusion and fear in her eyes. He had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in his life.

Hermione saw the complex emotions playing across Harry's face and panicked: "Harry—we were under a great deal of stress. I never should have made you fight that last round. I should have just quit and called it a night so you could rest for tomorrow. I promise—nothing like that will ever happen again."

Harry stared at her and began to laugh. Hermione stared at her best friend, and felt a burst of anger as she snapped, "What's so funny?"

"Never happen again? I wish it had happened years ago!" Hermione's jaw dropped as Harry replied bluntly with a grin on his face, then added, "Hermione—you've always been great about telling me when I'm making a fool out of myself: why didn't you do it this time?"

Hermione was silent, and Harry walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders as he continued, "I've had the most wonderful girl in the world next to me for five years—why couldn't you have just smacked me on the head and told me so? I could have spared Cho the bad breakup and let Ginny find someone who loves her as much as she deserves without giving her false hopes about me!" Hermione went rigid, and Harry stepped away, looking concerned: "Hermione, what's wrong? Say something to me."

Hermione blinked, then looked up into Harry's eyes. Harry saw Hermione's gaze go cold, and she said quietly, "Harry—I don't know what you think you're feeling, but it's not what you think it is. You don't feel that way about me."

"You want to know what I'm feeling? I'll tell you—I'm in love with you. I can't imagine anymore what my life would be without you in it, Hermione, and I never want to have to find out. I've been a fool for not realizing it sooner." Harry was unsettled by the lack of warmth Hermione was showing at that moment, but he wasn't about to back down. "I'm sorry if you don't believe that I could feel that way about you, but I know what I'm feeling—I'm the one feeling it."

Hermione shook her head at him and replied, "Harry—you can't rescue me. You've been a good friend to me by taking me to see and do things while I was getting over the shock of Ron getting together with Luna, but this is too much. You're not in love with me—you certainly made that clear enough to Rita Skeeter and the readers of the Daily Prophet the other day--and I'm not going to let you do this just to make me happy."

Harry shook his head and was about to angrily respond to Hermione bringing up the issue of his need to rescue people again when he realized how she had just responded to him and put a couple of recent memories together. He locked eyes with her and said simply, "Fine. Just look in my eyes and tell me you don't love me, Hermione. If you can say that convincingly, I'll go on my way and we'll never talk about this again." Hermione paled, and Harry continued staring into her eyes, adding, "Any time you're ready, Hermione."

"I—I—that's not the issue, Harry!" Hermione turned away from Harry and walked a few steps away, looking frustrated and angry.

"Isn't it? I heard what you said just now—you could have said that you didn't want me, or that you just weren't ready for a relationship: you didn't say either of those things." Harry spoke firmly, looking at Hermione's back and trying to lend the power to his voice that his eyes had just had on her a moment before. "You accused me of wanting to rescue you, and of doing this just to make you happy. Rescue you from what—if being with me wouldn't make you happy, it wouldn't be much of a bloody rescue, would it? Tell me that you know I wouldn't make you happy and I'll stop, Hermione."

Hermione turned back to Harry, and he could see the fury in her eyes as she snapped, "You think you're bloody clever, do you? Less than a year ago, you were begging me for advice on how to deal with Cho—and now you think you're an expert on how a girl's heart works?"

Harry blinked at the onslaught, but he managed to swallow hard and step forward as he whispered, "No, I'm not an expert on girls' hearts—but someone much smarter than me has been trying to teach me to listen to what people say and try to find the hidden meanings there, and you still haven't denied anything I've said, Hermione—except to tell me what I'm feeling, and I'm telling you that you're wrong."

Hermione closed her eyes and shivered, and Harry dared to hope that he had managed to reach her. After a moment, Hermione turned back to Harry and spoke softly as she looked up into his eyes: "Harry—it doesn't matter what I feel. You know I love you, and that I'd do almost anything to make your life better, given all of the misery you've had to suffer over the years. Yes, I've had feelings for you for a while—and with what I was feeling for Ron, it was a bit unsettling. When we were tangled up there just now, I just couldn't resist finding out what it would be like if it was me you were kissing, not Cho or Ginny or whoever you end up with. But that moment is over, Harry. I've never seen any indication before that you felt about me the way. . .the way I do about you. I have to think that it's just a sudden reaction to seeing me unhappy, Harry—but I can get over being unhappy that someone I'm in love with isn't in love with me, just as Ginny managed it. I won't get over knowing you threw away your chance for real happiness to make me happy, Harry—I just won't. I think we should spend time apart until you realize that I'm right, Harry."

