Chapter Title: Chapter 10: Mothers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: HBP Spoiler
Summary: Harry and Ginny take a trip to St. Mungo's during which Harry finds out much more than he expected to. Later Harry presides over the first Quidditch game of the season and its aftermath, as well as the aftermath of something much more serious.
"Harry really, I could have done this on my own. Your students need you." Ginny sat down heavily in a rickety wooden chair next to her husband, glancing about nervously as lime-green robed wizards and witches bustled this way and that.
"My students have had plenty of me, and you've not had enough," Harry replied loyally. "Besides, with everything that happened yesterday, Minerva more than understood that I should have a day off. She actually suggested it before I got the chance to ask. Besides, this gives Mad-Eye the chance to scare the living daylights out of the kids again. He hasn't been able to do that for a while."
As Harry laughed, Ginny continued to glare at him. "You really shouldn't be taking advantage of the situation with that book just to get time off work," she admonished.
"You sound like Hermione," Harry groaned. "Why shouldn't I take advantage of it? It isn't my fault. Just because I'm using it for this doesn't mean I wouldn't have taken the day anyway. I may not have a good excuse in the future."
"Alright…" Ginny took his hand and looked into his pleading eyes. "I suppose you're right. I am glad you could come. Just promise me you won't frighten the Healers."
"And what makes you say something like that?"
"The fact that you can be very paranoid about these sorts of things. They're going to be nervous enough when they realize that they're examining the future child of 'The Chosen One.'"
Harry rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "You know, I never would have thought that the last person to let that one die would be my own wife."
"Well, I did rather like the term," Ginny smirked. "After all, I did 'choose' you," she chided, poking him in the middle of his forehead as though she were picking him out at a corner shop.
"You did no such thing. I believe I'm the one who proposed to you." Harry fiddled with her wedding ring as he held her hand.
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about when we started going out, back in school."
"I asked you out then too."
"Yeah, after I practically bowled you over." Ginny smiled at the bewildered look in Harry's eyes as he relived the memory. "I still can't believe I kissed you in front of everyone in Gryffindor."
"No, no, no my dear," Harry said as he returned to the present. "I think your memory must be clouded. I kissed you." Harry reached over to prod her head as she had just done to him but she was too quick and grabbed his finger with her other hand.
"Hands off or I'll—"
"Mrs.… Potter?"
The Healer standing before them might have laughed at the goofy looks on Harry and Ginny's faces, if she hadn't suddenly recognized just who it was that was wearing them. Her eyes grew wide, but she managed to stifle the gasp that so desperately wanted to escape her lips. Instead, she raised her eyebrows questioningly and waited for a response.
"Yes. I'm Ginny Potter."
"This way please," the Healer responded, quickly turning down the nearest corridor.
The healer was a short witch with straight, dark-brown hair, speckled lightly with gray and pulled up into a loose bun. Her glasses were small and square, and sat unmoving at the tip of her long nose. She walked ahead of Harry and Ginny, avoiding their gaze and consulting her clipboard in order to, Harry suspected, stall for a bit of composure before she had to speak to them again. Harry stretched his neck to peer over her shoulder nervously as they marched down the hall. Ginny walked calmly, beaming as she glanced from one room to the next.
"You'll have to forgive the slightly cramped conditions," their Healer said as she pulled open a door near the end of the hall. "Normally we wouldn't be in the main building but they're doing the yearly overhaul and scourgification of the maternity wing and we've had to relocate temporarily," she informed them as she nodded them inside. "Ah good. Nobody else is here. I believe you're the last appointment of the morning so we should have privacy."
She magically locked the door behind them and indicated a pair of folding chairs sitting opposite a metal stool. Ginny perched herself comfortably on one chair as Harry wandered around, examining every inch of the room. It was long and narrow. Behind the folding chairs sat a small examination table and two stands containing an odd assortment of magical objects. Off to one side was a set of movable curtains similar to the ones Madam Pomfrey used in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. This setup had been repeated three more times along the length of the room and Harry was grateful that they were indeed alone.
"Harry, don't you want to sit down?" Ginny reached for him as he turned slowly, finishing his survey.
"I'm fine," he said absently, squeezing her hand.
"My name is Noreen Middleton," the Healer began. "I'll be taking you through the pregnancy process until your final month, and then you'll be working with a birthing specialist for the remainder. I have just a few questions before we begin the exam, but before we do that, do you have any questions of me?
