A Series of Very Weird Events

Part 5:

The day of the Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin arrived, and the excitement surrounding the game was greater than any game before. For weeks there had been whispering in the halls, ever since Draco Malfoy was chosen as the new Seeker for the Gryffindor team, and Harry Potter was chosen as the new Seeker for the Slytherin team. Everyone was asking the same question: Could Gryffindor beat Slytherin now that it had lost one of its key players, or were they doomed from the start? Everyone acknowledged the fact that Draco was good enough, but he was nothing compared to Harry Potter. Several students had been punished with detention for starting pools and staking money on the game, but still there were many people betting on either team. All the halls were draped with green and silver, red and gold, and large banners either reading "Go Gryffindor" or "Go Slytherin" were a common sight in Hogwarts for several days in advance. Harry Potter and his friends had made it a habit to rip the gold and red off the walls, however, and some Slytherins had started painting on the banners, turning 'Gryffindor' into 'Gryffinbore' or 'Gryffindope', something all Slytherins found exceedingly amusing.

Now, the day had come, and Harry Potter floated high up in the sky on his new broomstick, the very latest model, which he had received two days before as a personal gift from Lucius Malfoy, along with the promise that he would attend. He could see that he had honoured that promise, as he hung there in the air, looking out across the cheering crowds, for there he was, sitting in the same place as Professor Dumbledore and the other teachers. He could see him raising his chin just a tad when he saw Harry was looking at him, probably as a greeting, and Harry mimicked his move, greeting him back. He let his gaze wander further, past Professor Snape, who was staring intently at him, and nodded slightly when Harry looked at him - another movement Harry mimicked - and then onto the stands, where he first saw the people cheering for Gryffindor, and then the people cheering for Slytherin. To his great delight, the Gryffindor stands were much fuller than the Slytherin stands. It was perfect. This way, it would hurt that much more when Slytherin beat them into the ground.

He turned to the game, and saw that Madam Hooch had entered the court, and was shouting the rules. He didn't pay much attention. Instead, he focused on the smiling Draco Malfoy, who was hanging in the air before him, staring lovingly up at the clear sky with glee. It was too easy! Three minutes into the game, the stupid fool would probably be distracted by a butterfly and fly off in the wrong direction! And with Weasley guarding the goals...Slytherin couldn't lose. Finally, the Snitch and Bludgers were released, and a moment later, the Quaffle was in the air, and Hooch blew the whistle. The game was afoot, and so, chaos erupted on the court. A Slytherin Chaser caught the Quaffle, and immediately headed for the goal, dodging a Bludger on his way, before he passed it to a female Slytherin Chaser, who made it all the way to the goal and ensured Slytherin their first ten points. Harry smirked and looked around, finding that Draco Malfoy had already been distracted, but not by a butterfly, as Harry had expected. Instead, it was a leaf blowing in the wind. Harry felt a strong urge to shout at him, because the way he was acting made him just plain annoying, but he suppressed the urge and instead set out to find the Snitch. Before he'd found it, the score was already 50 - 10 to Slytherin, all in a matter of minutes. He smirked in Ron's direction, but it didn't seem to affect him, even though he was looking straight at him. Staring, in fact... He took his mind off the game for a moment, and was about to shout something at him when Ron suddenly gasped.

"Harry, look out!" he shouted at pointed at something behind Harry. He turned slightly, just in time to see the Bludger come soaring towards him. He ducked, and the Bludger missed him by an inch. When he looked up again, Ron was sighing with relief, and Slytherin scored again, without him even noticing. Harry knew Ron was pathetic as a goalie, but he knew he wasn't this bad at guarding the goals, nor had he ever before been this protective over members of the opposing team... Oh, well. If the idiot wanted to dig his own grave, Harry at least would not try to stop him.

