Chapter Six

The morning of August 8th dawned, and it was immediately clear that it would be a magnificent day to play Quidditch. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly, and it was obvious by mid-morning that the temperature would be pleasant without being overly warm. Harry rose at the usual time to complete his early morning workout, but he did not take his usual breakfast in his room—his teammates would be in the Grand Hall to eat breakfast, and he wanted to visit with them.

When he arrived in the Grand Hall at half-past-eight, everyone in the castle was already up and there. The Vrasta Vultures were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, and speaking among themselves in a language that sounded like the occasional conversations in Russian that Harry had heard in passing while walking through Diagon Alley. Puddlemere United was, unsurprisingly, at the Gryffindor table, and Harry heard them yell greetings at him as he walked in. He looked across the Great Hall and saw that Hermione was standing near the Gryffindor table, speaking with Luna. He sighed, then walked over to the Gryffindor table, picking one of the empty spaces next to Ron, and leaving an empty place between himself and Oliver. After a moment, Hermione finished talking to Luna and walked back to the Gryffindor table. Without as much as a glance at Harry, she chose a seat at the far end of the table and began serving herself from the heaping plates in the middle of the table. Luna gave Harry a sympathetic look before sitting on the other side of Ron, while Oliver raised an eyebrow at Harry as if to say "What's with Hermione?" Harry shrugged and began talking to Ron—not noticing the dark pair of eyes watching the scene from the Ravenclaw table.

Hermione ate quickly and left the Great Hall, pleased that Harry had not chosen to make a scene. He's always been more sensible than Ron was. I just need to convince him I'm right, and everything will go back—

"Hermione."

Hermione froze in surprise, then turned to see Viktor. The Bulgarian Seeker looked somber, and Hermione immediately asked, "What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"I vas hoping you could tell me that, Hermione." Viktor replied, watching her closely as he added. "You vent out of your vay to find a seat as far as possible from your two best friends. Since you vere talking quite politely to Ron's new girlfriend, I am assuming that you vere not avoiding Ron, but Harry. Are you angry with him?"

I am plagued with men who think they're Sherlock bloody Holmes! Hermione chose not to utter the uncharitable sentiment and took a deep breath before replying: "Viktor—you might have considered the idea that I could be angry with Ron for a reason aside from his romantic choices; after all, we've found dozens of reasons to quarrel over the past five years without public snogging ever having been on the agenda." Viktor raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, and she sighed in mild annoyance and added, "But yes—Harry and I have had a disagreement, and we're not speaking right now."

"I see." Viktor's reply was deadpan and his expression was neutral.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she glared at Viktor as she snapped: "Viktor, I care a great deal for you and have no desire to be angry with you--but don't meddle in my life."

Viktor nodded thoughtfully, impressed with the formidable temper lurking under Hermione's normally placid exterior, and replied, "I have no desire to meddle in your personal life, Hermione. If you have a genuine disagreement vith Harry, I vill leave the two of you to vork it out." Hermione relaxed at the reassurance from her friend, and was startled when Viktor locked eyes with her and added, "But I vill remind you of this, Hermione: Harry vill be on the Hogvarts Quidditch pitch today vith some of the best professional players in the vorld. I am fairly certain that none of them mean him harm, but Quidditch is a violent and dangerous game, Hermione—particularly ven contested among top-flight professionals. Do you really vish Harry to be playing vith the idea that you are so angry vith him that you vill not spend time vith him before he puts his life on the line today?"

Hermione felt a twitch in her shoulder, and knew that she had just come within an eyelash of slapping Viktor. She glared at him furiously as she snarled, "How DARE you try to manipulate me like that! If you really believe that, then how in the hell can you justify having Harry risk his life for nothing but a bloody game?"

Viktor looked at Hermione quietly, then inclined his head to the exit to the courtyard. Hermione followed him out to a quiet area with a bench in the middle of a circle of hedges. Viktor gestured to the bench and they both sat down. After a moment, Viktor looked at Hermione and said quietly, "Hermione—you have to know that this isn't just another Quidditch match: it hasn't been that since Harry agreed to play Seeker for Puddlemere United. For better or vorse, it has become the first battle in the renewed fight against Voldemort, and Harry Potter—the living embodiment of that fight—is in the middle of it. Vat he does during this match vill be of enormous significance, Hermione—however it ends and vatever he does."

Hermione shivered involuntarily, and she felt an irresistible impulse to lighten the mood. She smirked at Viktor and commented, "A bit melodramatic, don't you think? It sounds like you're casting yourself as the villain in this story, Viktor."

"I am the villain, Hermione—at least for today." Hermione blinked in shock at Viktor's reply, and was searching for a reassuring response when Viktor added, "Oh, no one vants to see me get hurt, and some of the fans might have even come just to see me play at Hogvarts. They might not hate me—but they vill vant me to lose, even though they know that I almost certainly vill not. Harry Potter has become the hero of the Vizarding Vorld once again, and anyone directly opposed to him is doomed to the role of villain."

Hermione stared at him, shook her head, and asked, "Viktor—if that's true, why don't you just let Harry get the Snitch? This match isn't for money or to win the Quidditch League championship: it's just an exhibition game to raise money for good causes. If you're so sure that the crowd wants Harry to win, why not just make them happy?"

"Vell, for one thing, he told me that he'd hex me if I even suggested it ven I misunderstood something he said—and I'm rather certain that vould be a painful experience." Hermione smiled slightly at Viktor's darkly humorous comment as Viktor continued, "But there is a rather more basic reason vy I cannot do as you suggest. Vile Harry is the most scrutinized individual in our vorld in these times, there is an area in vich my life has been even more closely documented than Harry's—my performances on the Quidditch pitch. My every move there for three years has been analyzed, recorded, and documented by hundreds of Quidditch reporters and statisticians, and by hundreds of thousands of Quidditch fans. I met a twelve-year old vizard last year who recited to me every move I made for the entire first season I played—vithperfect accuracy, as I discovered ven I checked later. Because of the new Omniovision system and mass production of the Omniocular replays, this vill be the most videly vatched Quidditch match in history. If I vere to do less than my best—even for an instant—it vould be obvious to observers—including Harry—that I had done so, and his victory vould have no meaning. Harry is a brilliant young Seeker, but he is not yet experienced enough to have a reasonable expectation of vinning against me or any of the ten best Seekers in professional Quidditch, and the crowd and all who follow Quidditch know it. Vat Harry can do is play his very best, and make me vork for victory: by facing a seemingly invincible foe vithout hesitation or fear, he vill inspire the crowd—vich vill be made up of vizards and vitches who almost certainly see Lord Voldemort as a similarly invincible foe—and hopefully the entire Vizarding Vorld."

Hermione shivered again. This is so unfair! Harry's sixteen years old—he shouldn't have to worry about the entire world depending on him! She considered what she had just thought and sighed sadly. But Viktor's right—however unfair it is, he's stuck with it. She looked back at Viktor and asked quietly: "Viktor—what if he wins?"

Hermione was startled to see Viktor smile genuinely at her question. His expression looked almost wistful as he replied, "That vould be the stuff that legends are made of, Hermione—and ve could use a legend right now." Hermione shivered again, and Viktor's expression darkened as he whispered, "But it must be a legend earned fairly—not a sham." He looked into Hermione's eyes and added, "Harry vill need all of the confidence and support that he can get ven he goes out on the pitch today, Hermione—don't deny that to him."

