Rated R for swearing, violence, and suicide (and/or suicide-related issues). If this offends anyone, don't read. Thought I'd add that I own nadda. All characters, names and related indicia are property of J.K. Rowling. I am merely trying to share some of her goodness in a non-illegal way. :)
-- Book excerpts taken from Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp by J.K. Rowling
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Chapter 11: Intrusion
"They will too!"
"They will not."
"They will too!"
"They will not."
"They will too!"
"Ron, you know they won't."
Ron seized Harry's copy of Quidditch Through the Ages (right out of his hands), and flipped the pages until he began to read desperately.
"Ahem. 'The Chudley Cannons' glory days may be considered by many to be over, but their devoted fans live in hope of a renaissance.' Ha, see that, Hermione?" He paused spectacularly and went on. "The Cannons have won the league twenty one times.'"
Hermione just looked at him.
"They will make a comeback," Ron concluded smugly, flopping down cross- legged on the floor in front of the fire. "You just wait. Any day now they'll return."
Hermione pried the book out of Ron's hands. Harry watched solemnly as his place was lost while Hermione flipped through to find the page Ron had read from.
"'The Chudley Cannons' glory days may be considered by many to be over, but their devoted fans live in hope of a renaissance. The Cannons have won the league twenty one times, but the last time they did so was in 1892 and their performance over the last century has been lackluster. The club motto was changed in 1972 from "We Shall Conquer" to "Let's All Just Keep Our Fingers Crossed and Hope for the Best.'"
Hermione slapped the book shut and levitated it back over to Harry.
She threw a pointed look at Ron. "They won't."
Ron scowled at her and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Know-it-all."
Harry found his chapter again (Chapter 4: The Arrival of the Golden Snitch), and tried to resume reading, but Hermione and Ron's arguing was distracting him. All they ever did nowadays was bicker, and Harry had to wonder sometimes how the hell the two of them stayed friends. He shook his head as he observed Ron, his face the colour of his hair, defending his favourite Quidditch team, while Hermione remained cool and collected, spewing forth facts that squashed Ron's incoherent babbling to bits. Harry sighed.
"So Ron," he interrupted loudly, book marking his page. "What d'you think about the game against Slytherin, eh?"
Ron looked up as though surprised anyone else was there. He remained grumpy. "I'll be rubbish," he glared, picking angrily at the rug beneath him. "You saw me last year."
"Last year you helped us win," Hermione pointed out, itching her forehead with her quill. "Remember?"
"That was just a good game," Ron continued. "Slytherin will crush us."
"Oh, with that kind of mentality, of course they will!" Hermione said exasperatedly, throwing up her hands. "Ron...if you let them know how...unsure you are of yourself, they'll use your weakness to their advantage."
"Oh, so now I'm weak?"
"Well, when you say it like that of course it sounds horrible...but no, you're not weak - "
"Why don't you try out for Keeper, then? You seem to know loads about it."
"Oh Ron, just because you played a bunch of bad games last year - "
"So you admit it? I'm rubbish?"
Harry groaned and stood up. He shouldn't have said anything; now the two were arguing again. Lovely. Such a bond of friendship. He decided to take himself and his book down to the library where talking was punishable by law.
"Harry, where are you going?"
Hermione and Ron were looking at him.
"Library," Harry muttered. "I'd like to read undisturbed, if that's OK."
"She started it," Ron said accusingly, pointing a finger at the girl curled up in the armchair. Hermione tutted and rolled her eyes.
Harry climbed out through the portrait hole and walked slowly down the corridor, thinking hard about the upcoming match. Angelina had changed her mind and called practices every night beginning tomorrow instead of calling their first one on Sunday. He was glad he'd been working like mad the past few weeks and didn't have any hugely important piles of homework like Ron did; otherwise he'd be even more of a wreck than he already was. He was also happy that he'd avoided being given any detentions. Even after the D.A.D.A class he'd gone through with Snape, he had been mercifully spared. So had Snape. After all, teachers weren't allowed to attack students and vice-versa. Harry doubted that even Dumbledore knew about it yet, although the word was sure to go around sooner or later.
That was one of the strangest things he'd ever experienced, laughing with Professor Snape. Some would call it the work of God that the man had even cracked a smile, let alone chuckled. But he'd openly laughed; a deep baritone sound that had filled the corridor and caught Harry very off-guard. And as soon as the laughing had started, it had stopped.