Another twenty points were scored by Slytherin before Ron made the first save of the game, and the score was now 80-10. Harry was bored. They were winning the game, and all, but this was taking too long. He looked around, searching for that little ball of gold that would be around here, somewhere, and managed to locate it soaring just above the Gryffindor stands. Before he'd even had time to think, he was after it, heading straight for the stands. People screamed, they hadn't seen him coming, nor had they noticed the Snitch, yet, and he was heading straight for them. Just before he crashed into them, however, he turned upwards with his arm outstretched towards the Snitch, his hand open and ready to grab it. It was mere inches away, he could feel it at the tip of his finger. His other hand was clutched around the broom as he leaned forwards and stretched towards the golden Snitch. Carefully, he loosened his grip and slid his hand further up the broom and then grabbed it tightly again, pulling himself forward with a jolt. His hand closed. He hadn't noticed until then that he had been travelling straight up for a long while, he hadn't noticed it until his broom dove downwards under his sudden weight, and he was faced with the ground growing closer and closer for every passing second. His hand remained closed as he scrambled atop his broom, trying his best to slide back on it and steady the weight, but it was a lost cause. Instead, he had to pull at the broom, pull it forth. He didn't get far back on it, but far enough to tilt it slightly upwards, so it was diving down at an angle. The ground came closer closer and he struggled to lift the broom further, unwilling to use his other hand to help him. He couldn't open his hand, not now. Using all his force, he leaned back and pulled up, the ground was mere meters underfoot, and he just managed to get it horizontal before he hit the ground. He was safe. The broom slowed, and he presented his hand, producing a ball of gold with the most delicate wings...

"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch!" the voice echoed out across the stadium, "Gryffind...I mean Slytherin has won the match!"

The Slytherin supporters cheered loudly, and he looked up from the Snitch, let his eyes travel from the cheering Slytherins to the rest of the school as they stared at the sight before them in horror. Slytherin had beat Gryffindor, just as they had feared, but refused to face in the past few days. He lifted the Snitch high above his head, smirked at the onlookers, and the cheering from the Slytherin side grew stronger. He heard his name being shouted in unison from up there; 'Harry, Harry, Harry', and his smirk grew to a grin. He let his eyes travel further, to the Professors' stand, where he saw Lucius Malfoy, applauding his victory. His victory! He nodded to him, and Lucius nodded back. It was all the confirmation he needed, before he let his gaze travel further, to Professor Snape, who was also applauding, if not so openly as Lucius. What was this? He should be celebrating! He had beaten McGonagall, Slytherin had beaten Gryffindor, and Harry had beaten Draco, so why wasn't he celebrating? But there it was, that glance sent to the side, towards McGonagall, and a smirk that lasted for several seconds, while his applauding grew stronger. He had made the Head of his House proud. His work here was done.

They would be here soon. Harry was sitting on his own in his room in the dormitory, while the others were in the common room, celebrating their victory. They were sure they would win the House Cup, this year, everyone was sure Harry would lead them to victory. He should be out there celebrating with them, but what was a victory unless it was followed by a grand gesture? Harry had such a gesture in mind, one he had retired into this room to inform some of his fellow Slytherins about. He had ordered Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and two fourth year boys, whose names he hadn't bothered to learn, to come to his quarters ten minutes after he had left, and he expected they would obey. Originally, he had only wanted Crabbe, Goyle and Nott to come with him, but after he'd thought about it, he'd decided that they might need two look-outs. Some extra hands would only do them good, and the fourth years should count themselves lucky to even be considered for this task. After all, it was he, Harry Potter, who was asking; the same person who had lead them to victory, and would lead them to victory again, in more than one way. Much better than bloody Draco Malfoy.

After a few minutes of waiting, they all arrived, at once. He was disappointed. He had given them direct orders not to attract attention to themselves, and then they had just up and left the celebration as a crowd? People were bound to have noticed that. But it was Slytherin people, thank the lord, meaning they were safe, for now. He got up after they had all entered the room, and closed the door behind them.

"Idiots!" he exclaimed, "I told you not to draw attention to yourselves! Don't you think people would have noticed five people leaving for the same place at the exact same time?"

The five boys looked uneasily at each other, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Never mind!" he barked, and walked back to his bed. He lay down and studied his five accomplices. Idiots, all and one. "You're lucky it's only Slytherins out there, or you could have drawn unwanted attention to our task."

He closed his eyes, waiting for the questions that undoubtedly would come. When they didn't come, he opened his eyes again, and looked the five boys over once more. Crabbe and Goyle seemed normal enough; somewhat pale, but otherwise as usual, Nott was perhaps a little darker around the eyes than usual, and there was some kind of alertness in his eyes Harry didn't much care for, but it was Nott, after all. One could not expect too much. It wasn't until his eyes reached the two younger boys that it all finally settled in.

