Chapter 40: A Gryffindor Quest

Hermione opened the quest door.

Last chance to turn back, said Slytherin. We can make an excuse about needing to complete our research, which is true. If nothing else, ask her to come with you, play up your mad side and pull a Doc Brown.

"Well, don't just stand there," said Hermione, smiling at Harry. "Come on, it's time to go."

She tugged on his arm, and he only resisted a moment before he followed her.

You idiot, sighed Slytherin. If the whole point was to confess your feelings, then why bother?

I agree, said Science. We should turn back. This doesn't feel right.

What? said Hufflepuff. But you said—

It's different now, said Science. This quest feels like a bad idea. If you're going in, I'm not sure I can keep you safe. But…yeah, you're not going to listen are you? Not even if I told you the roof would cave in.

Harry grit his teeth, silencing the voices. The worst part was, he knew this went against every rational belief he had. He was wilfully acting on an incorrect analysis, and not only was he refusing to update his choice based on better information, he was doing it out of spite. And yet, even if it was a mortal sin against rationality, he still couldn't let Hermione go on this quest without him.

The three of them travelled down the narrow corridor, Hermione sandwiched between Harry and Dean. If it had been him and Hermione it would have been cosy, but with Dean it was awkward and cramped.

"Why is it so dark in here?" Dean asked, squinting.

A few seconds later, Dean's wand illuminated. Harry—who already had his wand out—resisted the petty dig of making his wand light slightly brighter. He might be breaking the rules here, but he still had standards.

Entering a cavern, the three of them examined the walls for quest doors. Harry found one, a Slytherin door, and sighed internally. It would be a cold day somewhere very hot before he got to do one of these again.

"Hey guys, I think I found something," said Dean, illuminating a set of stones along the wall.

"That's a doorway," said Hermione. "We have to figure out how to get inside. Usually, we solve a riddle, or find a hidden key."

"Hmm…" Dean stepped back, examining the woodwork. "Strange question, but umm…can I kick it down?"

Hermione blinked. "I've never tried that, but go ahead."

Dean grinned, hopping like a boxer. He slammed his shoulder against the door, then kicked it, shouting "Hiyah!" The door illuminated a bright red.

"Alright, a Gryffindor quest!" shouted Dean, arms raised in triumph.

"Yay!" Hermione cried, and they high fived each other.

Harry just looked at them, then stared forlornly at the Slytherin door.

For some reason, those lights were blinking green too.

"Hey, umm, guys—" Harry started.

But they were already walking inside their quest door, clearly too excited to care. Harry's brain itched with the desire to investigate, but the red door was already closing. With one last glance back, Harry followed them.


As the quest progressed, Harry was 70% sure that Hermione had been placed in the wrong house. A Ravenclaw's colour was blue, indicating a calm, reflective spirit.

"Mwahahaha!" cried Hermione, using her crossbow to spear another Inferi through the eye. "That's twenty-six for me! Come on, boys, get it together!"

Harry wiped sweat from his forehead, wincing at a spasm of pain in his shoulder. He and Dean were surrounded by a lake of molten lava. While the two mortals were struggling to breathe in the overheated air, Hermione was swinging from her transfigured, glowing rope, sniping at the enemy from above.

"Ha ha! That's twenty-seeeevvven!"

Harry swung at an Inferi approaching their outpost—a short outcropping of rock near the town—and then gasped as the recoil on his hammer further damaged his arm. Dean struggled to dispatch his Inferi with his axe, bringing his count up to nine.

Harry grit his teeth, cast a healing spell, willing his muscles to take the hint already. He'd practiced this skill this for weeks, and yet he was struggling like a novice. He knew it shouldn't be taking this long. Come on…

Finally, on the next swing, it didn't hurt. The next, he cracked the Inferi's head open, and on the third he was doing it one handed.

Harry grinned. There we go.

"Woah," asked Dean, panting. "How'd you…do that?"

Harry swung at another Inferi, its brains splattering all over the ground. "Practice."

"Really?" asked Dean. "Any tips? I'm struggling here, man."