They had seemed to realize what had passed between them. Something other than hate, which surely was not possible whatsoever.
They never went to the hospital wing. Snape had mumbled something about needing to get back to clean up the dungeons and Harry had returned to Gryffindor Tower. When questioned about it later he'd just said that Madame Pomphrey couldn't find anything wrong with them and had sent them on their way.
"You didn't miss anything important," Hermione had assured him later in the evening when he saw her at dinner. "Lupin just explained...or at least, tried to explain your duel, then all the other groups had a go."
Harry was surprised when he found himself outside the library. He walked in past Madame Pince, who scowled and narrowed her eyes at him as though he'd already committed some sort of crime. Harry knew she was thinking about the Easter chocolate he'd shared with Ginny the previous year. She would most likely never forget it, either. He suppressed a shudder and chose an empty table in a corner, sat himself down, and had a go at reading once more; thankful that the library wasn't that full of students tonight.
'From the early 1100s, Snidget-hunting had been popular among many witches and wizards. The Golden Snidget (see Fig. B), is today a protected species, but at that time Golden Snidgets were common in northern Europe, though difficult to detect by Muggles because of their aptitude at hiding and their very great speed.'
Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. Even with their help his eyesight was getting bleary. He was tired. He stared at the same spot on the page for a few minutes, his mind blissfully clear. Time alone was a welcome thing once in a while, especially since his evenings would be filled for the next two months with Quidditch practice. Ah well, at least he would be forced to get into shape again. Every summer left him thin and soft on account of him not eating...
His scar twinged a little.
"Hello, Harry."
Harry snapped back to reality and smiled genuinely as Ginny took a seat opposite him at the table. His heart beat a little quicker than it had been a moment ago. Madame Pince was glowering at them both. Ginny rolled her eyes.
"She's never going to forget the chocolate, is she?"
"Don't reckon so," Harry said, laughing a little. He noticed Ginny's cheeks were very rosy and that she was wearing her outdoor robes, which bulged a little at each pocket.
"Been running around outside, then?"
Ginny suddenly smiled mischievously. She leaned in towards Harry, her brown eyes positively sparkling. "I've just been to Honeyduke's," she whispered. Harry's emerald eyes widened in shock.
"Honeyduke's!"
"Shhhhh!" Ginny warned, looking around. "I was desperate for sweets and I remembered something Fred and George told me about the One-Eyed Witch so I checked it out and...voila!" She patted her robes and Harry unmistakably heard the crunch of paper bags.
Harry's admiration for her grew. "Wow, Ginny...how'd you get in from the cellar without anyone seeing you?"
"Well, someone almost did," the girl said matter-of-factly, checking to see what Harry was reading. "I was about halfway up the stairs and the door opened so I had to bloody well dive back down and hide myself round the barrels."
Harry whistled. "Whoa. You could have asked to borrow my Invisibility Cloak, you know...Ginny, you might have been expelled if you were caught."
"Thank you, Hermione," Ginny said, grinning. She chewed thoughtfully on her lip for a moment.
"What'd you get, anyway?"
"Oh, you know. The usual. Whizbees and Drooble's and Chocolate Frogs..."
A few moments of silence passed between them. Harry yawned loudly and earned a significant glance from the librarian.
"So...Quidditch tryouts on Sunday?" Ginny asked.
"No," Harry replied. "Haven't you heard? They've been moved to tomorrow evening."
"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed. "Wow, nobody told me. Thanks, Harry."
"What position are you going for?"
"Beater, obviously," she said. "I was hoping for Chaser, but Gryffindor's already got them..."
Harry nodded. She'd be very good, whatever position she played. She certainly had the talent. Ginny busied herself with her pockets.
She was a great person, Ginny. One of the most down-to-earth people he'd ever met, apart from the time she never talked to him during his first couple years at Hogwarts.
He looked at her and studied her red hair, which had gotten very frizzy and wild from the cold. The light of the torches made it slightly shimmer. He noted the way her skin was rosy from being outdoors, making her freckles almost invisible, and he gazed at her chocolate eyes and oh dear god, he liked Ginny Weasley. Ron was going to kill him.