Harry stared at Hermione in sheer disbelief, and stood frozen as Hermione walked quickly to the door, still speaking: "It's my turn to rescue you, Harry—from me. When you're past this, we'll continue as before." She opened the door and exited, leaving the door standing open behind her.

Harry felt a moment of sheer frustration, and searched for something to take it out on. The nearly empty training room denied him a target, and he pulled out his wand out and quickly cast a conjuration spell, producing a large granite boulder fifty feet away from him. He leveled his wand at it and snarled in Parseltongue, "Destroy That Completely!"

The beam that jumped out of Harry's wand was pure crimson and sun-bright, and Harry was blinded momentarily. When his vision cleared, he saw that the two-ton boulder had been reduced to dust. He shook his head in disbelief, and he was startled when a familiar female voice observed, "Funny—I don't remember Professor Flitwick teaching us that one. The incantation was a bit lacking in Greek or Latin."

Harry turned to the doorway in shock and saw Ginny walking into the room—with Neville firmly holding her left hand and looking to make sure the powerful spell had not damaged the roof. He raised an eyebrow, but chose to ignore the obvious new development for the moment as he replied, "Actually—it's just a Reductor Curse: I was just in a really bad mood." His eyes widened as he realized the implications of her comment: "You understand Parseltongue?"

"Yes—ever since the Chamber: a parting gift from Tom, I suppose." Ginny's voice was matter-of-fact, but Neville slipped his arm around her waist as she alluded to her possession by Voldemort. She smiled up at him and added, "The way the others treated you when your gift became known didn't exactly make me want to advertise my own new ability."

Harry nodded, and decided that changing the subject would be a good idea. "So—you two are seeing each other now? When did that happen?"

"About two hours ago—I wanted to snap him up before Pansy or Millicent decided the crop of young Death-Eaters wasn't to their liking and decided to go hunting. He's far too good to be wasted on either of those two nasty cows." Ginny spoke matter-of-factly, and Neville blushed deeply as Harry gave him a sympathetic, yet pleased smile. Ginny noted the reaction and raised an eyebrow as she added, "But it seems that my love life isn't the big story here tonight."

Harry scowled. "How much did you hear?"

"We came by about twenty minutes ago—you two were dueling pretty loudly. We were about to come in and watch when we heard you fall, and we had the door half-opened when you two started snogging. I closed the door and got out the Extendable Ears." Ginny spoke quietly, and Harry raised an eyebrow at the last part. Ginny snorted and elaborated, "Not to listen to that—I knew that an argument would be starting as soon as the kissing stopped, and I wanted to hear it. Fights between Ron and Hermione are louder, but when you fight with her it's usually more. . .interesting."

"She's gone nutters on me, Ginny. I just need to find her and talk to her some more—make her believe me when I—" Harry saw Ginny shaking her head slowly, and Harry scowled and asked, "Why not?"

"Because she's smarter than you and just as stubborn, Harry. You're not going to be able to talk her out of it, and she'll just keep pushing you away and making you both miserable." Ginny's tone was grim, and Harry listened quietly as Ginny added, "You've had just about everyone eating out of your hand the last couple of weeks, but Hermione's a tougher nut to crack."

"So I should just give up?" Harry was feeling rather dejected, and it was obvious in his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry—she just admitted that she loves you. You just need to convince her that you feel the same way about her. Words alone aren't going to do it, Harry." Ginny saw Harry blink in confusion, and she elaborated, "It's going to take some kind of dramatic gesture—something that shocks her and convinces her how you feel about her before she has a chance to argue herself out of it. Let it go for now—neither of you is going anywhere. Wait for your moment and take it when it comes."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, and Neville stirred at Ginny's side. She turned to Neville and said quietly, "Don't get any funny ideas from that, Neville. You've already got me—and I'm not as stubborn as Hermione in any event. The only dramatic gesture I'd like from you is a kiss in the moonlight—and I believe the astronomy tower is vacant at the moment." Neville smiled, and Ginny turned and hugged Harry as she whispered, "Don't let it get you down. Remember that she loves you, and hold onto that while you play your heart out the day after tomorrow."