Harry watched as Dean's legs buckled, frantically shoving an Inferi into the lava. Dean stumbled back onto land, wiping the blood off his face, his axe hanging down by his side.

Harry raised his hammer easily, considering what to do. The secret to Harry's success was a melee weapon spell. The cheat wasn't completely broken—you still had to devote some time to practice—but the combat skill transferred much faster to muscle memory than it would normally. Basically, it set mastery from "hard" mode to "easy."

A few months ago, Harry spent four weeks practicing several techniques using this spell—shooting and throwing accuracy, fist fighting, and using blunt force objects. It was agonizing at first, but all that preparation was finally paying off. He assumed the only reason most Wizards didn't learn it was because they fought using wands, but one quick expelliarmus and you were done. Harry figured there was no reason not to be prepared.

However, as his performance today showed, perhaps gaining the ability quickly also meant losing it quickly. He didn't have time to practice every combat skill consistently, and rarely had use for them all, so he reasoned he ought to stick to practicing and mastering one skill, like archery. Shooting arrows with deadeye accuracy while flying sounded both useful and badass.

After considering what to do about Dean, Harry reached down and picked up Dean's axe. "Just stay behind me for now, okay?"

With two weapons, Harry could do twice the damage. Scanning the horizon, Harry found his target. Grinning, Harry hurled the axe at an Inferi that Hermione was aiming for. The weapon smashed its head in, then Harry cast Accio to call it back.

She glowered at him, and he just waved at her. Hermione rolled her eyes and swung away, her frazzled hair streaming in the wind.

When the round was over, Hermione landed on their peninsula—almost an island now—which was surrounded by lava. She'd shed her uniform jacket, and he couldn't help but notice that the sweat made her dress cling to her skin, in what he assumed would be the first of many Dangerous Thoughts.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione. "Why do you have Dean's weapon and yours?"

Harry looked down, trying to find a way to spin this.

"I was flagging and he took over for me," said Dean. "Harry's insane in a fight. I mean, I've seen him duel, but never like that."

"I noticed," said Hermione, giving Harry a once over. "How'd you do it?"

"Practice," repeated Harry, grinning.

She walked up to him, and his grin melted into a kind of fear. She was getting awfully close.

Their eyes met as she examined him. "Is it a spell? A trinket? Let me see."

"Not telling." In response to her glare, he raised his eyebrows. "You know, I don't just munchkin solutions off the top of my head. I spent a lot of time researching this. If you want to know, try and figure it out for yourself."

She smirked. "You know what, I think I will. Spread your cloak, Harry."

Some part of Harry's brain stopped working. Rationally, he knew she wasn't flirting…but he didn't move to stop her when she slipped her hand around the area of his waist. At least, not until he felt a tight rope snagging his right arm.

"Owww!" he cried, as she yanked both the hammer and axe from his hands. She laughed and danced away, while Harry cradled his throbbing arm. "That hurt, Hermione!"

"Oh, relax, the rope will dissolve in an hour or so."

"What!" cried Harry, then swore as he took out his wand to try and fix the mess she'd made of him. Glowing rope laced his wrist, pinning it to his chest. "Hermione, I can't move my arm!"

"Yes, well, this game is too unbalanced," declared Hermione, setting his hammer to the side. "You're a veteran of these quests, but you didn't even bother to help Dean. You just took his weapon and did all his fighting for him."

"So you hobble the best player?" cried Harry. "How is that helpful?"

"We have to slow ourselves down," she said. "I'll admit, I'm guilty of this too. If we're playing at our usual level, the game will rise to match our strengths and leave Dean in the dust."

"Oh no, it's fine!" said Dean, waving his hands. "I'll get the hang of things, you don't have to slow down for me."

Lava collapsed another rock formation as Hermione smiled, holding out the axe for him. "Dean, I know you'll pick things up soon, just let us help you get there."

"Really, it's okay," said Dean, laughing nervously. "I don't care about winning, I just want to kill zombies." She continued her pointed, terribly helpful stare, and his smile faded. "Seriously, Hermione. I can't—"

All of a sudden, a section of dirt under Hermione's feet caved in, creating a molten pothole. She sprang back, and the axe went flying, landing in the lake of lava.