"Er," Harry suddenly stuttered, standing up. "I'd...I'd better be getting back, then."
"Well I'll come with you," the girl replied, smiling and looking at him. Oh damn, he'd forgotten she was in Gryffindor too. He blushed.
Harry swallowed and led the way, tensing as he passed Madame Pince, and emerged into the cold corridor...
...Only to run into Draco Malfoy.
Harry stopped short and closed his eyes. He could practically feel the pressure of Malfoy's delighted smirk. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him as usual, flexing their muscles and cracking their overly large knuckles threateningly and Harry found himself wondering if Malfoy ever went anywhere without them. He knew the two brutes could do damage if they wanted to, but their presence no longer sparked fear in Harry any longer like they used to. They looked rather stupid, actually.
"Well, well, well!" Malfoy said; crossing his arms and tilting his head a little to study the two Gryffindors. "What's this? Potter's got himself a girlfriend!"
"Sod off, Malfoy," Ginny hissed, throwing him a scathing look and starting to march away. Goyle quickly grabbed one of her arms and held her tightly.
"Hey!" she snapped, glaring at him. "Piss off!"
"What a dirty mouth you have," Malfoy remarked, his eyes icy. He looked at Harry almost amusedly. "You always get the feisty ones, don't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry growled. Malfoy's smirk grew and he strode up to Harry until they were face-to-face. Harry gripped his wand in his pocket. He really wasn't in the mood.
"I've just had a run-in with the Mudblood," the Slytherin whispered. Harry's temper flared. "I think she was coming down here to look for you."
"Not now, Malfoy."
"She was devastated," Malfoy went on, his eyes glittering like Snape's. "She tried not to let me get to her, but I think I did, Potter. I really think I did."
Harry was tired. He was pissed off. He was worried. He tried to stay maddeningly calm.
Malfoy leaned in even closer, as he had done that night in the dungeons. "You've been very good at keeping our little secret, haven't you? The Mudblood matters something to you, does she? I'm afraid that won't help you stop me from making her life a living hell. You see, I don't generally take pity on things like her."
Harry looked murderous and he growled with a voice sounding oddly like Professor Snape's, "Things like her? Do you want to repeat that, Malfoy?"
"Empty threat," the blond boy sneered, backing away slightly. "And you know it." Ginny was looking from one to the other, clearly confused, as she hadn't heard a word they had said.
"Malfoy," Harry said loudly. "If you don't call off your dogs and leave Ginny alone, I'll hex you into a pile of shit on the floor."
"Wouldn't make much of a difference in his appearance, really," Ginny said, glaring at the Slytherin. "I'd say his mother would be happy, though...he'd look loads better, nonetheless..." She pulled out her wand and muttered something, causing Goyle to let go of her arm as though he'd been burned. "I told you to piss off. Come on, Harry, let's go."
Harry looked Malfoy in the eye for a moment longer and hurried after Ginny down the corridor. His worry grew.
"Do you think Malfoy was bluffing?" Ginny asked, and Harry could tell she felt the same as he did.
"I don't know," Harry said truthfully. "I hope nothing's happened..." And if something had happened to Hermione...it would be his own fault. And he'd have to kill the blond Slytherin git with his bare hands.
They didn't speak until they'd reached Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady was reading an apparently deeply absorbing novel when the two approached.
"Ahem," Ginny said. The Lady stirred, blinking.
"Password?"
"Newt Scamander," Harry answered impatiently. The portrait swung open and they clambered inside.
"Hermione?" Harry called, running over to the common room fire and finding her sitting on a chair. She looked up at him and confirmed what Malfoy had said – she looked like she'd cried her eyes out. Ron was perched on the armrest, his brow furrowed. He looked at Harry darkly and Harry sighed.
"What happened?"
"The git's got a way with words," Ron said, looking at Hermione sadly. "I keep telling her he's just being a pure-blooded idiot and not to let him get to her, but..."
"Oh Hermione," Ginny said comfortingly, sinking onto the large chair beside her. "What did he say?"
"Never mind, I'm being silly," Hermione said, wiping her eyes. "Ron's right, I should've just told him to bugger off or something..."
"He said the usual," Ron piped up.