Hermione shook her head in frustration and anger—then nodded once to Viktor. Viktor smiled, and Hermione looked at him and asked, "And what support do you need, my friend?"

"There is always the thrill of the battle, Hermione—and my lovely Irina vill be in the Hogwarts box thanks to the generosity of Professor Dumbledore. Knowing that she is there cheering for me vill be all the support I need." Hermione smiled at the response, and listened as Viktor added, "I vould appreciate it if you vould sit vith her today, Hermione. She could use the company of a familiar face—if only by reputation—and I believe that hearing you cheer for Harry vill probably remedy vatever jealousy she still harbors regarding you."

Hermione nodded and stood up. "I'd be honored to, Viktor. Please tell her that I'm looking forward to meeting her and hearing about her teaching position at Durmstrang." She smiled at Viktor and left.

After Hermione had left, Viktor stood, stretched, and turned to an apparently empty space between hedges before calling out, "You may come out now, my dear—Hermione is gone."

A gasp came out of what appeared to be empty space before Irina faded into view, her wand still positioned to break the Disillusionment Charm she had been under. She glared at him and snapped, "How did you see me, Viktor?"

Viktor grinned wickedly. "My dear—I did not become the best Seeker in the vorld vith my charm, personality, and diabolically handsome countenance." Irina snickered, and Viktor added, "Noticing vat is around me is part of the job; besides, your perfume is very distinctive. As it should be, considering vat I paid to get it for you."

Irina glowered at Viktor, then stepped forward and leaned in to kiss him. After a moment, she pulled back and asked with a seductive smile: "So, my handsome villain—I am to be your sole defender in a hostile land: what is to be my reward for such loyalty?"

Viktor looked at his love quietly, and considered what their future together might bring before replying: "If ve are very, very, fortunate, Irina—it vill be to console me after my shocking defeat at the hands of a hero."

Irina looked at him sadly, then kissed him again.

At precisely ten in the morning, the crowd began to arrive.

Massive Portkey arrival points had been placed just outside the boundaries of the Hogwarts wards, and a permanent Displacement Charm had been placed on a large field near Hogsmeade, to allow large numbers of wizards and witches to Apparate in without risking splinching each other. The floos in the businesses in Hogsmeade had been made freely available for use by ticketholders, and three special runs of the Hogwarts Express were scheduled for the morning, as well as three more for the evening to return the presumably tired patrons back to their homes.

When they arrived—whichever way they arrived—all ticketholders were asked to sign a piece of parchment before crossing the Hogwarts wards. Those who failed to do so for whatever reason found that the wards blocked their entry (a short-term precaution that had required some rather difficult spellwork by Professor Flitwick and by Professor Dumbledore himself). Those who did sign were effectively making a Wizard's Oath that they intended to do no harm to anyone playing in or attending the game, or anyone else in or near Hogwarts or Hogsmeade, with the effect that if anyone who signed did try to do such a thing, they would immediately suffer six or seven very unpleasant curses before they could even utter a single magic word, and a red flare would immediately go up signaling the location of the offender. For the record, this happened precisely seven times in the course of the afternoon, with only one of the individuals turning out to be a Death Eater—and one still wet behind the ears at that--after questioning under Veritaserum, with the others being only hooligans who hadn't bothered to read the fine print before trying to start a brawl in the stands. Dumbledore had carefully exempted all DA members and all Hogwarts faculty from the requirement in setting up the system (the Aurors and the players, of course, were exempt as a matter of course)—they might be needed in case of an emergency. Another charm—one which was announced in the newspapers beforehand-- caused any Animagus who crossed the Hogwarts wards to glow bright blue unless they uttered a password provided by Dumbledore. Peter Pettigrew did not make an appearance that day, and Rita Skeeter was forced to owl Dumbledore and make a very polite request to him to discreetly provide her with the password. Dumbledore did so, his eyes twinkling as the reporter quietly asked him for the password and watched her cross the wards. When asked about the nature of the precautions, Dumbledore replied with a smile: "They were inspired by a remarkable young woman who takes a very dim view of sneaks and hooligans."

The crowd filed in, sat down, and passed the time amiably, chatting, eating and drinking either the magically provided meals from their seats or refreshments provided by the many vendors scattered throughout the stands. It was a pleasant afternoon, and the buzz of anticipation was clearly in the air. The Hogwarts private box—which contained about five hundred seats and which was situated directly below the announcer's booth—was full, with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville having seats of honor in the front row next the Hogwarts faculty. Professor Snape was absent.

At precisely one-thirty, Harry Potter and Viktor Krum walked into the Hogwarts box and onto a platform at one side of the front of it. The Omniovision board—which had been showing scenes from prior big matches involving either Harry or Viktor—flickered once and showed a view of the platform. The crowd quieted down, and Harry cast "Sonorus Omnibus" on himself before calling out: "Welcome to the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium! I think you'll all agree that this is a fine place to hold this afternoon's match between Puddlemere United and the Vrasta Vultures!" The crowd cheered loudly, and Harry waited for it to die down before he added, "It's a shame that it will not be here in a few days—I would encourage you all to give a loud cheer for the remarkable team of witches and wizards—headed by Hogwarts' own Professor Minerva McGonagall—that has given us this remarkable place to see what should be a memorable match between two of the finest teams in the world!" The view switched to a tight shot of Professor McGonagall, who looked a bit uneasy before she smiled and waved to the crowd.

Harry waited again, then continued: "You are all here to see a great Quidditch match—but we are here for another purpose that is far more important. As you know, a menace once thought to have been banished from this world has come to trouble us again—a menace that we all have good reason to want to banish again. The proceeds from ticket sales, refreshments, and other concessions sold at this game, are to be used to establish two trust funds dedicated to dealing with the problems caused by—" Harry paused and waited for the crowd to finish cringing--his willingness to utter the forbidden name of Voldemort had become notorious in the Wizarding World—before continuing: "—the depredations of the Death Eaters, their despicable master, and other Dark Wizards. The first of these funds will be dedicated to helping St. Mungo's and other Wizarding hospitals deal with the costs resulting from healing and otherwise treating the injuries of survivors of attacks by Dark Wizards." Harry turned to the audience within the Hogwarts box and called out, "Mr. Diggory—would you join us on the platform, please?"

Amos Diggory blinked in surprise and stood hesitantly, as his wife smiled supportively next to him. He had been surprised at the invitation from Harry for he and his wife to sit in the Hogwarts box, and he had certainly not expected to be asked to appear with him. He walked slowly to the platform, looking as if he had aged a decade in the past year. Harry nodded to Mr. Diggory and continued: "As terrible as attacks by Dark Wizards tend to be, many wizards and witches survive being victimized by these monsters. Unfortunately, they often do so only after having been wounded gravely in body and/or in mind, forcing them to undergo expensive and lengthy treatment to recover their health, or even to face a lifetime of permanent disability. St. Mungo's and other Wizarding hospitals have been enormously generous in absorbing a measure of the cost for those who are unable to pay for it, but they can only bear so much, and they need help. For this reason, the organizers of this game are endowing a trust to help pay those costs and make it possible to more easily heal the physical and mental wounds suffered in this fight. It is to be named for one of the finest people it has been my privilege to know." The crowd was silent, realizing what was coming and why Amos Diggory was on the platform. Harry continued: "Professor Dumbledore spoke at length at the closing feast at Hogwarts last June about what a fine person Cedric Diggory was, and I would not even attempt to try to improve on it. I will add only that for my part that I feel privileged to have competed against him in the Tri-Wizard Tournament—he was honest, and loyal, and a gifted wizard. He would have graduated this June, and I have no doubt that he would have been at the side of those of us who chose to fight the evil that found its way into Hogwarts within this last year in the person of Delores Umbridge." The Omniovision view shifted at that moment to Cornelius Fudge—who was also sitting in the Hogwarts box—and boos and hisses were heard in the crowd. Fudge looked up from the conversation he was having, and it took great force of will for him not to scowl at the public humiliation. Harry turned back to the Minister while he was out of sight and smiled coldly at him before turning back and continuing, "For these reasons and many more—the organizers of this event have unanimously voted—and asked me to announce—that the trust will be known as the Cedric Diggory Memorial Fund for the Treatment of the Injuries of Victims of Dark Wizards."