"Oh darn it—" said Hermione.

"Look out!" cried Dean, as a burning Inferi climbed out of the water right next to Hermione. He grabbed the hammer and swung at it, but it dodged and tried to clip him from behind. Another Inferi came out of the lava, wielding the now molten axe.

"So this is level 2," said Harry, drawing out his wand. "Looks like the next wave of Inferi is smarter and fire resistant." Harry fired off a striking hex that barely grazed it. "Not to mention magic resistant. How about that counterspell, Hermione?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Umm, well I never had to use it before, so-"

"Hmm. Are you saying you don't remember?" he drawled. "That's a first." Harry pulled out his pouch. He needed a weapon, something he could fire one-handed. He was trying to decide if he was furious with Hermione or a little amused that she thought a one-handed Harry made them all equivalent.

The hordes of Inferi were approaching, growing louder and louder. Hermione raised her bow, firing off shots, and Harry was desperate to get his hands on a weapon of any kind…

All at once, the red soaked world around them disappeared. The darkness cooled them, and then kept growing colder until it felt like they were stuck in a dark freezer. Light returned to the sky in the form of a pale moon, and their sweat soaked bodies shivered in the snow around them.

No…not snow. Harry nudged it with his boot. Shaved ice.

"Where are we? asked Dean, rubbing his arms against the cold.

"No idea," said Harry, shrugging out the kinks in his shoulders. It looked like his arm was unbound, at least.

"Look up there!" cried Hermione, pointing towards the mountain.

Harry looked up to see a cheerful little winter town, complete with a candy cane drawbridge and gingerbread houses.

What in the what?

A jingling, blue blob waddled towards them, the tuft of hair on its head bobbing as he moved. Harry assumed it was supposed to be cute, but he couldn't help thinking of science experiments gone wrong. "Oh, hello!" said the blob, his body billowing with each movement. "I can see you are newcomers! Welcome, welcome!"

"Aww!" said Hermione. "Nice to meet you! What's your name?"

"Blueberry," said the blob, with a solemn eye blink. "What's yours?"

Hermione and Dean introduced themselves, and Harry gave the blob his pseudonym. "My name is Bill." Hermione raised her eyebrows, but he just shrugged. The power of knowing someone's name in the magical world was mind boggling. It made it ten times easier to hex someone. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but if he was going down, it wouldn't be because a piece of misshapen fruit got the jump on him.

After they'd all introduced themselves, Hermione sneezed, and the creature gasped.

"Oh dear, you must be so cold," cried Blueberry, his high voice rising to a squeak. "I will take you to get new clothing too!"


Shopping at the "Candy Crush Boutique" took Harry less than 5 minutes. All of the clothes were neatly laid out on labelled shelves, and it was easy to find the correct size and style that was needed. Harry chose wool clothing that would keep him warm and comfortable, with layers to shed in case they faced lava again. It didn't cost him anything except a compliment to the store clerk (the marvel of game economics), and then he was given a free hot cocoa.

In Harry's opinion, that concluded shopping time. The store was quaint but wasn't worth hanging around in. However, his team mates didn't seem in a rush to leave, especially after they discovered the shop's Holiday Costume Section. Even though Harry explained that they wouldn't be able to keep the items out of game, that didn't stop Dean and Hermione from trying on absolutely everything.

Dean stepped out of the changing room, posing in a reindeer costume, complete with horns. "What's the verdict, amigos?"

"Ooohh, you look dashing!" Hermione said.

"Ehh, I think I look more like Comet. Or Cupid."

Hermione grinned. "Well, you do make those antlers look handsome."

Wham!

"Hermione, try the carrot costume," said Dean.

Harry cast a Death Glare at Dean, but Hermione just laughed and went to change. When she emerged, she was orange from head to toe.

"Ha ha, I look like a lumpy pencil!"