"He said I was a filthy Mudblood," Hermione sniffed. "And that I didn't belong here and just because I'm book smart doesn't mean I'm a true witch. I'm an embarrassment to 'his kind.' V-Voldemort is back and he'll be coming for people like me...Malfoy will personally make sure he tells his father that m-my family and I make him angry...I'm not worth anything...things like that..." She started to cry again and Ginny hugged her.
"Remember last summer on the train home?" Ginny said, smiling ever so slightly. "How they were hexed into oblivion and left on the luggage rack to ooze?"
Hermione choked out a laugh.
Harry was boiling with rage. He pulled his robes over his head until he was in his jeans and t-shirt, and flung the black fabric over the back of a nearby chair. He couldn't imagine how Malfoy would dare threaten Hermione with Voldemort...that was horrible...
"I'm going to murder him."
"Now Harry," Hermione said warningly. "Don't do anything stupid."
Harry looked incredulously at her. "Hermione...after what he said to you...what, d'you expect me to do nothing?"
"I agree with Harry," Ginny said. "Let's just kill him and leave him in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom..." she winked at Harry and pulled a paper bag from one of her pockets.
"Where'd you get that?" Ron asked her, eyeing the package.
"Nowhere," his sister replied, offering Hermione a Chocolate Frog.
Harry's scar prickled very unpleasantly again and he felt the beginnings of a headache spring to life in his temples. It was getting late.
"I'm going up to bed," he said, gathering his robes and his book. "Headache...I don't want one when tomorrow rolls around...night all."
Everyone bade him goodnight and Harry climbed the dormitory stairs, getting the nasty feeling that this was going to be another long night of nightmares.
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It hurts, doesn't it?
Of course it does. Because when I'm with you, everything hurts.
I'm not going to leave you. I will always be here, watching, waiting, and speaking to you when no one else can help you.
You are mine. You will never escape. I will never die.
We are so much alike, you and I.
It hurts...ah yes; I can feel your pain. Whereas you interpret pain to hurt, hurt so much that it stabs, it bleeds, it makes you whimper and cry out like a worthless, pathetic Muggle...I interpret pain differently. It is something to be rejoiced. A source of pleasure. When it hurts, I am happy.
Does it hurt, Harry?
"Harry?"
The black-haired boy came out of the innermost depths of his mind as though shocked, and almost like he was in slow motion, he turned his aching, burning head in the direction of the voice.
The common room fire was roaring and he frowned slightly. When he'd stumbled down to sit by himself it had been nothing more than a few glowering embers. He sorely wished it wasn't Dobby, although he liked the House Elf, he wasn't in the mood for listening to babble. Then he remembered that if it were indeed Dobby, he would have been addressed as 'Mr. Potter.'
Ginny was in front of him, looked at him, troubled. "Can't you sleep?"
Harry didn't dare shake his head; the pain was standing on the edge of overtaking him completely. He couldn't speak and his throat felt red raw, like someone had taken sandpaper to it. He felt so feverish he would've liked to do nothing else but pass out, but he knew that...he...wouldn't let him.
Harry was terrified.
Ginny arranged herself cross-legged on the rug in front of his chair. Her hair was messy from sleep and she wore blue, baggy plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized and violently purple Weird Sisters t-shirt. Tonks would've been proud.
The girl looked at him. "You look ill," she said. "You look very ill. Are you feeling all right?"
Harry closed his eyes. Go away. He couldn't speak or move. He was paralyzed. He could feel another force...something evil...working through him, infecting each vein as it explored him. His mind ached and stung at the intrusion and he tried desperately to clear it. He was sweating. He was held fast by nausea, fear, and the knowledge that something was inside him that was not welcome. He closed his eyes, wondering if it could see through them as he did.
"Harry? Why aren't you saying anything?" He heard Ginny move and felt her blissfully cold hand on his forehead.
"Merlin's beard, you're burning. Should I call for Professor McGonagall?"
No. Please don't, Harry thought.
"D'you want me to get Ron?"
Do you care for this girl, Harry?
"Get away from me, Ginny."
Harry opened his eyes and Ginny was looking at him, confused and hurt. "What?"
"Go back to bed," Harry rasped. "I'm OK. I just can't sleep, that's all."
You do care for this girl, don't you Harry? Why? Has love ever done anything for you? Think about it. Think very, very hard.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. His world had turned red and he wasn't looking through his own eyes anymore.
Ginny screamed.
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