The crowd applauded thunderously, and Harry and Viktor joined them before Harry continued, "Of course, a board will be appointed to administer the trust, ensuring that it is used for the purposes for which it was intended in a thoughtful and zealous manner. The leader of that board must be someone who has good reason to understand the seriousness of the crisis that the trust was created to deal with. For this reason, the organizers have selected Cedric's father, Amos Diggory, to serve as the Head Trustee of the Cedric Diggory Memorial Fund."

Mr. Diggory blinked in shock and seemed to sag for a moment as the crowd applauded again, then straightened as Harry turned to look at him. Tears were running down his cheeks, but the Omniovision showed the determination in his eyes and the sense of purpose in his posture. His wife was quickly at his side, and she squeezed his arm firmly as Harry reached out and shook his hand.

Harry waited again, then continued, "A full list of the trustees has been released to the newspapers, and will appear in tomorrow's editions. However, I will announce the name of one more of the trustees tonight—a name that will be familiar to all of you. Viktor Krum has graciously consented to serve as a trustee—as a tribute to his fellow Tri-Wizard Champion, and in recognition of the important cause that the trust will be serving." Viktor shook Harry's hand, then turned hesitantly to the Diggorys, offering his hand. Amos Diggory took the offered hand without a pause, shaking it firmly, and Mrs. Diggory stepped forward and hugged him as the crowd applauded warmly.

After the applause died down again, Harry smiled at Viktor and the Diggorys and continued, "The second trust being created with the proceeds deals with a grim problem: those killed by the despicable crimes of Dark Wizards usually leave survivors behind: parents, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters. . .and children. I was one of those children left behind during the events of the last war, and you know my story. While there were those who tried to look out for me in the dark years after my parents were murdered, I wish that I could have received more direct help for the problems that my loss caused for me—and there were thousands of other wizards and witches who, to one degree or another, shared my need. This trust will be dedicated to helping survivors with financial problems to ensure that they have adequate housing, food, and educational assistance, as well as providing counseling services for those whom the trauma of losing treasured loved ones has proven crushing to their spirits. The trust will be named for a wizard who lost family to Death Eaters during the first war, and in a real sense was orphaned by the prejudices that the Death Eaters and their vile master represent."

The crowd went silent, and Harry took a deep breath before continuing, "Sirius Black was rejected by his family while still at Hogwarts for failing to embrace the prejudices against muggleborn wizards and witches that are all too common among pureblood families. My father's parents were only too happy to take him in, and he had to watch helplessly as his younger brother Regulus chose to become a Death Eater, only to die when trying to escape the horrific situation he found himself in. Rather than letting that loss drive him away from the fight, he continued to fight in the war as best as he could until a tragic event took place that all here should now be aware of. A miserable coward who had been one of his best friends betrayed my parents to their deaths and framed Sirius for the crime. He spent twelve years in Azkaban without having received a trial, and only his courage and force of will allowed him to keep his sanity and manage to escape to seek justice. While he was denied that justice by unfortunate events, he stayed free and continued to fight against the return of the enemy who had so wronged him—until he was murdered by one of the most loathsome criminals at large in our world." Harry paused, and the crowd watched him visibly struggle with the grief he was feeling until he took a deep breath and continued, "I have no doubt that Sirius Black—best friend to my parents and my godfather—would be at the forefront of the fight against the darkness were he still with us, and would be an excellent choice to be the Head Trustee of this trust if he were available to serve. As, sadly, he is not, I am announcing that the Head Trustee for the Sirius Black Memorial Fund for the Assistance of Survivors of the Victims of Dark Wizards will be Sirius' best friend and the man who taught me how to cast the Patronus Charm during his time teaching Defense Against Dark Arts at Hogwarts two years ago, Remus Lupin—who is every bit as motivated and capable of handling the duties of this position as Sirius would have been."

The crowd applauded again, and Lupin stood up, walked over to the platform, and shook the hands of Harry and the other people standing next to him before stepping back and waiting for the applause to die down. Harry again looked back at Fudge—who looked less than pleased at the news. Dumbledore had carefully investigated to make sure that the anti-werewolf laws would not interfere with Lupin being appointed to the Head Trustee position, and Harry had been relieved when their attorneys had determined that it would not be an issue. The position included a comfortable though not extravagant salary, and Harry was glad that his father's friend would finally have financial security from a job that anti-werewolf prejudice would not drive him from.

The crowd was silent again, and Harry thanked Lupin and the Diggorys and asked them to be seated. When they were sitting again, Harry turned back to the crowd and called out, "There's one more matter I need to address before Viktor and I head off to get ready to help give you all a memorable Quidditch match today. One of the most important duties faced by the organizers of this match was to choose an announcer worthy to call it. Many well-qualified announcers were considered before the organizers made the choice based on a simple idea: if you're going to choose an announcer for a Quidditch match at Hogwarts—why muck about with substitutes when the real thing is available? Ladies and gentlemen, I will now step aside and hand the proceedings over to the best Quidditch announcer to walk the halls of Hogwarts in many a year—and who will be calling what will probably be his final Quidditch match at Hogwarts today: graduating Hogwarts student Lee Jordan!"

The occupants of the Hogwarts box cheered loudly, and the rest of the crowd applauded politely as the Omniovision showed Harry and Viktor exiting the Hogwarts box before switching to the view of a handsome young man with dreadlocks. Lee Jordan had a huge smile on his face, and he didn't waste any time taking over as he leaned into the magical microphone and called out: "Thank you, Harry—and to our guests: welcome to Hogwarts! We're here today at the magnificent Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium to witness the one and only Quidditch match to be held within its boundaries before it goes back to being the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch in time for the next school year: Puddlemere United vs. the Vrasta Vultures playing a charity match for the fine causes that my good friend Mr. Harry Potter has just finished describing to you. It's a beautiful day here at Hogwarts, sunny and clear and not too hot—just right for us to have a fine day of Quidditch. As you know, this match will last until the Snitch is caught or until eight in the evening—whichever comes first. I seriously doubt the match will go the distance, as it will feature a confrontation between two Seekers who need no introduction: Viktor Krum—the finest Seeker to come onto the scene in many a year, and Harry Potter—the terror of the Hogwarts Quidditch scene since he arrived here five years ago, and just off the suspension wrongly imposed on him by the hag that the Ministry of Magic inflicted on this fine institution last year."