She looked from both Dean to Harry for confirmation. Before Harry could think of something to say, Dean commented, "Well, I think you're a sight for sore eyes. You know, because carrots have Vitamin A…never mind."

Hermione giggled—what was with all the laughing—and shook her head. "Silly."

Wham!

"Harry," said Hermione, sifting through the rack. "Want to try on—"

He shook his head. "I'm fine with what I'm wearing. Excuse me."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Harry took his cocoa to wait outside.

It's okay, his Hufflepuff side reassured him. It won't lose you that many friendship points for not playing dress up. They'll lose interest and come out soon.

Harry watched his cocoa cooling in his hands, thinking dark thoughts.

No, stop that. She's not replacing you.

Harry conceded that this might be true, but it still hurt to be in the same room with them. It was like watching two kittens discovering catnip for the first time, and he was just a dog that couldn't join in.

Not that this was the first time it had happened—not "fitting in" was a frequent occurrence for him. He just hadn't really wished he could until now.

Harry sighed, tapping his finger along the cocoa cup. He hated the way he was feeling right now, the incessant jealous thoughts. He was familiar enough with his own mental processes to know it would only get worse if he prolonged the stimulus. It would be better to wait out here.

While he waited, Harry observed the gingerbread houses around them, each decorated in incredible detail with frosting, gumdrops and peppermints in a variety of colours. In the town centre, vibrant fiddle music played as the little blob oranges and grapefruits danced in concentric circles, like some starving child's fever dream.

Leaning against a gingerbread wall, Harry wondered how they'd gotten dropped into Winter Wonderland in the first place. He'd seen glitches in the game before, but he'd never seen a quest completely change course in the middle. It was like the game master tipped the board and decided to start over.

This brought up the question, once again, of what kind of magic created this world and maintained it. As flurries drifted through the air, Harry observed the incredibly detailed panorama around him.

It was said that a blade of grass contained thousands of different molecules, each one perfectly shaped to perform a function. Each snowflake was said to be a unique combination of crystals, so that none was just like another.

The Hogwarts quests regularly created thousands of worlds—filled with incredible detail that made them indistinguishable from Earth—and then collapsed them within a couple of hours. From Harry's experience, that kind of magical effect was not just unusual, but almost impossible to create.

Magic was incredibly useful and interesting, but it was not powerful, at least in the sense that it was not exploitable. Harry could not take the spell "Aguamenti," for instance, and modify it to create a self-sustaining hydro-electric dam. Neither could he use the space modifying spells on his trunk to create a pocket universe. In fact, as his experiments showed, magic routinely refused to do anything besides what it was originally designed to do, which usually was a quite mundane task.

In fact, Harry knew of only two ways to reliably have access to powerful magic. Either you needed an ancient artefact with power imbued inside it, and those were extremely hard to come by. Or you needed to perform a ritual, the majority of which were quite dark. And, since Harry didn't see anyone sacrificing virgins here, he reasoned that this quests' source of power was probably an artefact.

Harry captured a snowflake on his fingertip, examining it.

He wished he could figure out what this artefact was. He reasoned it was either a giant transfiguration generator, or it tapped into some kind of reality manipulation. In either case, it would be extremely useful to find, and not just for ready made rockets. What if it could create pocket universes? What if it could fold space and time?

In the beginning, he'd made an effort to search for it. Once, he attempted to walk to the edge of a world map, hoping it would lead him to where the game universe unravelled, and he was deposited in a hallway in Hogwarts for his trouble.

The artefact could be Hogwarts itself, of course. It was ancient, and full of magic that created rooms, and moved staircases, and had secret hidden passageways.

But then again…

Sometimes, Harry wondered if there was a win condition. If you played the quests enough, could you unlock this artefact for yourself? Would the quest masters decide that you'd "won" and hand over their highest prize?

And if not…then what was the real point of these quests? Did ancient wizards place this giant transfiguration generator in Hogwarts—more powerful than anything he'd ever seen or heard of—just so that kids could play games? It seemed impractical, even for wizards. Like driving a Formula 1 race car on a roller rink.