"No, I don't think so. It's our first so I don't really know where to begin," Ginny said, a hint of apprehension betraying the cool demeanor she had been holding since they had arrived. Harry, who was now standing behind Ginny with his hands on her shoulders, held no calmness whatsoever.
"That's perfectly understandable," Noreen said kindly. "The questions will come to you as things progress."
Noreen seemed to have found her groove, assisted in no small part by the fact that she had not looked Harry in the eye once since they had sat down. Harry, however, was still a bit skittish, and hadn't noticed. After pausing for any questions from Ginny, Noreen flipped a page on her clipboard and readied her quill.
"When did you discover you were pregnant?"
"A week ago tomorrow," Ginny said calmly.
"A week?" Harry gaped at Ginny. "You kept this from me for a week?"
"Well, I wanted to be sure. I did the test potion, but it is a finicky one and they're not always reliable. Stop looking at me like that Harry. If it's any consolation, I had been planning on waiting until after this first exam, but I just couldn't wait any longer to tell you. When I got up yesterday I was so sure, I almost ran down and interrupted your class."
"That's fine and everything but…" Harry scratched his head absently. He began pacing in the small space between Ginny's chair and the examination table and his hand brushed against a strange object on one of the instrument stands. He recoiled his arm quickly, staring nervously at a metal ball slightly larger than a golden snitch, and looking affronted as if it had reached out and grabbed him. "You kept this from me for a week?" he said again.
"Get over it. And stop interrupting. We'll be here all day," Ginny said without turning around.
"So you tested positive with the maternity potion last Friday?" the Healer continued, taking down brief notes. "Where did you buy the potion?"
"Oh, I didn't buy it. I made it."
"You made it?" Healer Middleton looked shocked.
"Yes, I'm in my second year at the medical academy. I just finished Intermediate Medicinal Potions last spring."
"Oh, I see," Noreen's quill ticked down another note. "So you probably knew to bring in a sample."
"I did." Ginny retrieved a small vial from her pocket. The fluid inside was a deep, cloudy pink.
"Pink. Does that mean…?" Harry looked curiously at the vial and squeezed Ginny's shoulder anxiously.
"No, it doesn't tell gender. Pink simply indicates a positive result," said Noreen, tilting the vial from side to side and peering at the fluid inside.
"Oh." Harry bit his lip thoughtfully and looked at the floor.
"If you want to know the sex of your baby there is a simple test we can do."
Harry looked curiously down at Ginny. "Do you?"
"I kind of wanted it to be a surprise," Ginny said timidly.
"I thought you'd say that. If that's what you'd like, I think that's a good idea," Harry looked away.
"Do you really?" Ginny said, reaching up and patting his hand on her shoulder, helping it to relax, "Or are you just saying that because I said it's what I wanted?" She pulled him over to her side so she could look at him, searching his bright green eyes with mild concern.
"It's okay. We'll wait. It'll be a nice surprise." Harry said resolutely. Ginny looked as though she still didn't believe him, but she seemed to decide it would be absurd to continue this argument, with her taking Harry's side and Harry conceding hers. Noreen waited for just a moment in the slightly strained silence. It was obvious she had heard this conversation hundreds of times and she waited patiently for Ginny's eyes to meet hers before she continued.
"Do you have an approximate idea of when you conceived?"
"I'd only be guessing. It could have been any day." Ginny raised a mischievous eyebrow at Harry.
"Ginny!" Harry whispered. His face went pink with embarrassment and his green eyes flashed dangerously. Noreen smiled knowingly and moved on.
"Well then," said their Healer, rising. "I think we can get on with the examination. If you'll just hop up on the table there, I'll just… I'm sorry, I meant…"
"Harry what are you doing?"
"I meant for Mrs. Potter to use the table," said Noreen, trying hard not to laugh as she looked at a still very nervous and flustered Harry, who was now sitting on one edge of the exam table.
"Harry, maybe you'd feel better waiting outside," Ginny smirked at her bewildered husband. "This shouldn't take long, should it?"
"About five minutes," Noreen answered. "There are some nice chairs just outside the door. We'll be right out Mr. Potter."
Harry slid silkily off of the table, as though hoping nobody would notice he'd been up there, and walked over to Ginny. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" he asked, leaning his forehead against hers.