The Hogwarts box erupted in cheers again, and Dean mischievously put Fudge's image back on the Omniovision, provoking loud and merciless booing from the crowd—and this time Fudge didn't bother to hide his angry scowl. Lee snickered, then continued, "We should see quite a confrontation between these two great Seekers, and the rest of the starting squads of both teams are first-rate as well. I'm going to take a few moments to prepare before introducing the two teams, so relax, order some of the fine food and drink being sold by the vendors in the stands, and get ready for one great Quidditch match!"

The crowd cheered, then settled down to do exactly as Lee suggested. Lee smiled, then looked at his notes regarding the players, including statistical notes. Harry's taking a tiger by the tail going up against Krum—but I've never seen him fail when something nasty hadn't gone to work on him. Should be quite—

"Mr. Jordan."

Lee flinched at the familiar voice, then turned to see his Head-of-House watching him with a neutral expression. He smiled easily at her and called out, "Hello, Professor—come to make sure I don't get out of line?"

McGonagall shook her head and moved closer, watching Lee carefully as she replied, "I don't have any authority over you any more, Mr. Jordan—and even if I did, I'd only use it to remind you that there are no treacherous Slytherins here today—just a large number of very competent professional Quidditch players who are all playing for an important cause."

"I know that, ma'am," Lee responded, surprised at McGonagall's quiet demeanor. "I'll be quite fair—I doubt that any of these players will try anything dirty. Bound to be rough, though—I hope Harry makes it through in one piece."

"As do we all, Mr. Jordan." McGonagall replied emphatically. Lee nodded, and was surprised when McGonagall's expression softened and she added, "I just came up to wish you luck today."

"Thank you, Professor." Lee was touched by the gesture from the formidable woman who had sat at his shoulder for five years in the announcer's booth. "I just hope I'm up to this job."

"I have no doubt that you are. While you have occasionally gotten carried away in your zeal to defend our House, I have never had cause to doubt your gifts for announcing, or your knowledge and love of the game. The vote to choose you was—for the final vote—unanimous, and my vote was among them." Lee stared at her, and McGonagall smiled openly and concluded, "Do Hogwarts proud today, Lee." She nodded to him and departed down the stairs to the Hogwarts box.

Lee looked after her with a soft smile on his face, then sighed and turned back to wait for the signal that the players were ready to come out on the field.

Harry walked quickly down the hallway to the dressing room—he was running a little late: the opening introductions were due to begin in ten minutes.

"Harry?"

Harry stopped in his tracks and turned. Hermione was standing behind him, and her expression was anxious. Harry frowned and asked, "Has something happened? Is everything all right?"

Hermione shook her head. "I just wanted to wish you luck, Harry—and to say I'm very proud of you for how you've handled all of this. You've inspired a lot of people by what you've done and said since. . .the Ministry."

"Thank you, Hermione." Harry was still hurt by what had happened in the Room of Requirement, but he appreciated that Hermione would come down here to tell him this. He looked at her and began: "Hermione, I—"

"Don't, Harry." Hermione shook her head firmly, then stepped forward and hugged him firmly as she whispered, "Please come back to us—I couldn't bear to lose you." She released Harry, then fled.

Harry looked after her, feeling sadness mixed with warmth. He sighed and walked to the dressing room, where Robinson was waiting for him along with the other players. Cho—who had donned her Puddlemere United robes and looked positively thrilled—waved to him as he quietly moved to the back of the group. Robinson nodded to him and looked at his team as he began: "No point in a long speech here—you're the best team I've ever played with, and we know we can beat the Vultures. Play hard, but don't go overboard: we're here for reasons more important than winning a game, and there's no use in getting them or ourselves killed. Let's show them what we're made of!"

The players cheered, then filed out. Robinson called out, "Harry—wait up a bit." Harry stopped, and after the rest of the players were gone, Robinson looked at Harry and said, "I know you've got a lot of weight on your shoulders today, Harry—and I had a word with Amanda before she left. Let me make it clear—you're damned good already: if scouts from every pro team in the world had been there for your practices, you'd have fifty offers waiting for you already for when you're out of school and You-Know-Who is dead. You're good enough to belong out there, but Viktor's a tough nut to crack. Just keep your head about you and do your best. We'll take care of the rest." He extended his hand, and Harry shook it as Robinson borrowed a final comment from his American Muggleborn roots: "Give 'em hell, Harry."

Harry smiled and departed through the exit. Robinson took a moment to consider the event they were about to participate in, then followed Harry out—leaving the dressing room empty.

Lee saw the signal from Madam Hooch—who had been chosen without dissent to referee the match—and returned to the microphone. He took a deep breath and called out: "Ladies and gentlemen—if you'll turn your attention to the pitch, it's time to begin. Again, welcome to this charity match between two of the finest Quidditch teams in the world: Puddlemere United against the Vrasta Vultures!" The crowd murmured in anticipation, and Lee continued: "First—the reserves for the two teams. For Puddlemere United--: Hogwarts' own Oliver Wood! Peterson! Selden! Douglas! Norris! Andrews! And as Reserve Seeker—the newly chosen Head Girl for Hogwarts—Cho Chang!" The seven blue-clad players flew out of the tunnel and did a lap around the pitch, waving as they did so, before landing on the pitch and waiting.

The Hogwarts box cheered loudly again, and the rest of the crowd joined with somewhat less enthusiasm. After a moment, Lee shouted, "And for the Vrasta Vultures—Filitov, Molotov, Anderson, Chirac, Felini, Borzov, and Andropov!" Seven fliers in scarlet robes flew out of the tunnel at the other end of the pitch and did their own lap around the field to general applause.

Lee paused for a long moment, letting the suspense build, then called out: "And now—the starting teams. Going first, the mighty Vrasta Vultures! Introducing—Munchausen! Tolstoi! Romanov! Dimitrov! Volkov! Vulchanov! Annnnd the one—the only—VIKTOR KRUUUUM!!!"

The starting team of the Vultures flew out, and the Omniovision view immediately focused on Viktor, who was waving to the crowd as he lapped the field. As he passed the Hogwarts box, he blew a kiss—and the view immediately changed to show a smiling Irina Gordieva—who was standing next to Hermione in the front row. A small caption appeared at the bottom of the image: The Future Mrs. Viktor Krum—Irina Gordieva.

The crowd roared in approval, and Lee reacted: "Well—that's going to be big news in the papers tomorrow, regardless of how this game turns out: congratulations to Viktor and Irina!" The Vultures landed next to Madam Hooch, and Lee continued: "And now—Puddlemere United! Introducing—Robinson! Adams! Samuelson! Walters! Colton! Morton! And the best Seeker to attend Hogwarts in a long, long time: HARRY POTTER!!!

The crowd cheered louder than ever, and Puddlemere's starting seven flew out without much ado and circled the pitch. Harry looked up at the Hogwarts box as he went by. His friends were all waving—except for Hermione, who was watching with a sad smile on her face. He waved back, then followed his teammates to land by Madam Hooch.

By mutual agreement between the teams, Harry and Viktor were the ones who stepped forward to receive final instructions from the referee: "All right, gentlemen. You and your teammates know what we're here for today. Keep it clean, and try not to get killed." Harry and Viktor nodded and shook hands without being asked to, and were about to leave when Madam Hooch's expression softened and she added, "Nice to see you back where you belong, Potter." Harry smiled at her, then went back to his teammates and mounted his broom.