But it was funny, how easy it was to forget how astounding this game world was after getting used to it. Such as right now, when he was feeling somewhat annoyed that the Quest Masters got rid of his perfectly good dungeon crawl and replaced it with Candy Land.

Harry glanced at the shop's window, hearing laughter within. He really would have liked to discuss his theories with Hermione, but didn't think that was an option when Dean was around. He needed a distraction, something that would get the quest back on track.

Where's a fire-breathing dragon when you need one? asked Gryffindor.

Actually, I was thinking about mountains, said Slytherin. And how there are lots of ways to fall off them.

His brain was silent for a moment, trying to process what was wrong with him.

Harry sensed the world flicker, as if the entire earth shifted off balance, the force pulling him with it. His cocoa tumbled into the snow as he slammed against the wall, his fingers digging into the gingerbread. Around him, the sound of merriment continued, laughter and singing.

Letting out a slow breath, Harry pulled away from the wall, brushing crumbs from his hair. While he'd been falling off a roller coaster, none of the dancing fruit creatures had even missed a step.

The cheerful music was interrupted by a distant roar that sounded to Harry like a dragon. The blobs screamed and scattered to find shelter as a dark shadow passed over the nearby mountain. Harry stared at the sky, watching exactly what he wished for unfolding before his eyes.

What in the hell is going on?


There was something absolutely magical about Candy Town.

Hermione skipped through the store, stopping to smell a candle. It wasn't just that everything there was ridiculously cute, or that the villagers waddled around like adorable ducklings, or the fact that the air smelled like vanilla and cinnamon rolls. No, it was because it was a place where love and kindness mattered more than money, competition, or appearance. It was the sort of utopia that only existed in fairy tales, and that humanity would never hope to reach without a serious mental overhaul.

Not that the amazing clothes weren't a plus, though.

Dean stepped out of the dressing room wearing a giant cloud costume. "Ahh." He stroked the puffy sleeves. "I am so full of," he gave her a look, "mist-ery."

She rolled her eyes. "Stop it."

He chuckled and leaned against the clothing rack, watching her search through it. "What are you looking for?"

"Something for you." She took a hanger off, examined it quickly, placed it back on the rack. "I saw this purple leather jumper with a dinosaur head that I just need to take a picture of you wearing."

"I…don't know what to say to that," said Dean, eyeing her. "But I'm only wearing it if you try on the leather cat suit."

She snorted. "I think I've ate one too many sundaes to make that outfit look good."

"Hmm." He studied her. "That's a matter of opinion, I think. I happen to like thick girls." He grinned. "As Freddy Mercury would say, they make the world go round."

Hermione frowned, unsure what he meant until Dean started singing, "Ohhhh, you gonna take me home tonight…"

She punched his arm, and he laughed. "Sorry," he said. "Cat suit or not, you're gorgeous. Let's go get changed."

Blushing, Hermione went to go put on the first outfit that she grabbed. As she got changed, she wondered if Dean actually thought she was pretty, or if he was just teasing her. Boys did that sometimes, she suspected they liked to make her blush. If he was flirting then, well…she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Briefly, she imagined what Harry would have said to her instead, if she'd called herself fat. He'd probably just ignore it completely, or say something along the lines of, "You look fine, BMI only really affects your health if you're over 30% adiposity anyway. Pass me that book, will you?"

Hermione smiled sadly, shrugging on her sleeves. She hadn't seen much of him lately, and all day long he'd been quiet and distant. She'd hoped if he joined her on the quest, he would at least talk to her. But it had been like that between them since Christmas, and she was beginning to wonder if this was just their new normal.

As she slipped on the dress, the collar snagged against her cat necklace, the one Harry gave her. She rubbed the smooth metal against her fingers, feeling a knot in her chest. The necklace reminded her of Crookshanks, and she'd thought that's why she'd taken to wearing it every day…but why did looking at it now make her want to cry?

Hermione winced as a sudden pain spiked in her forehead, then came a rush of dizziness. She groaned and slumped down on a wooden bench, massaging her temples, but the pain kept getting worse. She tried a few magical pain reduction charms, but they weren't helping, either.