"You're afraid of me?" he exclaimed and sat up. The five boys nodded in unison, especially the youngest fourth year, which was as pale as a ghost with big, round eyes that stared at Harry in obvious terror.

"You shouldn't have to be," Harry continued and lay back down, "You should be here out of loyalty, not simply out of fear."

"Actually, Harry," the oldest fourth-year started, but immediately added: "Sir," when he saw the look on Harry's face, "Actually, Sir, we're here...well at least I'm here out of loyalty despite my fear of you."

Harry studied the boy standing before him. So one of them had a brain, did he?

"What's your name?" he asked, and the boy immediately answered.

"James, Sir. James Keegs."

"Keegs. Very well. Take a seat, Keegs. The rest of you can stand."

As Keegs pulled up a chair and sat down, Harry continued speaking, deciding that this was taking too long.

"You're probably wondering why I wanted to see you all?" the boys nodded, and Harry was again disappointed, especially in Crabbe and Goyle. It wasn't as though he hadn't tried dropping them notes, it wasn't like he hadn't given them every opportunity to figure out what it was he was planning, but had they managed to pick up on his hints? No. Honestly. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn't be better off on his own. He always managed to remind himself, however, that every leader needed some idiots to follow him; some idiots it would be easy to sacrifice, should the need arise. But he'd hold onto this Keegs fellow. He didn't seem as dim-witted as the rest of them.

"Tonight," he continued after a short pause, "we pay a visit to Gryffindor House."

The assembly was silent for a moment, as they thought it over in silent puzzlement. Only Keegs was returning Harry's satisfied smirk, something that earned him another few points in Harry's book.

"Why, Harry?" Goyle finally asked, and Harry sat up while he violently rubbed his eyes. If he ever met the Dark Lord again, he would offer Goyle up as a personal present. His scar gave a sudden twinge, but he ignored it.

"Because," Harry started, "We are going to paint their common-room green. Magically, of course. The swine deserve it. They're all Mudbloods and Weasleys; it's a disgrace to the wizarding world!"

His accomplices laughed, now, finally getting the joke. Keegs was, to Harry's great dismay, the first to stop laughing.

"What?" Harry asked, glaring at him.

"I was just wondering how you're proposing we get into the Gryffindor common-room."

Well. At least it was an intelligent question, and also one Harry could easily answer. Of course, he chose not to.

"You leave that up to me, Keegs. Just make sure you're all ready to go at two o'clock tonight."

They hadn't noticed him when he stole their passwords. Of course they hadn't, those Gryffindors wouldn't notice a dragon landing on their heads! Of course, he had been protected by the invisibility cloak, which had never failed him in the past. For some reason, however, he'd had a feeling that something would go wrong, this time, and that he'd get caught. But he hadn't. He'd learned the password, and here they were, the six of them, walking through the darkness with their wands lit. He'd decided that this was a perfect opportunity to use the Marauder's Map, since he was, truly, up to no good, and he followed it now, leading his accomplices through the halls at high speed.

"Harry!" Keegs hissed, but Harry ignored him. He'd allowed Keegs to call him Harry, now, since he was proving himself to be the brightest member of his inner circle, despite his young age. He was only two years younger than Harry, but he still considered him to be a child. He was only fourteen, barely a man at all. He was lucky to be under Harry's rule.

"Harry!" Keegs hissed again, and this time Harry nodded towards him, telling him that he acknowledged his call, "We don't know where we're going!"

"I know," Harry answered, not bothering to whisper.

"Harry, keep your voice down! What if a teacher comes..."

"I'll know!" Harry interrupted, raising his voice just a tad. Some of the portraits around them complained a little, but Harry silenced them with a quick glare in their direction. One reamrked that he'd never seen a more cruel-looking child, and Harry felt inclined to go back and correct him; he was not a child, not anymore.

Finally, they were there, standing before the Fat Lady, as it should be. Harry brought his illuminated wand close to her portrait, and her eyes slid open.

"What...what on earth is this..." she muttered, before Harry drew back his wand, and she got a chance to fully open her eyes.

Harry stepped closer to her, and whispered the password to her, silently enough to prevent the others from hearing, and she gasped loudly.

"But...but...you're not from Gryffindor!" she exclaimed, and Harry smirked.

