Later that night, Harry lied awake in bed. Ron had long since started snoring, and he knew he ought to get some rest for the match tomorrow, but the more he reminded himself how necessary it was that he sleep, the less he was able to.

He wanted to clear his mind – he [I]had[/I] to clear his mind, otherwise he'd be easy prey for more "nightmares" or "visions," or whatever Dumbledore had decided they were.

Harry rolled over uncomfortably. What exactly was happening inside his head? There were the visions of Sirius...he'd had nightmares about him all summer. But now...with Lord Voldemort's voice...and his scar [I]had[/I] hurt.

Could Voldemort really bring people back from the dead? It sounded ridiculous.

"But you can kill people," Harry thought, "You can kill people with just a wave of your wand and some magic words." Why couldn't you bring them back just as easily?

His mind wandered back to last year. Hermione had just given him a bowl of essence of murtlap, after a particularly nasty night with Umbridge. His heart tugged in his chest – but he squashed it down. It was the sort of thing any friend would do. He remembered how he'd broken it, in his temper, and repaired the bowl.

"But there's no putting that spilled murtlap back in the bowl," Harry thought sadly, "Just like there's no returning the prophecy to that orb, just like there's no bringing Sirius..."

But he stopped himself. He'd never get to sleep if he kept on like this. He rolled over irritatedly, his sheets rustling and the bedframe creaking. In the dead of night, it sounded quite a bit louder than it really was. Ron's snoring stopped abruptly behind the curtains.

"Mmmnnnggh...Harry, go t'sleep," Ron murmured through his half-asleep drawl, "We've got'game in the morning."

"Sorry," Harry whispered, feeling an irrational surge of annoyance. Oh, was there a game tomorrow?

Sloper and Kirke were mildly improved, but they'd probably lose their cool against Slytherin. Ginny and Broderick had both built up their endurance, but he still wished they could have played Slytherin at the end of the year, when they'd be even stronger. Neville's flying had improved incrementally, but it was nowhere fast enough to take on Slytherin. He guiltily pushed away a furtive hope that he'd be knocked off his broom so Broderick could step in. He suddenly realized he didn't hear Neville's distinctive nose-whistle from the other side of the room.

"Well, at least someone else is awake," Harry thought. He felt a brief moment of companionship. Neville had been with them at the Ministry, he'd been his Secret Keeper, and now, he'd be part of the Quidditch team...in fact, he'd been in their boat on their very first trip to Hogwarts.

The brief moment of peace was pushed aside by other worries. He felt like his mind was a Snitch, darting wildly from one direction to the other.

Who were those two people Snape was talking to? And why is Hagrid inviting all the non-humans to school? Am I really glimpsing the future? What does Hermione see in Ron, anyway?

He felt particularly guilty at this last bit. Ron was a great guy, and a good friend after all.

"Well yes," he reasoned with himself, "I know what I see in him. But what does [I]she[/I] see in him? I mean, his grades are so-so, he's awfully blunt...fine, he's tall, and he's beefed up a bit."

He shuddered at the thought of Hermione and Ron...

"Now I really [I]must[/I] sleep," Harry told himself sternly.

He closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath, practicing what Trelawney had taught him.

"Protego," he thought gently, "Protego." He found that thinking this on his way to Occlumency with Snape made his mind harder to penetrate.

He settled in, feeling considerably lighter. He still wasn't sleepy, but at least he didn't feel like a hundred voices were vying for attention in his skull.

Finally, after another half hour, he pulled the hangings closed as quietly as he could, and settled in to sleep.

He was dreaming about the game tomorrow...his parents were in the stands, cheering for him, along with Sirius, who was laughing his bark-like laugh, and waving. Harry waved back, happily, and went back to the game.

Suddenly his mother's cheering turned into screaming...high-pitched, shrieking...

His scar began to prickle slightly.

"No," he thought sternly in his dream, "Not going to happen."