She heard a distant roar, followed by the screams of the townspeople. Ignoring the jackhammer behind her eyes, she struggled into the wool dress, grabbing the nearest jacket and running out of the stall.

Behind the counter, Hermione saw the shopkeeper, huddling on the floor and quivering. Dean hovered outside the changing booths, while Harry ran into the doorway, eyes scanning until they locked on Hermione.

Blueberry ran through Harry's legs, his feet tracking snow onto the wooden floor.

"Sorry, Mr. Bill! Hermione and Dean, you must go, you must go!"

His little hand tugged on Hermione's, attempting to drag her to the doorway.

"Stop, please." She planted her feet. "What's going on?"

Blueberry quivered violently, his hand squeezing hers. "There is a hidden evil in this town of which we do not speak." He averted his eyes. "It is my fault. I knew this would happen when I brought you."

Hermione pressed the heel of her palm against her temple, her head still pounding. She glanced up at Harry, who was observing the creature with his arms folded. His eyes met hers, and his expression shifted to one of concern.

"Once every month," whispered Blueberry. "It takes a sacrifice from our village, carries it away to the mountain." Blueberry squeezed his eyes shut. "We…we never see them again! I don't want anyone else to die!"

"No one's going to die," declared Harry. He took a step forwards and touched her arm, whispering softly. "Are you okay?"

It said something about how desperate she was for his attention that her heart did a few backflips. Even so, she shrugged it off, declining his help. As soon as it had come, the headache was gone. It was strange, but there was no time to think of it now. Blueberry quivered against her leg, more shaken up than before.

"Where is the beast?" asked Dean.

"Why do you want to know?" asked the shopkeeper, peeking out from behind the counter. "Do you wish to challenge him?"

"No, you must not!" cried Blueberry, his tiny hands gripping Hermione's skirt. "He is too strong and too evil to defeat! You must hide with us, come!" Blueberry unsuccessfully tried to pull Hermione behind the counter.

"Am I correct in thinking this creature is a dragon?" asked Harry. He'd returned to the door, casting cautious glances outside. "How long has it been terrorizing the village? What defences do you have in place?" He must have been thinking the same thing Hermione was—the town didn't look like it suffered from regular aerial assaults.

"We don't have any," said the shopkeeper. "Only adventurers brave enough to try to stop him. They always come, right before he does, but…they never survive."

"I see," said Harry. "Well, then. Tell us every detail you can about this creature, and show us to the local blacksmith or potion maker for weapons, if there is one."

The shopkeeper shook his head. "It is said that the brave must face him with nothing but their courage."

"Why?" asked Harry.

The shopkeeper shrugged. "That is the way it is. I'm sorry I cannot tell you more."

"Hmm," said Harry. "So it's either a riddle, or a very silly rule that an enterprising young Ravenclaw is about to challenge. In any case, we're done here. Come on, friends, let's go search the rest of the town for supplies and wise old clerics."

Hermione spoke gently to the shivering Blueberry. "What do you think would help us win?"

Sniffling, Blueberry turned his tear stained eyes to Hermione. "If you must go, then remember to use the power inside you." He pressed a tiny hand to her chest. "Believe in yourself, in the power of friendship and love. It is the greatest gift you have. Together, if you have faith, you and your friends may have the strength to destroy the evil beast once and for all."

The beast roared again, which saved Hermione from having to come up with a response. She believed in the power of love as much as the next person, but there were limits.

As they passed out of the shop, Hermione stumbled just a little, and two hands shot out to catch her. Dean and Harry, one on either side. She looked from one to the other in gratitude, but found they were both glaring at each other.


Dean had always had a way with words. He was able to pinpoint a person's strengths, draw them out, and help people grow to be the best they could be. Even, sometimes, when he had to drag them to it kicking and screaming.

But that gift was a double edged sword. As easy as it was to build someone up, it was just as easy to tear them down. Especially when that person was getting on his last nerve.