"At the moment I'm more worried about you." Ginny smiled warmly and took his hands. "I'll be fine. Go get yourself some tea or something."
Harry went out into the hall with great reluctance. He would much rather have stayed, but he found it impossible to deny the pleading look in Ginny's eyes. She was right. He was being stupid and making her more nervous with his own anxiety. He walked slowly towards a set of cushioned chairs set along the opposite wall a few feet down the hall, but he did not sit. Even outside of the room he was simply too nervous. Instead he made quite a project out of examining each of the portraits along their section of the hallway, yet managed to do so without really looking at them. He was gazing absently at a picture of a middle-aged witch in an emerald green shawl who was placing a tattered looking book on a shelf, tapping it with her wand, and staring nervously at Harry. Suddenly, Harry jumped as a pair of wizards in lime-green robes came bursting through a nearby door.
"I'm telling you I really think it'll work this time," said a rather excited healer with wavy, light-brown hair. "I've been researching it for years and I've finally found out the element I need to fix the potion. If this works it'll cut the mortality rate of Dragon Pox in half."
"But where did you find it?" said the other, a shorter man with balding black hair and a slight limp that kept them from walking as fast as the taller wizard seemed to want to go. "I've been searching for that cure for ages."
"Nadine got it from an old book at the ministry. We've been trying to get a hold of it for years, but apparently they'd misplaced it."
Harry's ears perked up and he stared after the two men. In the excitement following the previous evening's dinner, he had forgotten all about the top-secret book and the investigation that was looming over his head like a silent predator. He got a sudden feeling he had seen the taller man somewhere before but he couldn't place it. He wracked his brain as their voices faded into the distance.
"Excuse me!" Harry yelled as his eyes popped open in realization. He ran after the two healers retreating backs, yelling for them. "Excuse me," he said again as he reached them. They had stopped and were now staring curiously at Harry as though he were sprouting tentacles from his head. It was another split second before the short, balding wizard gasped softly and pointed at Harry's scarred forehead. Before the man could say anything, Harry turned to the tall wavy-haired man and said, "Are you by any chance related to Nadine Simmons?"
The wheels in the healer's head were working very hard now. Slowly he seemed to piece everything together and he examined Harry with restrained curiosity. "Yes, Nadine is my wife. You obviously know her from the Auror office. I should have known. I am Robert." He shook Harry's hand firmly. "Of course, I know who you are Mr. Potter, or should I say 'Professor'? You've given my son Eric a bit of a hard time these past two months."
Harry looked down for a moment, not sure of how to respond. "I'm sorry if… if I've been a bit harsh, Mr. Simmons," Harry stammered, "but I… I must maintain a sense of—"
"As far as I've seen, he deserved every bit of it." Mr. Simmons clapped Harry genially on the shoulder and smiled. "I'm glad he finally has a head of house who won't put up with his shenanigans. Good job."
"Um… Thank you sir," Harry said with a sudden sense of relief.
"Would you listen to that?" Mr. Simmons said to the still star-struck healer standing next to him. "He really is as polite as everyone says he is. Please, you can call me Robert. And this is my associate, Mr. Reginald Simonson." The balding man offered his hand weakly and Harry gripped it gently, feeling slightly awkward.
"Simmons and Simonson?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow?
"I know, wild isn't it. We should open up a private practice," Robert said with a hearty chuckle. "Is it all right if I call you Harry? Or would you prefer Professor? I know some teachers like parents to keep up that formality for the sake of their students."
"Um, Harry's fine outside of the school I guess."
"Jolly good. Now, was there something you wanted Harry?" Robert said, tilting his head forward and narrowing his eyes. Harry was struck by how lively and animated Robert's face was and almost laughed at the resemblance to his son.
"Oh yeah. I'm sorry," Harry looked at the floor again. "I couldn't help overhearing the conversation you were having when you walked past me earlier. You were talking about a book that Nadine found at the Ministry." Harry paused briefly, slipping into Auror mode, carefully thinking out the best way to word the next question. He didn't want to compromise the man's objectivity by giving something away. "Do you know which book it was?" He asked evasively.
Robert thought for a moment, massaging his chin as he pondered. "Nadine said it was a very strange, top-secret book. That's why she wasn't able to bring it home, she just copied out the passages I needed. I didn't catch the name of the book."
