"Alright, Harry?"

Harry nodded, closing the last clasp on his Quidditch robe. "Yeah. Seems a bit ridiculous, us doing this now."

"Tell me about it." Ron hiked his broom up onto his shoulder. "It's only Hufflepuff, though, so at least it won't be too rough."

"Don't say that too loud. Mel hears you an' you'll be flying extra laps for a week."

Ron nodded. "You see it out there today?"

"Soup."

"Gray soup. That spell on your glasses still work?"

"Good as ever. Ready?" Harry slung the Firebolt over his shoulder.

"Let's go then."

Together they made their way through the Good Lucks and Go Get 'Ems in the Gryffindor common room and down to the locker room for Mel's first official pre-game speech. The state of things worried Harry immediately. The entire team seemed on the verge of vomiting all over the locker room. Even Mel seemed a bit green.

"This ain't good," Ron said, feeling the first tingle of nervousness creep into his stomach. Harry nodded his agreement.

"Harry!" Mel said, rushing up to him. "Everybody's gone bloody bonkers. We need to do something to loosen 'em up."

"You've got a speech, right?"

"Uh huh," she said with a hurried nod.

Harry had never seen her looking so unglued in her Quidditch uniform. His own nerves flared but he stamped them down.

"Listen, Mel, relax. It's Hufflepuff. We'll take 'em. You played all last year. It'll be fine. Just get everyone together and tell them that. You've got to believe it, though, or they won't."

"You tell 'em, Harry."

"I …" Harry paused, trying to think of words to describe the vibe he had gotten from the team this year. "It's your team, Mel. They see me different – I don't know how to explain it. Me being calm won't make them calm. They just think I'm calm because I'm the Boy Who Lived, an' that's not what we need here."

Harry glanced around. All eyes were on the two of them now. The rest of the room had gone silent.

"Showtime," he whispered. He looked back at Ron for support, but his best friend looked extraordinarily pale. The bad feeling in Harry's stomach sent cold shocks up his spine and along the backs of his arms.

"Okay, Gryffindor, listen up," Mel said. Her voice came out with authority, but at the end of the sentence she gulped loudly, unnerved by her position. Harry could see the fear spread among the others. As she spoke, in words echoing Oliver and Angelina but in tone completely uninspiring, Harry silently prayed he could find the Snitch quickly.

"Is he still staring?" Willow whispered, leaning the left side of her head above Tara's right ear. Under the blanket, she felt Tara shrug. Willow tried to lean around and get a look at Snape, who had been eyeing Tara oddly all morning. The two of them and Jess were huddled under a massive red and gold blanket. They took up most of a row in the teacher's box, with Grey, Remus Lupin and Hagrid filling it out.

Willow's clumsiness got the best of her. She slipped a bit as she leaned over and the frantic scramble to keep her from tumbling out of the row ended with her draped across Tara with her hands in a few naughty places and the other two witches tangled in the blanket.

"Oh! Sorry! Sorry," she said again, disentangling herself from Tara's lap. A twinge of guilt passed through her at the same time she thought how comfy Tara's lap was.

"You three cozy enough in there?" Grey asked pointedly.

"Why? Jealous?" Willow smirked, trying to hide her embarrassment. Grey narrowed his eyes but didn't respond.

"He's right possessive, Willow. Best be careful," Jess said, her voice mocking.

"Oh, it's not the snuggling I object to," he said, affecting a fake leer, "it's the blanket."

Next to him, Remus shook his head. A quick vision of James, Lily and Sirius popped into his head, and he repressed a smile. It was good to see somebody on the campus still having a little fun. Good cheer had been in very short supply lately.

"You're welcome to join us," Tara said to Grey in a surprisingly husky voice. "It might be educational." She gave him her best film-noir-vixen smile.

Grey and Willow both turned pink. Jess guffawed. Hagrid, watching from the end of the row and, unable to hear most of the banter, could only lean in and look confused.

"You lot okay down there? Don't think I wanna here what yer sayin' ter one another, do I?"

"We're good. Plus, you really don't," Willow said, still pink but trying to play along. To Tara, she said: "I admit it, I'm a slut. I was with Grey this morning and now here I am all snug and blankety with two girls."

"This morning?" Jess said with raised eyebrows. Grey and Willow darkened from pink to red, and he shot Willow an embarrassed glance. "Way more than I need to hear, don't you know."

"Whose j-jealous now?" Tara asked playfully.

"Oh, like you're not," the dark-haired girl retorted. "Doin' penance an' savin' the world isn't quite the same without the victory snogs."