The players rose into the air and assumed their starting positions. Harry and Viktor rose above the others and took positions face to face, thirty feet apart. Lee watched as Madam Hooch looked around once more and deemed everything to be ready, then began his call of the game: "And the Quaffle is taken by Adams as Puddlemere United's Chasers go into an aggressive attack formation. Volkov sends a Bludger at Adams, who sideslips it nicely. Munchausen drifts up to defend the center goal as Adams passes to Samuelson. To Adams! To Walters! To Samuelson! Samuelson takes the shot—and scores through the left goal! Puddlemere United opens the scoring and leads 10-0!

Harry watched the action as he slowly drifted around the pitch, keeping an eye out at all times to see where Viktor was. Viktor seemed content to stay at a slightly lower altitude than Harry, his own keen eyes scanning constantly for the Snitch. The score stayed close, with both sets of Chasers and the Keepers performing well, and the score was tied at 30 all when Harry saw Viktor dart downward with startling speed, and Lee confirmed it by shouting: "It looks like Krum has spotted the Snitch—yes, I see it!"

Harry did as well, once the players in his line of sight cleared out of the way. There it was, floating along about fifteen feet off the turf and a full four hundred feet away from him: Viktor only had two hundred feet to cover—Harry had no hope of overtaking him. Nonetheless, he dove hard towards the Snitch—if the game was to end this early, he would at least give the crowd an exciting high speed dive to remember.

Lee saw Harry's move and called out: "Potter's diving hard, but Krum is far ahead of him—this may be it, everyone! Krum reaches for the Snitch and here come both Bludgers! Krum easily evades one, but the other is coming right at the Snitch—and the Snitch goes flying out of sight in an instant! Ladies and gentlemen, we have just seen one of the rarest plays in Quidditch—the Sorenson Combination Gambit! By coordinating perfectly and sending one Bludger just in front of Krum, and the other at the Snitch to trigger its Bludger Avoidance Charm, Colton and Morton have saved the game for Puddlemere United and thwarted the best Seeker in the world! Give them a cheer, everyone!"

The crowd roared in appreciation, then again as the play was shown in slow motion on the Omniovision, and Colton and Morton waved once to the crowd before moving back into position to keep an eye out for the Bludgers. Harry—who had still been almost a hundred and fifty feet away when the Snitch went speeding off, had lost sight of it, and he sighed in mixed relief and annoyance as he flew back to his pattern of searching for the Snitch and keeping an eye on Viktor and the rest of the game. He saw that Viktor looked annoyed for a moment, but professionalism quickly asserted itself, and the Bulgarian Seeker went back to his methodical search for the Snitch.

For half an hour more, the game resumed the pattern of the first half-hour: brilliant Chaser play resulting in occasional scores against excellent Keeper play, and the Beaters more or less keeping the Bludgers from inflicting mayhem. That changed quite abruptly with the score tied at 50 one hour into the game, in a moment that reminded him just how brutal professional Quidditch could be. Lee called the play with his usual skill and enthusiasm: "Tolstoi grabs the Quaffle after Adams takes a glancing shot from a Bludger and is forced to drop it. Tolstoi passes to Dimitrov! Dimitrov takes the shot—and Volkov sends a Bludger at Robinson! He must take the hit or allow the goal—" A loud crunch echoed through the stadium as Robinson caught the Quaffle with his hands and stomach and the Bludger smashed into his shoulder and glanced off his head, sending him drifting down onto the pitch where he collapsed into a heap. Lee gasped and called out, "And Robinson saves the goal for Puddlemere United!! But it may be a mixed blessing—there's a medical time out on the pitch, and Madam Hooch casts the Pausing Charm, stopping the Bludgers until we can start again. Robinson may be badly hurt."

The Puddlemere United players—along with the reserves—quickly moved over to Robinson, who was already being treated by Madam Pomfrey and an assistant on loan from St. Mungo's. Robinson was sitting up, but his shoulder was visibly misshapen and his head was bleeding freely from a large gash. Robinson looked to Pomfrey with a pleading expression, but the mediwitch shook her head without hesitation after casting a brief spell: "Broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder, nasty head wound and a mild concussion. You're not doing anything more taxing than bed rest in the Hogwarts infirmary for a few days, Mr. Robinson."

Robinson's face twisted in annoyance, but after a moment he nodded—and winced at the pain the slight movement caused. He looked up at Wood—who was watching with concern—and said softly, "All right then, Oliver—you know what to do. Consider it an audition for a more permanent arrangement." Wood's eyes widened, and Robinson sighed and elaborated, "I'm getting too old for this crap." A stretcher arrived and Robinson was taken away. Harry saw the captain of Puddlemere United give him one last encouraging look before he was carried into the tunnel and out of sight.

Oliver gave his teammates a brief look, then sighed and called out, "All right—let's get back to it." Harry followed the others as they rose into the air, and saw the worried look that Cho gave him as he did.

Surprisingly, the injury did not seem to either increase the ferocity of the players or affect the balance of power in the match by much. The Chasers on both sides remained superb on the attack, and Oliver more than held his own in Keeping as compared to the standards that Robinson had set and which Munchausen was continuing to set. As if the near-collision with a Bludger had frightened it away, the Snitch remained conspicuously absent, and Harry and Viktor continued to circle and look for a target that simply was not to be found. At one point, Viktor caught Harry's eye and shrugged, and Harry shrugged back before they resumed their searches. Harry had moved slightly higher than he had been before, while Viktor stayed at the same altitude, about sixty feet below Harry and some distance away. Harry had to dodge a Bludger about once every fifteen minutes, but he was alert, and the hurtling Bludgers posed little threat to him. The game was five hours old—and Harry was wondering if the Snitch would ever be seen again—when something happened that managed to completely distract him from Quidditch for some time.

It began as a slight twinge in his scar, which caused him to reach for his forehead and grimace. The crowd—focused on the latest Chaser attack by the Vultures, did not notice, and Dean was concentrating on the Quaffle as well. Hermione was the first to notice Harry's movements, and she felt icy fear claw at her heart as she shouted, "Professor Dumbledore! Look at Harry!"

Dumbledore did so, and he paled just as Dean—who had noticed Harry's behavior on one of the small screens--gestured to send the view to the Omniovision screen. One hundred and fifty thousand spectators gasped in dismay as one at the sight of Harry's face twisting in pain as he reached for his scar. A Bludger hurtled at him unnoticed, then glanced off an unseen barrier just before it would have smashed into his chest. Dumbledore frowned and leveled his wand upward, calling out, "Accio Harry!"

A sphere of force flared around Harry as Dumbledore's powerful Summoning Charm hit it and fizzled out. Dumbledore frowned, and the crowd gasped again as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and cast the Pausing Charm, bringing the game to a halt. The players watched, realizing that they could not get to Harry, and wondering with a sense of growing dread what was going on.

Fawkes appeared in a flash of fire on Dumbledore's shoulder. Bird and wizard seemed to commune for a moment, then Fawkes vanished in another burst of flame, only to appear just outside the bubble as it flared into view again. Dumbledore scowled openly, and Fawkes seemed to test the boundaries of the bubble for a few seconds before he vanished and reappeared on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore looked at Fawkes again and nodded sadly as he said, "I was afraid of that, Fawkes. Thank you for trying."