"I see," Harry said darkly, trying to hide his reaction to this promising fact, and putting on a face that suggested disappointment. "You mentioned that you'd been trying to get a hold of it for a while."
"Yeah, I heard about it from a colleague who had been developing a similar potion before he passed away. That was about six years ago. Nadine thought she remembered the book he'd been referring to and went to find it at the ministry. She found where it was supposed to be, but it wasn't there."
"And this was six years ago?" Harry was thinking very quickly now.
"Let's see…" Mr. Simmons thought out loud, counting on his fingers and staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, just about six years give or take a month or two. I'll bet you were still in school back then."
"Yeah, I was," said Harry, his mind racing and excitement growing. If he was counting right, that book had been missing back when he was in his last year at Hogwarts. If that were the case, it was well before he had taken his post with the ministry three years later. He couldn't possibly have stolen a book that was already missing.
"Is there anything wrong?" Mr. Simmons said after a moment of prolonged silence.
"Oh, uh…" Harry snapped out of his trance. "No. Everything's fine. Mr. Simmons… Robert, Thank you for your time. I should let you get back to work."
"Thanks for stopping by Harry. It was really great to meet you. Do let me know if any of my kids give you any more trouble."
"Yeah, about that. I know Eric probably thinks I'm picking on him. I hope you can understand that I don't—"
"Harry. I've already told you not to worry about it. Eric needs to be put in his place every now and then. He's just at a difficult stage right now. Don't let up on him. He'll get over it. I trust you. Believe me, some day you'll have kids of your own and you'll know exactly where I'm coming from."
"Yeah, some day," Harry laughed and glanced down the hallway to see Ginny sticking her head out the door, looking for him. "Thank you again. I'd better get going. Have a good day."
"And you as well." They shook hands again and Harry trotted down the hall. All traces of anxiety had left him now. Ginny stared inquisitively at him as he leaned down to kiss her, grinning from ear to ear.
"That is quite a discovery Harry."
Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and began pacing, just as Harry had been doing since his arrival. Ginny sat comfortably, but anxiously in one of the Headmistress' cushy, blue armchairs. The past hour was a complete blur. Harry had been so excited when he was telling Ginny that she had to make him stop and repeat himself several times. Then, they had practically run up the stairs to the stone Gargoyle after flooing into the fireplace in Harry's office. All of this took practically no time at all; the rest of that hour had been spent explaining what had happened at the hospital.
"Well, aren't you glad I kicked you out of the room now?" Ginny asked smugly.
"Yeah…" Harry said breathlessly. "This couldn't be a better example of being in the right place at the right time. If I hadn't been there, it might have taken ages to discover this."
"I do wonder, though, why Nadine Simmons didn't report the book missing in the first place," Professor McGonagall mused. "I never completely trusted her, to be perfectly honest. I don't think she would ever have fallen to the dark side, but she wasn't always completely with it. A bit of a flake, really."
"That's the impression I got too." Harry said, still pacing, deep in thought. "Well, it's not the first book to go missing, by any stretch of the imagination. I suppose she just figured it was gone for a reason. Still, with such a volatile book, and she knew it was, especially at that time she really should have erred on the side of caution, and reported it. For all she knew, Voldemort could have stolen it, or had it stolen for him."
"But, of course, we know now that he hadn't." Professor McGonagall sat, thoughtfully. "Which brings us to the other unsolved part of this mystery. Who did steal it? And, even more mysterious, how did it end up in the possession of Emily Vance?"
"Wouldn't she say where she got it?" Harry asked, frustration crackling in his voice.
"I told you before," McGonagall responded tartly. "I am not privy to the findings of the Ministry's interview with her." Harry groaned. "However, I seriously doubt she would have told them, when she wouldn't even tell me."
"Tell you?"
"Yes. I questioned her myself while we waited for the Ministry delegation to arrive. She flatly refused. She just kept saying she had found it somewhere and that she didn't remember where."
"Was she lying?" Harry said darkly.
Minerva paused for a moment before answering. "I am inclined to say yes. I didn't see any evidence of foul play. Her memory seemed very much intact and she was quite lucid, so I don't think it was the result of a memory charm. Honestly, I'm not sure what she's hiding. I assured her over and over that she wasn't going to be punished. She obviously had no idea of the significance of that book. She's too smart to sit in the middle of the Three Broomsticks in broad daylight with a Top-Secret book that's been missing from the ministry for years, unless she didn't know it was. Yes. I believe she was lying. I have no idea why."