Lupin leaned around Grey and gave all four of them his Professor's glare.

"Not to stop this riveting digression, as I do so enjoy hearing about the sexual exploits of the Hogwarts staff, but could you four PLEASE stop talking so I can catch just a tiny bit of the match?"

The drizzle annoyed Harry more than it hindered him, and he actually enjoyed playing under such overcast skies. The clouds made for good contrast to spot the Snitch.

Today, however, they didn't seem to be any help, and if he didn't find the Snitch soon, Gryffindor was looking at the worst Quidditch upset in a long time.

His worst fears had been confirmed almost from the opening whistle. Eric Silver and Mike Gold, though they had begun to show coherence on the practice field, managed to blunder so badly that they had each managed to hit the other with a Bludger. Ron was faring no better. He had saved the first shot of the game easily, but after that he seemed to give up a goal for every one he saved. Many of them he could do nothing about; with no help from the Beaters, he was a sitting duck. One Hufflepuff chaser, third-year Laura Connolly, scored six goals in the first ten minutes, and the others weren't far behind. Gryffindor's Chasers were doing reasonably well, and in a normal match, they would be dead even or better with 70 points in the time that had elapsed.

Unfortunately, Hufflepuff already had 210.

The Gryffindor defense showed no signs of hardening. Harry watched with growing horror as Hufflepuff stole a pass from Ron to Seamus and swooped back in for another score. He looked over at Cho Chang flying parallel to him. She offered a brief look of sympathy, then replaced it quickly with a smirk of triumph. Like a shark, she could smell the blood in the water, and that realization made Harry's stomach churn. He tore his gaze away and went back to casting about for the Snitch.

"Cho!"

Harry and Cho both turned. Across the field, Connolly was waving madly at the Snitch dancing in front of her face. She couldn't reach out and grab it, but Cho took off like a shot and Connolly dropped into a steep dive to get out of the way. Harry reacted nearly as fast as Cho and his Firebolt was much faster than her Cleansweep. In a half-second he caught her. As he pulled ahead, he could hear the air rushing past his ears, dulling the roar of the crowd with its rumble. Everything seemed to fall away. All he had to do was get to the Snitch first and he could salvage a tie. A tie wasn't a win, but a tie and two wins would bring home the Quidditch cup as much as three wins would. This was it for Hufflepuff; he doubted they would last long against either Slytherin or Ravenclaw.

Standings were a matter for a different day, though. His entire being was focused on the Snitch, buzzing in a mad circle near the Gryffindor end. He barely heard Ron shout to the Beaters to try and block Cho, which, Harry knew, they would fail to do. One of the Hufflepuff Chasers came from nowhere to try and knock him off course, but he saw the broom in his peripheral vision and barrel-rolled perfectly to avoid him. The Chaser whizzed by with a rush of air, never touching him.

The Snitch suddenly broke from its circle as if it sensed Harry's approach and sped away from him. He didn't care. The Firebolt was faster than the Snitch, too, and he could feel practically the whole field watching as he closed on it. Cho was trailing off to his left, but she wouldn't reach it before he did.

His hand was a broom-length away from the Snitch when the Bludger slammed into his right eye and the world went dark.

The droan of conversation beat a pounding rhythm in his head. Harry lifted his palms to his ears to block it out, but the pain was impervious. Even when the voices stopped shouting his name and began whispering instead, the pain stayed.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?" Ginny whispered above him. She put her hand to his elbow, then slid it slowly up his arm until she had her hand in his.

"Gin?" His voice came out harsh and raspy.

"Water – he needs water," Tara said to someone. Harry didn't know who fetched it, but he suddenly felt a mug at his lips.

"Here, hon. Sip this," Ginny said. Harry sipped some water, then gulped a bit more. "How's your head?"

"Feels like it got in the way of a Bludger." He cracked his eyes open, blinking away the gluey remnants of a poor sleep. Tara, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were at his bedside.

"It did, at that," Ron said, his voice filled with false cheer. His unhappiness was obvious on his face. "Alright, Harry?"

"Did we … what happened?" He knew the answer already, but he had to know.

"Cho caught the Snitch," Ron said, his voice heavy. "Hafta give her credit – bloody excellent flying. She caught the Snitch right after she caught you. Without her, you'd've taken a fifty-foot header into the pitch."

"We lost."

"We got thrashed, mate." Ron frowned. "Bad enough that we're a longshot for the Cup, even with two games to play."