"Tonight we are," he said in a whisper, and raised his wand towards her, "Silencio!" he said, loudly, and watched as the Fat Lady opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to make any sound. He smirked again, and turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who were also smirking. The entrance into Gryffindor House opened, and Harry motioned for the fourth-year whose name he still didn't know, Nott and Keegs to enter before him, while Crabbe and Goyle were to enter after him. Keegs might have been the smartest of the five, but he still wanted Crabbe and Goyle to be the ones watching his back. At least he knew they were loyal, and would never question his decisions. Keegs...Keegs was perhaps too smart for his own good.

They entered the common-room one by one, Harry as fourth, and looked around. They split into three groups, as Harry had instructed them to do once they got this far; Crabbe and Goyle getting started on magically painting the room green, Nott and Keegs cursing the doors to the dormitories so that those sleeping within them wouldn't be able to hear what was going on in the common-room, and the fourth-year standing watch by the entrance, in case anyone should notice the Fat Lady's silenced state and decide to check things out. Harry had looked up the spells Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Keegs were using, and had thus decided that, since he had done all the work leading up to this affair, he didn't have to do any of the work here. He wouldn't have had to do even the work leading up to this, of course. The other five were here to serve him, after all.

He sat down in one of the chairs, and soon noticed that it was the chair he had favoured when he was a Gryffindor. Old habits were hard to kill, it seemed... With a flick of his wand and a few whispered words, he had turned the chair green and silver, in stripes, and he sat back in it, making himself comfortable. This shouldn't take too long.

He had only sat there for a moment when he saw it, rolled up into a ball under the Gryffindor table, which had now turned dark green. Crookshanks, sleeping peacefully, warmed by all that fur... Harry smirked, and motioned for Crabbe, who was currently turning things green along with Goyle, Nott and Keegs, to come to his side; an order he immediately obeyed. He made him come up close, so he could whisper something to him. This was to be a surprise for the other boys. He knew they'd appreciate it.

Five minutes later, Crookshanks had escaped under a cupboard, and Harry was content. The room was green, somewhere either dotted or striped with silver, as well, and all that remained was that last touch, the one saved especially for him. He raised his wand, and quickly his silver strokes appeared on the wall as he wrote his personal greeting to the Gryffindors. Greetings from an old friend. It was a stroke of genius, he had to admit. They would all know who it was, but none of them would be able to prove it. Gryffindor had many old friends; it could be any of them. He smirked at the wall, they all did, and none of them noticed the faint creaking sound that should tell them that someone had exited the dormitories and was heading for where they stood.

"Harry?" the person soon made himself known, however, and Harry knew who it was before he even turned around.

"Neville."

The six Slytherin boys all swirled around with their wands raised, and in unison cried out:

"Expelliarmus!"

Before any of them even had time to register it, Neville was flying backwards with enough speed to beat the sound barrier, and crashed into the wall some meters behind him with a loud bang, before he slid to the floor and remained there, completely quiet. They were left standing there for a few moments, all of them staring at Neville's lifeless body in terror. Harry was the first to react.

"Leave him!" he cried out, and the other five stared at him in shock, "He'll probably live. We have to go."

The other five stared at him in amazement for a moment, before they finally started moving, collecting their robes, most of which had been placed on Harry's silver and green chair as they worked. Harry studied Neville for a moment, feeling his scar burning slightly. The boy's wand was lying on the ground where he had been standing when their curses hit him... He turned to his fellow Slytherins, who were still collecting their things. There was only one way out of this.

"You!" he said and pointed at the fourth-year, who immediately stepped forth, trembling slightly, "I choose you."

He shrugged, almost apologetically, before he raised his wand and directed it at him.

"Stupefy!" he said loudly, and the boy immediately went rigid and fell onto the floor. "Nott," Harry continued, and Nott unwillingly responded.

"Yes...Harry?" he hesitantly said, and Harry motioned towards Neville's wand, lying on the floor.

"Put that thing in the Gryffindor's hand. It'll look like they fought."

Nott nodded, but he hesitated for a moment before he went to pick up the wand and put it in Neville's hand.

"And undo the curses on the doors while you're at it; we can't leave any traces."

Nott immediately went to work on undoing the curses with a simple counter-curse Harry had taught him, as Harry turned to the remaining three Slytherins.

"As for you three, I'll need you to spread some rumours for tomorrow."