As soon as they'd left the clothing shop, the three of them gathered the necessary equipment to slay a dragon. Dean even found a weapon, a giant black mallet appropriately named "Hammer of Liquorice." As they climbed the mountain, they came across several intriguing challenges which would have been fun to solve, if Harry hadn't insisted on acting like a complete tool.

Their first quest required them to cross a vast bridge over a mountain pass. The gate keeper informed them that their fee was to gather several precious gems that had been lost in nearby caves. As they turned back, Dean was just about to transfigure a pickaxe when Harry spoke up.

"That's a waste of time. I'll just fly everyone over. We have a dragon to slay before the game ends, and that takes precedence over other side quests."

"But…" Dean turned back to the old gatekeeper. "The stones could be important later on."

Harry shrugged. "I doubt it, but if it turns out I'm wrong, I'll fly back and collect them myself."

Hermione seemed as disappointed as Dean, but she sided with Harry. "We do have to be back in a few hours for dinner."

As they travelled up the mountain, they faced skirmishes with the mountain monsters: snow beasts and rock creatures. Dean charged forwards with his Hammer of Liquorice, attacking with gusto, but a few battles in, his enemies started falling over before he hit them.

"What the—" Dean turned, and saw Harry lowering his wand. "What was that for?"

"We're wizards," said Harry, pointedly. "We don't need to beat up the creatures, we just need to stun them. Let's go."

"The hammer doesn't hurt them," said Dean, holding aloft his weapon. "It's just knocking them out! Besides, I thought the point of the game was to defeat enemies?"

"Yes, but Somnium is more efficient," said Harry. "Or did you learn nothing from Professor Quirrell?"

"Harry, please," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Let's go."

Harry said nothing to that, which for some reason ticked Dean off even more. But he pushed it aside, deciding it wasn't worth starting a fight over.

They climbed relentlessly towards the mountain top. The wind grew fierce as the temperature plummeted, but Dean and Hermione told stories to pass the time. Hermione's voice was broken by fits of laughter, and his heart skipped a beat, wishing he could be alone with her. He wanted to tease and play with her, to see if she was someone he could really fall for.

Meanwhile, Harry kept up the rear, glowering the entire way. With Harry's dark cloak and hood, it was like watching the grim reaper trailing behind them, grimacing like he smelled something bad. This would have been funny, except for the chills Dean was getting from the glare in Harry's eyes.

The three of them reached a cliff edge, pausing to admire the scenic view of the winter wonderland. Nearby, beside a mountain pass, they found a wooden sign that said, "The Monster's Lair."

Dean drew everyone into a huddle. "Before we go in, let's make a plan. I don't mind being the muscle and taking hits, if you'll be the healer, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking over his offer. She was just about to respond when Harry cut in. "Logically speaking, you should be the healer, Dean. Hermione is more durable and has more experience in combat. I'll be the range hitter, attacking the monster from the air."

Dean raised his hammer. "How am I supposed to use this if I'm a healer?"

"Don't. That weapon is stupid."

Dean took a breath in and let it out. "Alright, what is your deal? Do you have a problem with me?"

"Not at all," Harry's voice was a drawl. "Just your gameplay. The quest rewards us based on our demonstrated performance, both with greater challenge and better prizes. You might not have enough experience to realise this, but the level of challenge in this game has been non-existent. A five year old could make it through unharmed. Aside from being extremely boring, it means our quest prize is likely to be somewhere along the rarity of a pack of popsicles. Three guesses as to why you think that is, Dean."

"Sweet Merlin, is the quest prize really that important to you?" Dean demanded, hackles raised. "Or do you just need control of absolutely everything?"

"Of course not," said Harry. "I would let somebody capable be in charge. But if we'd followed your plans, we'd still be collecting rocks at the bottom often the mountain."

"Harry—" cut in Hermione.

"I've been patient up to now," Harry continued. "But it's extremely important that we do well in this final battle. You've said you can keep pace with us, so do it. Stop making us pick up your slack."

Dean looked at Harry beside Hermione, glaring at him with that know-it-all mockery while she looked on, and he just snapped.