The prickling faded briefly, but then returned more strongly...Despite his frustration, Harry felt a leaping feeling in his chest... he was...happy.

Images flickered before his eyes, interrupting the Quidditch match...slitted nostrils in pale flesh...his parents standing behind him, one hand on his shoulders...Sirius...

Sirius's face was thin and drawn. His eyes were haunted, as they'd seemed when he'd first escaped Azkaban. He put one hand on Harry's shoulder and held him there, tightly.

"What is it you desire?" he asked.

Harry willed himself to wake up, but Sirius had him by the shoulder...he was shaking him...

"Harry! Get up!"

Harry blinked his eyes open slowly, his scar still tingling slightly. He found Ron shaking his shoulder, wearing his Weasley sweater.

"Come on, mate. Breakfast!"

"Right," Harry said, snapping awake. Quidditch today.

"What's the weather like?"

"Cloudy," Ron said, "And cold. But no sign of rain, and visibility's perfect."

"Excellent," Harry said, pulling his trousers on, and feeling his worries crumble just a bit. Maybe something was finally going to go right.

"Is Neville up?"

"Dunno," Ron said, frowning a bit. "Oi! Neville!"

There was a muffled squeak from behind the curtains.

"Time to face the music, mate," Ron called, with a cheerful wink at Harry, "Don't worry, your first one's always the worst."

Through some miracle, Neville managed to get himself properly dressed, and they headed down to breakfast, where Hermione was already waiting for them, reading the Daily Prophet.

Neville's hands were shaking so badly, his eggs kept falling off his fork before he could eat them. Ginny was forcing herself to take small bites of toast, methodically chewing and swallowing – but Harry could tell from the way she was blankly staring at the oak table that she was nervous as well.

"Try some toast," Ron said pushing a plate over to Neville, "No fork required."

"I m-must've been m-m-mental," Neville moaned quietly.

Ron laughed. "You sound like Aaronson! Come on, Neville...It's only Quidditch."

"Only Quidditch?" Hermione said, with a raised eyebrow, "This is Ron Weasley speaking, is it not?"

Ron shrugged, and helped himself to a heaping plate of bacon, eggs, sausage, and toast.

"Don't get me wrong, it's still the best. But after last year...."

There was a brief quiet at the table. Neville even managed to stop shaking.

"Well," Ron said awkwardly, "There's more important things aren't there? Not many, of course," he added hurriedly.

Harry smiled, and felt himself relax a bit.

"I mean, if you're not having fun, who cares how well you do?" Ron added finally. Ginny seemed to regain some of her usual spark. Neville even managed to take a hearty bite of toast.

"Anything interesting?" Harry asked.

Hermione frowned, "Another break-in at Gringotts."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprisedly, "I thought it was supposed to be impossible to break in there."

"Well, they managed it in our first year, didn't they?" Ron added.

"What were they after?"

"Doesn't say," Hermione said thoughtfully, "I don't like this."

"Well if it isn't Twinkletoes, Potty, and the Mudblood!"

"Ignore him," Hermione said acidly, putting a restraining hand on Ron's shoulder, as he and Harry had both started to their feet.

"And who else is dining at the loser's table, today?" Malfoy said, looking up and down the table. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him as always, smirking stupidly.

"Why, it's Longbottom!" Malfoy said, cheerfully clapping Neville on the shoulder, "Never thought I'd see you on a broom again...hope you've still got your Remembrall with you...maybe you'll remember first year and break your arm again. Don't worry though," Malfoy said with a sneer, nudging Crabbe in the ribs, "If you forget, we'll remind you."

"Why don't I remind you of what happened on the train, Malfoy," Ginny spat, her eyes blazing emeralds, "Though I don't suppose I can shrink them much further before they disappear."

Harry and Ron snorted, and even Neville managed a weak smile. Draco scowled viciously, then regained his trademark sneer.

"Ah, the Weasl-ette," Malfoy said slowly, "Hope you can stay on your broom...doesn't seem like you've had much practice keeping your legs [I]together[/I] lately."