"I'll see what I can find out," said Harry, coming to a halt beside Ginny. "I'll talk to Nadine Simmons and see if she knows anything. Maybe there's something she didn't tell her husband."
"I understand you want to clear this whole thing up, and clear your name Harry, but you don't work at the Ministry anymore. Let them do their job. I'll pass on what you have told me. I'm sure they'll have a talk with both Nadine and Robert. They'll feel a lot better to finally have a solid lead. And I don't think they'll quickly forget who got it for them." She nodded confidently, adjusting her glasses.
"Thank you Minerva," Harry said with a sigh. "I really do appreciate your support on this. I hope you know that."
"You are very welcome Harry. You have always proven to be trustworthy, and you've had enough experiences that I trust your judgment explicitly. That being said, I have one other concern."
"Yes?" Harry said, looking curiously at her. He was quite sure he had covered every single angle of the issue in their long conversation.
"I had been under the impression that you took my offer for a day off so you could rest and take your mind off of these things. Of course, as is now apparent, you did neither." She glared over her glasses for a moment. "That is all fine. What you do for your own health is none of my concern. I must ask, however, what you were doing at St. Mungo's in the first place."
Harry felt as though a lead weight had settled into his stomach. In his rush to pass on the news, he had completely forgotten that, were he not on leave today, he would be in class at this very moment. Suddenly realizing how bad this all looked, he sank into the chair beside Ginny and buried his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry Minerva. I didn't mean to mislead you. I know this doesn't look good."
"Harry, I just finished telling you how much I trust your judgment. I'm confident you wouldn't have left without a good reason. I am simply curious as to what that reason is."
"Oh, right. I almost forgot. Um…" Harry, his nervousness returning, fiddled with his glasses and stared at his shoes. "I was there with Ginny to uh… We were uh…"
"I went for my first maternal checkup," Ginny blurted when it became obvious that Harry wasn't about to spit it out.
"Ginny!" McGonagall practically knocked her chair over as she stood up and raced around her desk to smother Ginny in a hug. Harry was impressed at how well she moved at her age and laughed when Ginny blanched under the Headmistress's tight embrace. "That's wonderful. Oh, I'm so happy for both of you." And Harry experienced her bone-crushing chokehold for himself.
"What makes you think it's mine?" Harry said when she released him.
"What…?" McGonagall looked scandalized and turned to face Ginny just as her fist collided with Harry's shoulder.
"Harry likes his little jokes."
"Ouch. Do you always have to do that so hard?" Harry rubbed his sore arm and pouted in his chair. Ginny and Minerva laughed heartily.
"Well, this is wonderful. It's going to be a beautiful child."
"Well… Yeah" Harry said emphatically as he tugged on Ginny's chin. "I mean… look at her, just… look at her." McGonagall laughed again as Ginny swatted Harry's hands away.
"You know Ginny," said Minerva, sitting down again, "I had a feeling I might be hearing this announcement soon. When you missed the deadline to register for winter term at the academy I thought, 'maybe'…"
"So you figured that out did you?" Ginny said, glowering at Harry. "It took this genius two weeks to get that hint."
"You know me. I don't do hints." Harry smiled stupidly and kissed her cheek. "It's not like you need to. You know I'm a sucker who'll do whatever you ask me to."
Ginny smiled at Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows and holding up her pinky while pointing from it to Harry. Minerva just laughed and smiled broadly at the glowing couple sitting opposite her.
"You know Ginny," Harry said standing up, "since we have the day free we may as well use what's left of it. Let's say you and I drop in and give your mum a belated birthday present."
"Harry, that's a great idea. She'll never expect it. Oh this is going to be fun." Ginny bounced out of her chair and hugged Minerva again as she showed them both to the door. "And while we're down there, we may as well pop over and say hi to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione."
"Oh wow," Harry said, pausing to contemplate the gravity of what Ginny had just said. "Minerva? You wouldn't have any spare Draught of Peace would you?" Harry asked as they stood in the doorway.
"Fresh out. Why?"