"What is it, Professor?" Dumbledore turned to face Hermione, and his heart ached at the pain, fear, and helplessness in her voice as she asked again, "What's wrong with Harry?"

"I cannot know for sure, Hermione—but my tests so far point to a grim scenario." On the screen, the force bubble around Harry flared into visibility once again, and Dumbledore added in a voice that barely concealed the anger he was feeling: "However, I believe that the magic being used may have left us helpless to assist him—and that we are about to see the assailant reveal himself to all of us."

The force bubble continued to flicker as an unfocused mass of green seemed to congeal around it and formed into an increasingly visible form. When it finished, there were screams from the crowd, and more than a few people broke into tears. Harry Potter's impromptu prison was completely surrounded and somewhat obscured by a huge glowing green and black symbol that was completely and horrifyingly familiar to the vast majority of the crowd: the Dark Mark.

Hermione saw Luna and Neville trying to comfort Ginny as she screamed in rage, and felt Ron come up next to her. His hand grasped hers and he squeezed tightly as she squeezed back. She closed her eyes at the horrible sight before her, and began to pray.

"Hello, Potter—enjoying the game?"

Harry knew that voice intimately by now: it inhabited his nightmares and what should have been nightmares. He forced away the throbbing pain from his forehead, and replied, "Hello yourself, Snake-face—how's the effort to replace the incompetent goons the Aurors grabbed at the Ministry going for you?"

"Defiant to the end—keep it up, Potter: it will make it all the more sweet when I crush that arrogant posturing along with the rest of you." Voldemort sounded calm and confident, and Harry shivered inwardly at hearing it. Voldemort chuckled, and Harry heard it in his mind as the evil mastermind asked, "So what do you think about my little surprise, Potter—do you think the crowd is enjoying it?"

Harry looked around—noting that he still had complete control of his body—and was able to perceive the exterior decoration of his prison. He snickered and replied, "Not unless they're fans of tacky Slytherin designs. Over fifty years out of Hogwarts, and you're still stuck with Salazar Slytherin's bad taste in interior decoration."

Harry felt an odd sensation at the edge of his consciousness—as if his mind was a sphere of ice and someone was trying to get a good grip on it, and failing. He frowned, and he was certain that Voldemort sounded mildly frustrated as he resumed taunting Harry: "I happened to know a ritual, Potter. It only works on those of the caster's blood. Useless to me for a long time, of course, but the circumstances of my resurrection changed all that, and the existing link between us has made it all the more powerful. I have trapped you in a powerful sphere of force that cannot be pierced or bypassed by any external magic or other power. You saw that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore try to retrieve you and fail—and even his phoenix could not reach you. You will stay in this place until you die, either by my arts or by simple starvation and thirst. Unless, of course, you can defeat me and force me to cease the spell, and I am listening to your every thought and impulse—you cannot hope to defeat me. The crowd will watch you die, and their spirit will be broken. The last opposition to my rule will crumble like thousand-year old bones, and I will have all the time in the world to find a more competent group of servants, worthy of being by my side. Pity you won't be one of them—you really are a quite remarkable young wizard. You're not a match for me by any stretch of the imagination, of course, but you would have done quite well if you'd just had the sense to submit to the inevitable, Potter."

Between his Occlumency training and his recent experimentation with Parseltongue magic, Harry was accustomed to thinking on more than one level. He replied "You seem very sure of yourself," to the mental presence of Voldemort, while thinking on another level and speaking aloud, "You're a pathetic cowardly son of a useless Muggle, Tom."

"Why yes, Potter, I am very certain of myself—how good of you to notice." Voldemort's reply sounded amused and confident again—and Harry was convinced that he could not possibly have heard the vicious insult. I can feel him trying to get control of my mind, but something is holding him away—what is it? He pondered the question while making random remarks to Voldemort—one moment politely interested, the next defiant—and felt the sensation of slipping fingers continue, though it seemed that each time it took a bit longer for the grip to be lost.

Then it hit him. Voldemort thrived on negative emotions—fear, anger, and the like. Harry had been feeling very good about things when Voldemort completed the ritual and trapped him—he would find very little to feed on in Harry's mind at that moment. Furthermore, Harry knew that Voldemort was threatening no one but him at the moment—at least directly. If he could fight off the evil mastermind, he would stop the harm being inflicted on the crowd in the process. Think—positive emotions are holding him off. Our minds are connected—I should be able to attack him in some way. What's going to work the best? Harry thought for a moment, and the obvious solution occurred to him. Yes, but if he realizes in time what I'm doing, he'll end the ritual before my attack can harm him and he'll be free to try it again later under better circumstances for him—I need to keep him from ever wanting to do this again. Harry thought again, and a solution came to him—and the irony of it made him smile coldly. He carefully moved his hand and grasped his wand, then addressed Voldemort: "You know, Tom—you made one big mistake by choosing today to attack me."

Voldemort was livid at being addressed by his Muggle name by this pathetic excuse of a rival. He took a moment to force down his rage somewhat—no use causing the boy to expire from heart failure due to terror and thereby ruin his sadistic enjoyment prematurely—and replied, "Oh really, Potter? Pray tell—what mistake was that?"

There was silence for a moment, and when the response came, it began softly enough that Voldemort had to strain to hear it, forcing himself more thoroughly into the magical bond between himself and Harry: "You see, you miserable excuse for a wizard. . .I'M HAVING THE MOST WONDERFUL DAY OF MY LIFE!!!"

Voldemort drew back at the force of Harry's thoughts, and it took a few fatal moments for him to realizethat the words sounded odd. When he realized the last sentence had been spoken in Parseltongue—and the probable meaning of that phrase--he felt a surge of fury at his folly and desperately reached out with one hand to physically break the mystic circle he was sitting in.

He was a fraction of a second too late. He saw something huge and bright charging at him, and it smashed into his mind. He screamed shrilly at the indescribable pain for what seemed like forever to him, then fell into darkness.

No one who was at the match would ever forget that moment: from almost absolute silence, out of nowhere came the sound of Harry Potter's voice, amplified as if by an insanely powerful Sonorus Charm:

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!!!"

The massive Dark Mark vanished instantly, as if it were a feather in the path of a hurricane. On the Omniovision, all could see Harry touching his wand to his scar and concentrating intently. No one breathed for several seconds as the force bubble around Harry flickered, once, twice, then exploded in a massive burst that scattered golden light over everyone in the stadium. All touched by the light felt a tingle, then began to experience an almost irresistible feeling that everything was going to be all right. After a moment, everyone looked up again—and most felt awe at what they were seeing.

Harry Potter was sitting on his broom, smiling broadly—and surrounded by a silvery outline of a stag that was probably the size of an elephant. There were oohs and ahs, and a certain number of gasps. Hermione looked at Ron and smiled, and Ginny, Luna and Neville hugged each other in excitement as the stag slowly faded from view and Harry began to fly downward quickly. He landed next to Madam Hooch and began to speak. The referee listened for a moment, and the Omniovision showed her shaking her head in disbelief as she offered her hand and Harry shook it firmly. There was an unexpected flash of fire, and Fawkes was there. Harry reached into a pocket and pulled out some parchment, on which he scribbled a note and tied it around Fawkes' leg. The phoenix vanished and re-appeared next to Lee Jordan—who had been as transfixed as the rest of the crowd at the drama of the past few minutes. He took the note and nodded to Fawkes before reading the message, blinking, and leaning back to the microphone: "I have a message to read." The crowd went absolutely silent, and Lee read aloud: "Lord Can't Kill Me has been sent packing with a rather nasty headache, unless I miss my guess. Let's finish this match, shall we? Cheers, Harry."