Before they could do anything, Ron had stood up, reached back, and laid an almighty punch right across Malfoy's face.

"[I]TAKE IT BACK![/I]" he hollered, as Malfoy lay sprawled across the floor. To Harry's horror, it didn't seem like Malfoy was conscious.

Crabbe and Goyle made to grab onto Ron, but the entire Great Hall had erupted into pandemonium. Ginny had whipped out her wand, but Harry grabbed her shirt, and pulled her back down.

"STAY DOWN!" Harry bellowed to the Quidditch team, seeing Jack, Andrew, and Katie running down the table, "GO SIT! NOW!" If this turned into a team riot, they were liable to be banned for the year!

"[I]Petrificus Totalus![/I]" Hermione shrieked, wielding her wand, and Crabbe went rigid, and fell with a dull squashy noise to the stone floor.

"[I]Furnunculus![/I]" "[I]Impedimenta![/I]"

Luna and Cho stood side by side – having been seated at the Ravenclaw table, they were the closest members of the D.A. Goyle tripped and fell, his hands and face sprouting into formless clumps of spongy fungus.

Neville had occupied himself with the formidable task of trying to keep Ron from leaping on top of Draco Malfoy. He had Ron under the armpits, and was wincing as Ron inadvertently whacked him with his elbows in his struggle.

"[I]WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?[/I]" cried Professor McGonagall, and all activity ceased, except for Ron's incessant struggling. Harry put a hand over his face.

"[I]Immobulus![/I]" Professor McGongall shouted, and Ron found himself frozen, his face a mask of anger.

The students sat frozen where they were, as though McGonagall had jinxed them all – Teachers never used magic on students...

"[I]MR. POTTER![/I]" she barked, and Harry felt his stomach sink, "You are the Gryffindor team captain – would you care to offer [I]any[/I] explanation for your teammate?"

Harry felt his face go red. He wanted to stick up for Ron, but he knew that they McGonagall was dangerously close to forfeiting the match.

"Draco...said—"

"[I]Said?[/I]," McGonagall bellowed, "I don't care what Mr. Malfoy may have [I]said.[/I] Do you think anything excuses this kind of mindless violence?"

Harry hung his head. He knew what was coming.

"No, Professor."

"And what appropriate action do you think I should take at this point?" she asked, her lips a narrow line, nostrils flaring.

Harry looked into Ron's eyes, which had turned to his direction. He tried to send some kind of mental apology, but the anger frozen on Ron's face didn't help.

Harry sighed.

"Take him out of today's game," he murmured under his breath.

"What?" Draco shouted from the floor, having miraculously regained consciousness, "The [I]whole team[/I] should forfeit!"

"[I]That will do[/I], Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall said curtly.

"Mr. Potter," she continued, "I have half a mind to ban Mr. Weasley for the [I]entire season[/I]! This kind of violence is absolutely [I]abhorrent[/I], and goes against everything Gryffindor stands for. With a different Headmaster, Mr. Weasley might be expelled!"

Something inside Harry snapped.

"Just like Malfoy was expelled?" he asked, standing up to meet her eye.

There was long pause where no one seemed to blink.

"The match," Harry thought, "You're a team captain now."

He sat down, and looked at the table top.

"I'm sorry Professor," he said, "Whatever you think is best."

There was another long silence, where Harry willed himself not to look up.

"You've done it now," Harry thought miserably, "Katie is going to have your hide. The whole team is going to be banned."

"Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, addressing the frozen Ron, "I am taking you out of every practice this week, during which time, you will serve detention with me. If this is in any way unacceptable to you, please let me know, and I will be happy to ban you from Quidditch for the rest of the year! From now on, I expect you to solve your problems with your mind, not your fists."

She straightened up, and addressed Harry again.

"I trust you and your teammates will be able to conduct yourselves as Gryffindors this afternoon?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said meekly.