"Because Ginny and I are about to embark on a suicide quest to deliver earth-shattering news to the three most reactionary people I know. I just thought a little stress reliever might come in handy."
"That may well be true," McGonagall responded with a chuckle. "Alas, I have none. I trust you'll manage without it."
And with that she bade them a happy farewell. Harry and Ginny were talking animatedly all the way down the stairs. As they turned the seventh floor landing, Harry was nearly knocked over as a mass of black robes and blonde hair slammed into him. In the ensuing ruckus, both Harry and his assailant spun several times, trying hard not to topple over. Finally Ginny intervened and righted both of them.
"Thanks," said a familiar voice.
"You're welcome," said Ginny.
"I'm really sorry Professor. I wasn't watching where I was going."
Harry's heart skipped a beat as a pair of sapphire blue eyes flashed his way and quickly looked down at the floor. "N- neither was I. I'm sorry Miss Vance. I…" Harry didn't know what was happening. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. Something deep within him was screaming at him to stay away from her, like she was some kind of disease. Harry realized how irrational these thoughts were, but he couldn't quell them. By his observations Emily was enduring a similar sensation. Ginny looked from Emily to Harry and decided that she needed to break the silence.
"Hi, we've never met. I'm Ginny Potter." Ginny extended a hand to Emily who shook it gingerly.
"P- pleased to meet you." There was fear in her eyes as she chanced another look at Harry. Without saying another word, Emily gathered her bag and raced down the corridor to the portrait of the fat lady.
"Harry?" Ginny kneeled down and looked up into Harry's stone-cold eyes. "What's wrong?"
"I dunno. I had no idea this would happen," Harry said darkly. "I've never felt like this." He looked into her big brown eyes and felt some of the sensation return to his midsection. "It's like I'm terrified of her."
"Come on, let's get you to bed. We can tell mum another time."
"No. No, I'll be alright." Harry leaned heavily on the banister. "I just need a minute, and after that, I'll need a good distraction."
Harry was in decidedly better spirits when he and Ginny returned late that evening, having spent the afternoon at the Burrow and the rest of the evening with Ron and Hermione in Godric's Hollow. He was grateful that Ginny had not mentioned their encounter with Emily. Occasionally he caught her watching his gaze warily, fully aware that his mind did bounce back to it every few minutes, but she said nothing. The day had been so full of events, it felt to Harry as if the hospital visit of that morning had been a week ago. Before he knew it he was asleep.
It was the first time since September 2nd that Harry had really dreaded going to his classes. After the encounter with Emily the previous afternoon, he wasn't sure how he would react in front of his students. By some divine grace, he seemed to find his routine rather quickly and, as the day progressed, he had completely forgotten about his dark mood. The entire student body was wired and excited for the following day's Quidditch opener between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and their excitement was contagious to the Quidditch-loving Harry.
His last class of the day, with the seventh-year N.E.W.T. students, was more like a well-structured party than a lesson. Otis Crawford, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, caused a great ruckus by bringing along his favorite beater's bat. Harry kept the class on their toes by occasionally throwing hexes at them from behind his desk as they "studied" their reading for the day. Harry felt it was perfectly fair to go easy on this class the day before the match, since students from each house were in it. "Just be sure to have that read by next time. And remember to leave yourself time to practice your Patronus. If you aren't up to snuff I'll have to bring a dementor in here for practice, and trust me you don't want that."
"He's kidding right," Harry heard one rather nervous looking Hufflepuff saying as they left the class and joined the school-wide cacophony of raucous jubilee that had ensued in honor of the weekend match.
It was the shortest Quidditch match Harry had witnessed in all of his years at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor seeker, a boy named Clarence White, was nothing remarkable, Harry thought. For a third-year, he seemed a bit large to be a seeker and was not particularly agile on the broom. He made up for this with lightning fast reflexes and he could spot the snitch with surprising ease. On several occasions he went pelting after it, and even Harry's trained eye didn't see the snitch until halfway through the chase, which usually ended abruptly when the snitch changed course, and started again a split second later. If the snitch moved in straight lines more often, Harry thought, Clarence would have caught it much sooner.
