Disclaimer: We aren't making any money from J. K. Rowling's work or William Goldman's.

IMPORTANT A/N: This is to those who read that we would be back with updates on Monday, and believed us. We made a mistake there. We actually came back yesterday, and updated. We did this so that we can be finished with the story on Friday, because then we will go on a longer trip and won't be back until after the 16nth. So, read chapter 17 first.

Yeah, we're nearing the end. In this chapter, we had some fun with long words, and there are a lot of POV shifts. Anyway, enjoy.


FFF

18. – Poking the Dragon in the Eye

"I can't believe she made me read this," said Harry. They were in their dormitory. Harry was leafing through Kya's book of nature-related verse.

"Aha," said Ron. "So you admit it. You read them."

"It all comes back to me now," said Harry, in despair. "Discussing the deep meaning of starlings perched in a beech tree… she really must have brainwashed me."

"Let me see," said Hermione. She took the book, and read a passage out loud:

"The birch leaf drifts in the summer breeze

An aerial dance of colour and form

If it could but reflect the depth of my heart

I might find myself in this pre-summer morn

Oh woe is me

For I cannot run

And I cannot see

What I have become!"

Hermione read it with such false sincerity that it had them all in stitches.

"'Oh woe is me'? Is she serious?" Hermione gasped.

"I hope not," said Neville.

"Well, she'd better be, or else it won't be much use insulting her about it," said Ron. He got up and stretched.

"By the way," he said, "I don't understand why we can't just use that antidote on everyone, instead of trying to provoke her like this. Do you really think she'll lose it enough for people to realize what she's up to?"

"Well, imagine how long time it would take for us to use the potion on everyone," said Hermione. "Half the school would be back under her control by the time we'd finished."

"Besides, we can't prove that she's a spy," said Harry. "We only have Snape's and your word for what happened with Luna. Who do you think they'll believe? Especially If we pour that stuff into their faces."

Harry and Hermione were still red around the eyes, almost a week after Snape had forcedly cured them.

"I suppose so," said Ron. "But I still think we're underestimating her a bit. Do you really believe she'll go insane and attack me in front of the entire school? I mean, I'll do it, but it would be nice to know we had a backup plan."

"Well, I'm sorry, we can't help you there," said Hermione. "But we'll make sure she doesn't kill you."

"Or that the crowd doesn't kill me when they hear me insult Kya," said Ron.

"I wonder why Dumbledore isn't doing anything," said Harry.

"Maybe he is, only he isn't telling us?" Neville suggested.

"And not telling Snape either?" said Ron. "I can't imagine Kya could control him, though…"

"Have you seen him at all lately?" Hermione asked.

They were quiet for a while, thinking.


Saturday afternoon had arrived, and the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was about to start. Everybody was excited about the game, and no-one noticed the unusual tenseness in three of the team members.

The first of the three was understandably anxious, for he was about to commit an act of selfless sacrifice that, if it went wrong, practically amounted to suicide. The second was quite distraught, as he would have to watch his best friend commit said act of selfless sacrifice that, if it went wrong, practically amounted to suicide. He was also plagued by the knowledge that, should the worst come to the worst, the only thing he could do for his friend was to throw himself onto the pyre alongside him. As for the third, she had not a clue what was about to happen to her brother and (she hoped) her paramour-to-be. Her present state of inner turmoil must instead be attributed to the intense feeling of foreboding that haunted her mind, for absolutely no reason at all.

The two teams stood assembled on the pitch, on this blustery and overcast late-autumn day. Ginny's hands trembled with the cold, as she gripped the handle of her broom while waiting for the sound of Madame Hooch's whistle, that would signal the start of the game. The whistle was sounded, and all the players kicked off from the ground. As she soared skywards, Ginny felt the wind sharply lash at her face, whipping her hair out behind her and tugging at her robes. She closed her eyes for a second, simply enjoying the incomparable sensation of being airborne.

However, her cares and worries were not swept away on the wind, as they usually were when the elation of flying filled her. She couldn't get the niggling thought out of her head;

what if Ron is right?

She glanced at Kya, who was streaking elegantly across the pitch, Quaffle in hand. Her hair fluttered like a banner in her wake, and her smile lit up the entire pitch. All eyes were fixed on her.

And why shouldn't they be? Ginny asked herself. Kya was unusually striking as she flew there, dressed in scarlet, radiating her particular radiance. It was perfectly natural that even the Slytherin team seemed riveted by her. Perfectly natural.