She nodded curtly and turned to go. She flicked her wand over her shoulder and said, "[I]Finite incantatem.[/I]"

Ron lurched forward as the spell was lifted, and then stopped himself. Crabbe and Goyle also reverted to their regular state, and promptly picked Draco up off the floor.

"Professor!" Ron called. McGonagall turned and looked at him reproachfully above her spectacles.

"Uhm," Ron said, wilting under her withering glare, "Can I still play today?"

McGonagall paused for a moment, and Harry thought he saw something wrestling behind her eyes. Finally, he detected the slightest hint of a smile.

"You may play today, Mr. Weasley. After all, Mr. Malfoy was not banned from playing Quidditch. It seems," she said, looking slightly over her shoulder towards Professor Snape, "That a precedent has been set for leniency in these cases."

Harry grinned in spite of himself, and looked up at Snape, who was scowling down on them from the teacher's table.

Malfoy sneered at Ron. "See you out there."

But at the look on Ron's face, he beat a hasty retreat, with as much dignity as he could muster.

Ron sat moodily down at the table, as the rest of the Gryffindor team walked over.

"I know," he said gruffly, "I've hurt the team, and 'That was really irresponsible, Ron...' I know. So don't say it."

"You got off lucky, mate," Harry said, trying to show him the upside, "I thought she was going to ban the whole team!"

"It was what you said, Harry!" said Jack happily, "About Malfoy getting off easy!"

"Well," Katie said, "Whatever it was, count your blessings, and get ready for a tough match!"

"Right!" Andrew said, thumping the table, a fevered look in his eyes, "We're going to tenderize those Slytherins, fry 'em up, and eat 'em for dinner!"

"Let's just try to win," Harry said, feeling a bit nauseous at the idea.

"Err..."

Cho was standing there awkwardly, Luna having sat down next to Neville, absentmindedly finishing his toast for him. Harry felt a little nervous – what did she want?

"Yes?"

"Oh," she said, "Nothing. Just, good luck."

"Thanks," Harry said, "And thanks for helping and everything. You too, Luna."

Luna looked up at the sound of her name, located Harry and waved cheerfully before returning to Neville's toast.

"It was nothing," Cho said, waving it off, "Malfoy's an idiot. Well, good luck to everyone."

Harry nodded gratefully. It seemed like Cho was finally ready to be friends, at least.

Ron was still scowling with his arms folded. Hermione nudged him with her shoulder.

"That was really irresponsible, Ron," she said timidly.

"I told you not to say it."

She smiled warmly, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Just do your best. Remember, 'If you're not having fun...'" she added teasingly.

Ron's cheeks reddened, and his scowl seemed to soften. Hermione ruffled his hair, and stood up to go.

Harry looked away, and stood up as well. Ginny followed stiffly, her face red. She crossed her arms self-consciously.

"You alright, Ginny?"

"Fine," she said, not meeting his eye, "Fine."

"Look," Harry said, putting one hand on her shoulder, "Malfoy's—"

"An idiot, I know," Ginny said, still not meeting his eye.

Harry put a hand on her shoulder.

"Listen, nobody...Nobody thinks that about you. Think about it – he's Slytherin's captain, right? He's just trying to shake your confidence...it means he's scared of you."

Ginny seemed to consider this.

"It's all mind-games," Harry said reassuringly, "Trying to psych out the best players. He does it every year. It's almost a compliment, really."

Ginny smiled slightly.

"Come on," Harry said, feeling his nerves begin to jangle pleasantly, "The weather's perfect...as soon as you get on a broomstick, you'll forget all about it. Let's go play some Quidditch."

Neville got up from his place, looking pale green. Luna took him cheerfully by the arm, and guided him towards the door.

"Don't worry," she said cheerfully, "You won't break your arm. I asked my troll to keep an eye on you last night, and he winked at me. Of course, it might have been a dustbunny," she said thoughtfully, "Or a bundimun. School's full of them this time of year."