The Slytherin team was embarrassingly weak. Harry couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction in the fact that Snape's once prized, and highly competitive team, had fallen so far so fast. Within five minutes the Gryffindor Chasers had racked up a score of 170 to Slytherin's 10 (a goal that seemed to surprise the Slytherins more than anyone else). Harry was quite impressed with the team Otis had put together. The chasers were very good and extremely well coordinated for this time of the year, especially with two new recruits to train. The Gryffindor team was stunned when Harry awarded two penalty shots in quick succession to the Slytherin team for what seemed like very minor contact.
"Come on Professor, this is Quidditch, not Gobstones. It's supposed to be physical," said Otis as they hung back and watched a miniscule third-year chaser lobbing a particularly pathetic shot that wouldn't have gone through a hoop even if the Gryffindor Keeper hadn't caught it.
"Those were both very rude fouls," Harry responded, temporarily blurring the line between his roles as Head of House and referee. Outside this one instance, Harry was determined to remain impartial. "I don't want my team gloating. Keep it clean."
To everyone's surprise, it was the Slytherin Seeker (a lanky 5th year, who seemed to enjoy his role because it allowed him to sit still and do nothing for most of the match) who got the first real chance at catching the snitch, pelting around the edge of the stadium, closing in on the golden, winged walnut. Fortunately for Gryffindor, the snitch took a favorable turn and headed straight at Clarence. Most people wouldn't have had time to react, but Clarence's hand was instantly a blur as it reached up with lightning fast speed and accuracy, snatching the snitch from the air with a holler of victory. He turned out of the way just in time to avoid a head on collision with the very bewildered Slytherin Seeker.
If the match had been less than challenging for the Gryffindor team, you never would have known from the celebration that ensued, which rivaled any of the parties Fred and George threw in their day. It was a thoroughly frustrated Harry that, for the third time that night, entered the common room to shoo everyone to bed. "You've got exactly twenty seconds to get upstairs if you want to keep a single one of the points you've earned so far this year!" he bellowed. Having had a particularly good start to the year in the race for the House Cup, this got their attention very quickly. Harry wasn't sure how so many people managed to cram themselves through the two staircase doors so quickly, but he was so tired he didn't care.
As the portrait closed behind him, he rubbed his eyes and started for the staircase, longing for his warm bed. He almost didn't hear the sob that echoed down the opposite corridor. Turning, he saw a short silhouette approaching.
"Who's that there? Lumos." Harry's wand lit up to reveal the red and tear streaked face of Emily Vance. His stomach churned and he felt that same burning, screaming fear that had overwhelmed him the previous Thursday. It must have been the heart-wrenching look on her face that broke through this strange emotion. "What are you doing out at this time of night? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she choked through a cracked voice, and turned for the portrait of the fat lady.
Harry wasn't completely aware of what he was saying. Somehow, that same screaming voice from within him had changed and now pleaded with him to help her. "This doesn't look like nothing. Come now, we'll have a cup of hot chocolate and talk. I have no idea what you've been through these past few days, but I can see enough to know you'll never feel better if you just keep it all bottled up inside. You said you'd like someone to talk to sometime. You may not realize it but this is one of those times. Come on. You'll never get to sleep in this state anyway."
Without a word, she followed solemnly behind him as he led the way down the stairs. She hesitated for a moment when he bypassed the first floor and the familiar path to his office, but followed automatically as he made his way down the stairs. She didn't even notice as Harry stopped in front of a painting of a bowl of fruit, tickled the pear, and pulled open the door to the Hogwarts Kitchens.
"I thought we'd do better with some neutral ground." Harry walked over to a corner where a few mismatched wooden chairs sat near a scrubbed wooden table. "Excuse me," he addressed a passing house-elf, "Do you have any hot chocolate made up by any chance."
"Yes sir, Professor. We keeps a pot ready at all times." And the elf scurried off to another corner. Seconds later a cloth had been spread on the table and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate sat there, along with a plate of biscuits and pastries, and a very discreetly deposited handkerchief.
Harry waited patiently as Emily dabbed at her eyes and held her hands around the warm mug. Finally she took a tentative sip and the dull cloud that hung around her head seemed to lighten slightly. "I'm so sorry Professor. I don't know what they've told you. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Her lower lip began to tremble again and she looked away.
"Emily," Harry said softly, "I want you to know that you can stop talking at any time. But I want you to try. Trust me, you'll feel better. What's wrong?"
"I'm just so scared," she sobbed loudly.
"What are you scared for?"
"My mother."