Hermione wasn't speaking. She was staring at what Harry knew was the massive bruise on the side of his face. He could feel it throb as she watched him, then suddenly she put a hand to her mouth and rushed out of the room.

"'Mione …" Ron turned to stop her but he was way too late. "Bloody hell. Not again."

"Again?" Ginny asked.

"She …" Ron's shoulders sagged and he plopped heavily onto the bed next to Harry. "After Harry got hit she was cryin' and did a runner for the dorm. Wouldn't tell me why. S'been happening a lot lately. She won't ever say why."

"M-maybe she's scared," Tara offered, watching the three Gryffindors carefully. She had never seen them all so downcast at once. Even Harry, whose head probably hurt like the devil, seemed a little more beaten up than usual. "You guys have been through so much lately, and now Harry's h-hurt doing something you do all the time. It's a lot for anybody."

"But … 'Mione," Ron said, "she's always been so strong. She never gets all weepy. Well, not a lot, anyway," he amended, remembering Hermione's outburst before the troll attacked her in the bathroom. "I jus' don't know what to do. She won't talk ta me about anythin'."

Harry leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes. The others kept talking. Ginny and Tara offered Ron some advice and encouragement about talking to Hermione, but Harry tuned them out. He knew it wouldn't help. The pressure of keeping this war secret, mixed with the pain and humiliation that they all felt from Grindelwald's attack, was breaking them all down. Hermione was the first to let it affect her visibly, but they were all falling prey to it. Flying had always been his escape from it before now, but it had followed him up onto his broom earlier and cracked his concentration. His carelessness with the Bludger and his inability to get the prophecy out of his head went hand in hand.

A wave of guilt washed over him. The prophecy. Voldemort was his enemy. His enemy who had sent a crazy dead wizard to torment them. Hermione's problems were his fault. Worse, there was no way to undo it. Hermione might never recover. She might be hurt more in the next attack. Harry had no way of stopping that, no way of safeguarding her from it. He knew she would stand with him until the end.

What he didn't know was how soon that might be.

"Good evening, Tom."

Red eyes crackled with fury for a brief instant. Then the fury turned to warmth as Voldemort spun around to face the speaker. A robed arm extended and the two wizards gripped each other's hand."

"So you survived."

"I did, my friend, and in fine fashion. It seems I no longer need to eat or drink or even sleep."

"As I am aware." The grin left Voldemort's skull-like face and he squeezed Grindelwald's pale hand painfully. "It seems you no longer have any need for victory, either."

Grindelwald's eyes widened with pain.

"But, Tom, I…"

Voldemort lifted his free hand and Grindelwald flew backwards into the stone wall of the castle. Loose mortar puffed into a gray cloud around the reanimated wizard.

"I am Lord Voldemort now." A flick of his wand and Voldemort sent a blue bolt of electricity into Grindelwald's chest. The howl of pain brought a smile to the Dark Lord's face. "You are not my teacher anymore. You are a servant, created to do my will. Thus far, you have failed miserably. Need I emphasize that point further?"

Grindelwald coughed mortar dust from his lungs. The indignity of his position burned inside his chest. I will kill you for this, Tom. And not slowly, he thought. Instead of speaking it aloud, though, he shook his head and said "No, my lord" in his most submissive voice.

Voldemort nodded, a grim smile reappearing on his skull-like face. "I thought not. I have brought you back for a reason, and I thought it best that we establish who is the teacher and who is the principal straightaway." Voldemort offered his hand once again, helping Grindelwald to his feet. A scouring spell took care of the dust.

"What would you have me do … master?" Grindelwald spat out the last word.

The grim smile widened into a genuine grin.

"I have grand plans for you, Augustan. Grand plans." Voldemort pulled a scroll from beneath his robes and handed it to Grindelwald. The second wizard glanced at it, then began to read in earnest as Voldemort continued to speak. "I know you loathe following orders, old friend. And I realize your first assignment was quite beneath a man of your talents, whether you completed it or not. This is what I require from you."

"I did not kill the girls, it's true, but I injured them nonetheless. I don't believe they had been tortured before." Grindelwald looked up from the scroll, smiling evilly. "I do so love being there for the first time."

"Yes, I know you do."

"They will remember me for quite a while. Especially the brown-haired one, Granger I think it was. She was on the verge of breaking completely. It was delicious." His eyes went wide as he reached the middle of the scroll. "This is what you wish me to do?"

"Yes. If we are to live forever and rule the world, my friend, we will need another generation of servants at our beck and call, wouldn't you agree?"