"This is bad," Hermione said as she, Ron, Ginny and Draco sat around the table in the common-room. They'd been sitting there for half an hour, and Hermione was the first to speak. Neville had been taken away to the hospital wing that morning; Ginny had been the one to find him. She was still sobbing quietly, leaned against her brother's side with his arm around her shoulder.

"I can't believe Harry would do something like that! And to Neville!" she uttered between the sobs, and Draco turned to her with a puzzled look across his face.

"But Harry didn't do that! That boy Marcus did!" he exclaimed, and Ginny's crying broke out again. It was a sign, Hermione had said, that Marcus had been left behind. It meant Harry was getting worse, now that he was beginning to sacrifice his own. He was getting much worse. She had started wondering if the Personovo Potion really could be behind all of this, since Harry was turning as bad as he was. She knew he hated Draco, and all, but he couldn't possibly think he was this cruel.

"Shut up, Draco," Ron said, and Draco obeyed, furrowing his brow slightly, "Ginny, don't cry... Hermione, give her Crookshanks."

"What?" Hermione said, looking sceptically at him, "Why?"

"So she can pet him and feel better, that's why!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron had always been pathetic at comforting people, but he was turning out to be even worse than Hermione had expected, in this case. She got up and looked around, she actually hadn't seen Crookshanks today. Suddenly, she was overcome with worry. They wouldn't have hurt Crookshanks, would they?

"Draco," she said, trying her best to stay calm, "Help me find Crookshanks."

Draco got up and smiled to her, before he started running around the room, looking for Crookshanks. Hermione chose a more calm approach, and started walking slowly around the room, softly calling out his name from time to time. Ron turned and looked at them for a while, but soon decided to turn back to Ginny.

"Neville's in hospital, and here they are, looking for a bloody cat!" he said and turned to Ginny, but this only contributed to her sobbing, "Oh, Ginny, don't cry. You know I don't like it when you..."

A scream cut him off in mid-sentence, and both he and Ginny turned around to see Hermione holding up something green with the word "Slytherin" written across its side in silver letters.

"Is that..." Ginny started, but Hermione was the one to finish.

"Crookshanks!"

Ron gaped, and Ginny did the same, as they both stood up and walked to her side. Hermione held the cat up in front of her, almost like she was afraid of touching him.

"Oh, Crookshanks, what have they done to you?" Hermione whimpered as she said it, but Ron could hardly fight the urge to laugh.

"They've...they've...shaved him! And they've...painted him green! And they've written Slytherin on him in silver!"

"We can see that, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, and now Ron couldn't fight the laughter.

"Hermione, we might as well re-name him Salazar!"

"It's not funny, Ron!" Hermione cried out, before she pushed the struggling Crookshanks into Draco's hands. Draco held him safely in his hands, however, and so Crookshanks settled down. Hermione ran out of the room and into the girls' dormitories. Ginny glared at Ron, who shrugged in return, before she ran after her, still sobbing quietly. Ron rolled his eyes, and turned back to Draco, who was petting the furless Crookshanks.

"Honestly, girls are so touchy."

"Actually, Ron," Draco answered, "you might have been a bit on the insensitive side, there. Just a tad, of course."

Ron studied Draco for a few moments, before he rolled his eyes and walked away, deciding to take a seat in a chair which was now covered in green and silver stripes. He picked up a book, which had also turned green with silver writing, and started reading. Meanwhile, Draco stood petting the hairless cat as he lay there quietly in his arms. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming urge... He held the cat up, but it was already so calm it didn't move. Slowly, he turned it around, and now the cat started struggling and squealed loudly. Finally, he let it go, and it fell towards the ground, fell, fell...but turned and landed on its feet, before it dove under the cupboard once more.

"Draco?" Ron asked, having watched the whole thing, "What are you doing?"

Suddenly, Draco jumped and met Ron's eyes, before he whimpered and covered his mouth with his hand.

"What have I done!" he shouted, before he ran out of the room and into the boys' dormitories. Ron was left alone in the common-room, staring at the door to the dormitory.

"Weird," he said after a little while, "Definitely weird."