Honestly, what was wrong with everybody?

An hour into the match, and people were still staring intently at the stunning scarlet streak that was Kya.

The game so far might as well have been fixed. Ginny had managed to score fifteen times in one hour. Kya had scored twenty three. Their team had gained a disturbing amount of points during such a short period.

Actually, Ginny thought, an hour was long enough. Why hadn't Harry caught the Snitch yet? Often, it could take ages for a Seeker to catch it, but with Harry that generally wasn't the case, and Ginny was impatient for the match to end. The game was getting rather pointless.


Three hours into the game. The tenth time she had narrowly dodged a Bludger. Where were those Beaters?

Ginny had been hovering by the Slytherin goalposts for the past fifteen minutes, putting the Quaffle through the hoop again and again. No-one cared.

And there was Kya, her red robes fluttering about her form, hugging it in all the right places, even while she was doing loop-the-loops over the stands. The crowd cheered and threw confetti at her. Recently, Malfoy had joined in the ballet, spinning alongside his girlfriend, although never achieving her graceful arcs.

Ginny looked at them in disgust. What a joke!

What was Harry doing?

"Harry?" she called. "The snitch! Where is it?"

"If I knew where it was, I would have caught it!" Harry shouted back.

"Well, find it then!" Ginny roared. "I'm bored out of my scull!"

"As… you… wish…" Harry answered, and he went into a steep dive.

Moments later, after a three and a half hour game, Harry had caught the snitch.


"I've caught the Snitch!" Harry shouted to the crowd in the stands. "Hey! I've got the Snitch! The game's over!"

The crowd cheered and threw more glittery confetti, but he knew it wasn't for him.

The rest of the Quidditch players finally landed. The Slytherins looked dazed and confused, as if they had no idea of what had just happened. Harry couldn't blame them. He had been there.

Gryffindor had won spectacularly, with two thousand and ten points to zero. Much of this was thanks to Ginny, who had been the only one with enough presence of mind to realize that the Slytherin goalposts had been undefended for a large part of the match. Kya had scored a lot at the beginning of the game, but she had tired of it pretty quickly and had started to perform aerial acrobatics for the audience's amusement instead.

It had been Harry's job to keep from catching the Snitch for as long as possible, so that Kya would be sufficiently tired when the match finally ended. He prayed that she was, because he could now see Ron walking towards her, poetry book in hand.


Ron hurried towards the part of the pitch, where the rest of his euphoric team members had gathered.

"Kya!" he called out, in the most pleasant voice he could muster under the circumstances. "Kya, I – I found this – this book! These are your poems, right?"

When she heard him utter the word "poems", Kya finally turned around to face him.

"I mean, you did write them, right?" said Ron. He hoped he didn't sound as nervous as he was.

Kya glanced at the book in his hand. Then, giving him a treacle-soaked smile, replied,

"Why yes, I did! Do you like them?" she added, clearly expecting him to answer affirmatively.

Well, thought Ron, at least there was no danger of anyone not seeing this. The whole school was focusing on them with a disturbing intensity.

"Erm… So you're admitting you actually wrote these, then?"

Kya looked perplexed. That hadn't sounded like a positive response.

"Er… 'Midnight at Frosty Lake'," he said, since she hadn't answered. "You wrote that?"

"Yes," said Kya, quite unsettled. She had no idea where this was going.

"Seriously, is this what you think up when you're alone at night?"

"Yes," said Kya, obviously fazed. "What's your point?"

"Just this," said Ron. He cleared his throat, and, in his best sarcastic voice, started to read it out loud;

"As midnight softly approacheth

I smile when I'm all alone

I sit by the frozen waters

And hear the wind's sorrowful moan

But were thou with me, dearest

My heart would smile as well

My expression is now but the mask

That hides a hollow shell"

The crowd around them gasped. Then they fell silent, awaiting Kya's reaction.

"Honestly, 'approacheth'? Pretty cheesy, if you ask me," said Ron, bravely. "But then again, that goes with the rest of you. And what about this mask you're talking about? Got any secrets?"

Kya didn't say anything at first, but it was evident that she was seething with anger. That led Ron to believe that their plan had worked, and that she was about to do something really crazy, which would reveal her true nature to the entire school.

Then she spoke.

"Oh Ron," she whispered. "You have no idea of what you just did."