There was a moment of shocked silence, then the cheers began—and they rendered trivial those that had come before. The stands shook and the goalposts quivered with the sound of sheer, unbridled joy and triumph as Harry flew upward and took a lap of the pitch. He flew right by the Hogwarts box and slowed down long enough to meet the eyes of his friends in the front row, and the others there—the DA, the Weasleys, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix who were present. Hermione smiled at him, heedless of the tears running down her face, and Dumbledore inclined his head with an expression of utmost respect. Harry winked, then waved and returned to his spot. There would be less than an hour to complete this match, and though topping what had gone on before seemed to be an impossible task, Harry intended to try.

Madam Hooch started play, and the action began again, fast and furious.

"This is so boring." Bellatrix Lestrange toyed with her wand and looked at the other occupants of the room in annoyance. "I'd love to be out torturing some Muggles rather than lurking in this bloody fortress doing nothing."

"Yes, we know, Bella—you've been saying that for hours now." Snape sounded more resigned to than irritated by Bellatrix's complaints as he examined the state of the shatterproofing spells on the small potion bottles he carried into the field. "If you want to do so, feel free—you are second-in-command, after all. I wouldn't think that the Dark Lord would reward the blatant insubordination it would represent, however."

Bellatrix scowled. "You're no fun, Sev." She shook her head and commented, "I wish we could have gone to the Quidditch match instead of sending that fool of a trainee to infiltrate. Mind you, I'd like to see Potter dead, but it sounded like it was going to be a bloody good match. Haven't seen a Quidditch match in fifteen years now—I miss it."

Snape snorted contemptuously. "I have to tolerate far too much Potter worship in the course of my duties as the Dark Lord's spy at Hogwarts to want to encounter more."

The other five Death Eaters in the room were low-ranking trainees, and knew better than to participate in banter between their betters. Bellatrix smirked at Snape and replied, "You let that boy get under your skin too readily, Sev. One would think that you were still smarting from your defeats at the hands of that dead fool James Potter—"

At that moment, a scream pierced the relative quiet of the mansion. There were no prisoners in the dungeon, and the sound had not come from any of the five lesser Death Eaters who had thrown themselves to the floor in absolute terror at the horrifying sound. Bellatrix turned to Snape, then jumped to her feet and ran for the sealed door at the other end of the room, reaching it just as the scream faded. She was starting to level her wand when Snape's voice quietly reminded her: "He gave strict orders that he was not to be disturbed, Bella."

"Sev—he wouldn't have screamed like that unless something terrible had happened to him. We've both seen him take Cruciatus spells and shake them off like they were nothing. He could be dying in there." Bellatrix stared at Snape with an implacable expression and snapped, "I'm going in after him—and I'm ordering you and the useless baggage back there to help."

Snape frowned, then turned and ordered the lesser Death Eaters to rise and form a semi-circle ten feet in front of the doorway. Snape and Bellatrix looked at each other, then raised their wands along with the other five as Bellatrix called out: "One—two—THREE!!"

Seven Reductor Curses hit the door, which chipped and shuddered but did not open. Snape called out, "Again!", and three more rounds of curses reduced the door to kindling. Bellatrix ran in and gasped, and the others followed her in to see what had caused her to react in that manner.

Lord Voldemort—the terror of the Wizarding World—was lying in a crumpled heap in the center of the ritual circle traced in blood, and he was twitching violently, as if he was being subjected to massive electrical shocks. The five lesser Death Eaters were frozen in terror, and Bellatrix didn't bother to try to snap them out of it, or to kill them for their cowardice. She turned to her only peer in the room and asked bluntly, "What's wrong with him?"

Snape leveled his wand at Voldemort—praying that whatever had attacked the Dark Lord wouldn't backlash against him too—and cast a diagnostic spell. He raised an eyebrow at the information he received, and turned back to Bellatrix with a grim expression: "Massive nerve damage—I don't think that even an hour under Cruciatus would have done this much to him. We should probably Stun and sedate him—he has remarkable recuperative powers, and we should wait to see what that can do for him before trying drastic measures." If only I could give him my potion—it would drain his power drastically for a substantial period. Unfortunately, he is very aware of the side effects of the potion, and he would undoubtedly see me dead for having crippled him, even if it is only temporary.

"What about that anti-Cruciatus potion you've been working on, Sev?" Bellatrix's voice intruded into Snape's thoughts, and the question caused him to feel a moment of amazement at how fate could sometimes play in one's favor. He turned back to face his fellow Death Eater, and Bellatrix pressed, "Wouldn't that heal him?"

Snape frowned, pretending to consider the question. "It should—but there might be side effects, and it has not been fully tested for this specific purpose. I do not think that the Dark Lord would want us to—"

"Sev—I'm in charge when he's disabled, and you just told me that your potion will save him. I'm ordering you to use it." Bellatrix glared at Snape, and the other Death Eaters in the room shivered as she added, "It's my call, and you know it."

Snape feigned reluctance, then replied, "Very well—all here will bear witness to the fact that you ordered me to take this course. I hope we do not have cause to regret it." He walked out of the ritual room and to the potions cabinet, from which he removed a large flask of a liquid that was completely black. He returned to the ritual room with the potion and stopped next to Bellatrix before commenting, "We'll have to Stun him—he'll need the full dose, and his convulsions might cause an unfortunate amount of spillage."

Bellatrix nodded, and she and Snape leveled their wands at Voldemort and simultaneously shouted "Stupefy!" Voldemort's convulsions stopped—though he still twitched occasionally—and Snape knelt next to Voldemort and administered the potion, making sure that he swallowed every drop. Snape immediately picked up Voldemort before the potion could start taking effect and called out, "I'll take him to his chamber to rest—it will take some time for the effects to be known."

Bellatrix looked at Snape and nodded, and Snape left the room with Voldemort in his arms. He was tempted to simply Apparate away with Voldemort and take him to Hogwarts, but he knew that there were properties that the Dark Lord possessed that he was not familiar with—an attempt to abduct him might cause some sort of fail-safe to be triggered that would kill him and leave Dumbledore blind as to what Voldemort was doing. He sighed at his ambivalence before continuing off to drop his burden in Voldemort's richly furnished bedchamber.

The sunset was beautiful, but Harry had no time to appreciate it as he continued to search for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Viktor as they both circled the pitch, looking for the telltale sign of the tiny ball that could end the match early. There were but ten minutes left until the match would be called, and the Vultures had pulled ahead 160 to 150. This match would be remembered for a long time, but without the Snitch being caught, it would always seem a bit lacking.

Suddenly, Harry's gaze fell on the center of the pitch, and—in an area where no players from either team were near—he saw a glimmer of gold as the reddening light from the sunset glanced off of a tiny object directly over the center of the pitch and about fifty feet below Harry. Harry did not intellectualize—he simply went into a power dive at the object three hundred feet away, and only had time to notice that Viktor—who was at about the same level as the Snitch and about fifty feet closer—had began to move towards the Snitch at the same instant that he had.

Lee's sharp eyes spotted the sudden motion from the two Seekers, and he only had time for a brief shout: "The Seekers have spotted the Snitch, and are diving at it from opposite sides—it'll be close!"