Harry smiled and whispered back, "Thanks, Ginny." Ginny released him and left with Neville. Harry sighed and left the Room of Requirement to shower and read the book on Parseltongue magic before he got some much needed sleep.

---

The stadium was magnificent.

The stands towered far above the field, with most of the empty space in the normal configuration being taken up by seating. Special charms on the stands and the Bludgers would protect the spectators from being hit during the course of the game. Even the one Galleon seats in the upper reaches of the stands were well-padded and comfortable, and the more expensive seats had a pre-set charm ready to produce one of several hot meals at the utterance of a command word. The display board was even larger than the one at the World Cup had been, and it was flickering with light as Harry soared over to confer with Robinson about a point of strategy. Nearby, the Vrasta Vultures were also flying about, getting a sense of the pitch. Robinson answered Harry's question and excused himself to talk to Colton and Morton, and Harry was turning to look over at the Vultures again when he saw a blur of motion coming at him. He was about to react when the blur slowed and stopped, revealing Viktor. Harry nodded and called out, "So—does the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium pass muster, Viktor?"

"Most definitely—it is a shame that it vill not be a permanent fixture here." Viktor looked at Harry, then over at the flickering display board. "I vill be interested to see this new Omniocular idea being tested—it could revolutionize how Quidditch is conducted and covered by the newspapers."

"Yes—I'm sure it will." Harry looked up at the board, then over at a small alcove just below the Hogwarts box—where Dean was explaining something to Professor Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick. He pointed to attract Viktor's attention and explained, "Dean will control the whole thing from that area. There will be ten different sets of Omnioculars dedicated to the display board, and the charms on them will let Dean see what they are seeing at all times on the wall of the alcove. He can pick any one of them by using his wand, and either show what that pair of Omnioculars is viewing at that moment, or replay something it has viewed previously, at any speed he chooses. There's even one pair of Omnioculars dedicated to the Snitch—after it makes an appearance, the crowd will be able to see where it came from and what happened to it, in a way that doesn't interfere with the game."

"Remarkable." Viktor commented, shaking his head. "Let us hope that our performances tomorrow are vorthy of such an innovation."

Harry nodded in agreement, and decided it was a good time to bring up something he had been thinking about: "Viktor? The crowd is going to be expecting a particularly dramatic game tomorrow—I had an idea for helping with that, if you're willing and circumstances allow it."

Viktor raised an eyebrow. "Harry, you're not suggesting--?"

"No—and if you suggested it, I'd hex you into next week." Harry interrupted with a wicked grin, and Viktor relaxed and grinned back at him as Harry continued, "I was just picturing something we could do if it wasn't immediately obvious to the crowd which one of us actually got the Snitch, for whatever reason. Here's what I was thinking—" Harry explained for a couple of minutes, and by the end Viktor was nodding with a thoughtful expression on his face. Encouraged by the reaction, Harry asked, "What do you think?"

"It is a vorthy idea, Harry—if the situation arises, I vould be glad to carry the plan out vith you." Harry brightened at Viktor's quick agreement, though the Bulgarian Seeker added, "But such scenarios are rare, Harry—ve vill be unlikely to be able to use this plan."

"No harm in planning for best circumstances—if we do manage it, the crowd will love it." Harry replied quietly, then turned as the display board flickered, then revealed a huge image of Harry and Viktor. Harry smiled and said to Viktor:

"Smile—you're on Omniovision!"

---

In a sealed room inside a large and ancient mansion shielded from the world by the powerful Fidelius Charm, a lone figure sat inside a mystic circle, tracing arcane symbols in his own blood as dozens of candles flickered fitfully. Red eyes glowed inside the figure's hood as a final symbol was completed, and he sighed as he pulled back the hood—revealing the reptilian features of Lord Voldemort. Voldemort smiled as much as his features would allow, and turned to the north wall of the room as he whispered:

"Your doom is coming, Potter—and it will come at the worst possible moment for your friends."

. . . to be continued

As always, comments are welcomed and desired.