Keegs had become a permanent part of Harry's inner circles, now, and followed him, Crabbe and Goyle everywhere on the day after the attack on Gryffindor House. Nott had decided to take a leave of absence, today, and was blaming it on illness. Of course, after a lengthy conversation with him, Keegs had found out that this illness was solely due to guilt over having to put the wand in Neville's hand and thus being an active part in hanging Marcus out to dry. Keegs was useful in that way, too, Harry had realized. Since people were too afraid of Harry to have civilized conversations with him, anymore, Keegs served as a connection to the other students. He couldn't trust Crabbe and Goyle to perform that task the way Harry wanted; those dim-witted fools would just make matters worse. And so, Keegs proved the perfect solution.

They walked through the halls, Harry first, with Keegs, Crabbe and Goyle following right behind. Harry yawned, and the three other boys watched him do it. They were all tired, but Harry was the only one who showed it. The other three were too disturbed by last night's incidents to behave tired. There had been rumours that Neville might die, that he was so wounded he wasn't going to make it. Of course, rumours weren't always true, and they should know that better than anyone, since they had been spreading rumours about the fourth year Marcus's crush on Parvati Patil, which had not been returned, and thus resulted in a fierce attack on Gryffindor House. People seemed to believe it. Harry had never doubted it; of course it worked! It was his idea! And now, he was safe. Sure, Dumbledore might point his bony finger at him, but he couldn't prove it. He never would.

"Keegs," Harry said as they walked, and he came quickly to his side, "I'll need you to have a little chat with that Marty boy once he gets back from Dumbledore's interrogations."

"It's Marcus, Harry."

"Marcus, Marty, whatever. The little nitwit's in Dumblebore's office, and I'd bet you a galleon he's trying to convince him it was all my doing."

"Rightfully so," Keegs interrupted, and Harry stopped walking. Crabbe and Goyle were almost too slow to catch it, and so they were inches away from crashing into him, but they just managed to stop, and take a step backwards. Keegs stood firm, his gaze never faltering as he stared Harry dead in the eyes.

"You would know, wouldn't you, since you were there? And as I recall it, I wasn't alone in blasting that Gryffindor boy halfway across the room," Harry replied, and Keegs looked away.

"Of course you weren't, Harry," he looked back at Harry again, his eyes meeting Harry's, "I'm on your side."

Harry paused for a moment as he stared into Keegs's eyes. After a while, he turned away and kept walking, immediately followed by the three others.

"Good. And keep making those witty remarks, Keegs," he said, "You're quite amusing, actually."

Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle exchanged relieved glances. There had been a time when all they wanted was to be Harry's number one companions, and now, they were happy Keegs had become his favourite. At least they didn't have to deal with his anger around the clock. They were the muscle, and Harry now treated them like the muscle, never expecting them to understand anything more complicated than their own names uttered in a strict tone-of-voice. Keegs was the brain, and had to endure Harry's overwhelming expectations. They had no interest in being in his shoes. Not anymore.

They had just rounded a corner and started down another hallway when they ran into three Gryffindors. Of course, they weren't just any three Gryffindors, they were Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. Both parties immediately stopped moving once they saw each other. A few seconds passed, in which nothing seemed to happen at all. Then, suddenly, Hermione rushed forth.

"You!" she shouted, and the hallway seemed to empty more with every step she took. When she reached him, there was no one but the seven of them left. Apparently, people hadn't believed the rumours as much as they pretended to, and so they didn't want to be around to see what was going to happen between him and Hermione.

"Yes, me," Harry replied, smirking at her.

"It was Neville! What could he possibly have done to you?"

Harry cocked a brow, staring blankly at her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Granger."

"Please, Harry, everyone knows it was you and not that silly Marcus boy who did it!"

Harry leaned forth, meeting her eye to eye.

"I was nowhere near Gryffindor House last night," he answered, still smirking at her.

"Prove it!" she exclaimed, and he stood up straight, again.

"Ask Pansy," they all saw it, how Harry glanced shortly in Ginny's direction when he said it, and all around him, the watchers were furrowing their brows. All except Ginny.

"Let's go," Harry finally said, and his three followers nodded, and followed him as he strode past the Gryffindors and into the next corridor. Keegs skipped quickly to his side, quickening his pace so he could keep up with him.

"That Granger girl gets on my nerves; she knows too much for her own good," Harry said to him as they walked, glaring angrily ahead, "If it wasn't for this incident with Longbottom, I'd shut her mouth," he walked a little longer after he'd said it, making room for a long pause, before he, as an afterthought, added: "Permanently."

...to be continued