The two blurs seemed to converge, and Hermione had to choke down a scream as it looked for an instant as if they'd collide. They passed each other, and gradually slowed to a stop. The Snitch had vanished, and Harry and Viktor had buried their hands in their robes as they turned to face each other—fifty feet apart. The crowd was murmuring at the exciting near-miss, and it was only after a few moments that they realized that something very unusual was happening, and Lee Jordan quickly made it clear what it was: "The Snitch is gone—one of them must have it, but they're playing it cagey for some reason." There was a pause, and Lee made it clear that he had more than passing familiarity with Muggle sports as he shouted, "The Snitch-Cam. For heaven's sake, Dean—show the replay on the Snitch-Cam!"

Dean quickly complied, and the Omniovision showed the Snitch glowing in the sunset in the center of the screen, as Harry approached from above and the left, while Viktor came straight across from the right. Viktor seemed to be a bit closer, but Harry was diving, and he was visibly gaining as the view tightened and the speed of the replay slowed. The view tightened further and further, until the Snitch was alone on the screen for an instant—then two hands began to appear on the screen with agonizing slowness. One hand was reaching up from beneath and to the left of the Snitch, while the other was reaching across from the right and across—and they seemed to be dead even as they approached the glimmering object. Inch by inch, the hands reached for the Snitch, and the crowd watched in absolute silence as the hand coming from below—with just the hint of blue robe visible at the edge of the screen—closed over the Snitch an instant before the other hand would have done so, then pulled away quickly as the other hand closed on air.

The view shifted to the two Seekers looking at each other—then Harry Potter pulled his right hand from his robes and displayed the struggling Snitch.

Lee Jordan recovered first. "POTTER HAS THE SNITCH!! POTTER HAS THE SNITCH!! IN WHAT MAY HAVE BEEN THE MOST MEMORABLE QUIDDITCH MATCH EVER PLAYED, HARRY POTTER HAS BEATEN VIKTOR KRUM TO THE SNITCH BY THE BAREST FLICKER OF AN EYELASH AND WON THE MATCH FOR PUDDLEMERE UNITED, 300 TO 160!!"

The crowd erupted again, and the cheers were only slightly less deafening than the ones his ejection of Voldemort had provoked. Both the starting and reserve squads of Puddlemere United quickly were in the air surrounding him, and they led him in a victory lap as the crowd continued to cheer without pausing. There was bedlam in the Hogwarts box as Harry's friends and classmates celebrated, and Dean did a pan shot of the view there, revealing the celebrations to all. Irina was smiling sadly, watching Viktor look up at Harry with wonder on his face.

After passing the Hogwarts box, Harry broke away from his teammates and flew over to where Viktor was floating, then cast "Sonorus Omnibus" on himself once more. He shouted, "If I may have everyone's attention for a moment?" The crowd settled down quickly, and Harry appeared on the Omniovision next to Viktor. He nodded, and continued, "Well—that certainly was as great a match as anyone could have expected, in spite of that party-crasher I was forced to show to the exit a little while ago." The crowd cheered loudly again, then quieted as Harry signaled for silence and continued, "I'd like to thank my teammates on Puddlemere United for a fine performance and for keeping me in one piece, the Vrasta Vultures for a fine and cleanly played match, and most especially to the greatest Seeker I've ever met, Viktor Krum—who did me the honor of giving me his very best on this day, which led to a moment I'm sure neither of us will never forget."

Viktor smiled ruefully at Harry and nodded, and the crowd cheered at the reaction, but Harry wasn't paying attention. His eyes went to the Hogwarts box, and on a single slender figure standing in the front row. He swallowed hard, and inspiration hit him with the force of a freight train. He looked back at the crowd and concluded, "Excuse me, everyone—there's something I need to do now." He turned away from Viktor and started flying slowly towards the Hogwarts box, with a determined expression on his face.

Ron stared as Harry approached and drew his wand, and asked, "What's he doing?"

"Making a dramatic gesture." Ginny and Luna spoke at the same time, and both were smiling broadly. Hermione heard them, and she stared at Harry with increasingly uneasiness as he leveled his wand in the general direction of the box and hissed loudly. The Sonorus Omnibus Charm was still active, and the whole crowd could hear the hiss: there were more than a few people in that moment who wondered if the strain of the huge game and battling Voldemort had finally caused Harry to go around the bend. That impression was not dispelled when the Omniovision view showed Hermione floating gently out of the Hogwarts box and drifting over to Harry—who had stopped forty feet in front of the box—before settling on the broom in front of Harry, facing him.

Hermione's expression indicated that she was most definitely not amused, and she leaned in close to Harry, allowing the Sonorus Omnibus Charm to carry her words to the crowd as she snapped, "Look, Harry—I'm thrilled you're safe, and I'm very proud of you for what you've done tonight. . .but if you think you're going to change my mind by casting a simple Summoning Charm that I taught you in the first place, you're sadly mistaken."

The crowd watched in silent fascination as Harry's expression changed to a soft, satisfied smile that caused Hermione to blink as Harry replied, "Hermione—it's not the spell I cast: it's how I cast it."

Hermione frowned in confusion. That had been a remarkably gentle Summoning Spell, and he had cast it by-- Hermione gasped, then whispered: "You cast that spell in Parseltongue—what were the words you used for the incantation, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, then looked around and realized that one hundred and fifty thousand people were leaning in, raptly waiting to find out what he had said. He smiled apologetically at the crowd, then pointed his wand at his throat and whispered "Quietus" before he leaned in and whispered into Hermione's ear.

Hermione drew back from him, and her hand went to her mouth as her eyes widened in complete shock. The Omniovision view tightened, and all could see that Hermione's eyes—which had been implacable when she had first landed on Harry's broom—were full of tears, and a dazed smile was slowly spreading across her face. Her lips moved, and most could read them clearly: "Oh, Harry." She leaned forward, and Harry met her halfway as they kissed.

The crowd murmured, then began to cheer as Harry and Hermione continued kissing, with the Omniovision backing off far enough to keep things decent, but it remained the center of attention as Dean smiled in the control booth.

In the Hogwarts box, everyone was talking, but Ron's voice cut through the confusion: "What did he say?" He saw that Professor Dumbledore was watching his two prize students with a look of understanding on his face, and asked, "Professor Dumbledore—do you know?"

"I have a good idea, Ron—but there is one person here who could tell us with certainty." Dumbledore turned and looked over at a lovely red-haired girl who had tears running down her cheeks--accompanied by a huge smile--and asked gently, "Ginny—can you tell us what Harry said to cast that Summoning Charm?"

Ginny looked at the smile on Dumbledore's face and realized that he had long known her secret, and that her tears had betrayed it to the others. She looked around at her friends and family, then back at Harry and Hermione. As the tears continued to roll down her cheeks, she smiled again and answered in a voice full of wonder and joy for her friends:

"Come to me, my love."

Everyone in the booth stared at her for a moment, then turned to see Harry and Hermione flying towards the exit tunnel. Ron began to clap, and the others joined him as the young lovers left the scene of a Quidditch match that would be talked about for as long as the game was played, and as the sun set on the cheering crowd in the magnificent stadium that would soon only be a memory.

Author's Note: There are still a few loose ends to tie up, and I will be adding an Epilogue to deal with them.

As always, comments are welcomed and desired.