"You know, I'm getting really tired of your attitude." He folded his arms. "You avoid everyone for weeks, don't even bother to explain why, and then show up and expect Hermione and I to follow your orders. The only person you don't act like you're better than is Hermione, so of course it rankles you that she'd spend time with me. And yet, she prefers my company to your sorry ass. So, next time, why don't you do us both a favour and stay holed up in whatever closet you're wanking off in?"

"Dean—"

"How typical." Harry's voice had gone cold, his smile vanished. "Hermione's a brilliant, competent witch, and all you see is an attractive female you want to conquer. Oh, I bet you had all these plans about how you would get Hermione alone, make her to giggle and blush and pull up her skirt." Hermione gasped and grabbed Harry's arm, but he wouldn't shut up. "Really, it's almost sad that you assume she's interested, since she thinks you need a handicap to win this game. And if you knew Hermione better, you'd know she only laughs at your jokes because she's too kind not to give you pity laughter. So why don't you go find a ditzy bint to bury your dick in so you can soothe your fragile ego?"

Dean saw red, and he yelled in Harry's face. "Why would Hermione want a psychopathic nutjob? I bet you jerk off to thoughts of hurting her, you sick fu-"

Harry fired off a curse, and Dean dodged, flinging back one of his own. Hermione was shouting at them to stop, but Dean couldn't, not when Harry was smirking at him like that. When the disarming spell knocked the wand out of Dean's hand, he ran full tilt and pummelled into Harry, wrenching his wand away through brute force. Harry swung, and Dean dodged, but the next hit connected with Dean's stomach. He coughed as Harry punched him again, feeling something breaking. Another hit, and it shattered.

This was bad. How the hell was Harry so strong? He needed to get away, but Harry's arm wrapped around Dean's neck and took him to the ground, kicking and punching in a total free for all.

"Stop!" cried Hermione. "You're going to kill yourselves!"

Dean felt the solid earth beneath his head give way to open air. He jerked himself back, but Harry's weight shoved him further towards the abyss. Panic seized him with the knowledge they were about to die, when firm hands gripped them both and pulled them back to safety.

Dean fell into the snow, savouring the first few moments of solid ground, when he heard Hermione scream. "That is enough! You two are idiots, both of you! I ought to tie you up and feed you to the dragon!"

"Hermione—" Harry began.

"You!" she cried, pointing at him. "I don't even want to hear it! What is wrong with you! Why were you rolling to the cliff, were you trying to kill Dean?"

"No!" cried Harry, coughing. "I wouldn't—I didn't know—"

"Shut up!" she cried. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You promised me you wouldn't do this again, Harry! You swore up and down, but if I hadn't been here to stop you—if I hadn't-"

She shoved him in the chest, hard. Harry just took it, too stunned to move.

"Sometimes, you just…" She faltered, her eyes tearing up. "You scare me, Harry. It makes me feel like I can't…I can't trust you. Not really."

There was a moment of silence where the only sound was the wind. Dean watched as Hermione hugged herself, turning to walk away from everyone. Harry stood rooted in place, staring at her like she'd just stabbed him.

There was a long, long wait of just staring in silence, as there wasn't much to be said or done. Dean coughed, sending sharp pains shooting through his chest, and he realized with a groan just how badly he was injured. Broken ribs, at least, if not something worse.

But before he could ask for help, Harry was already beside him, wand drawn. "Leigheas briste."

Within seconds, breathing no longer hurt. Surprised, Dean turned to say something, but Harry was already walking away.

Dean swallowed, feeling an awful weight in his stomach. How did everything get so messed up? He stood, realizing he had to do something to fix this, even if it was something he didn't want to do.

"Harry. Hermione," said Dean, waiting a moment for her to turn her eyes to him. "I really screwed up. I let my anger get the best of me, and it was wrong. I'm sorry." He turned to Harry. "I hope you both can forgive me."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, and then he mumbled. "Sorry."

Hermione took in a shaking breath, as if on the verge of tears.

"Is there a way to end the game?" asked Dean. "Do we just call out, 'I quit?'"

"Well, let's see," said Hermione. Her voice rang out as almost a screech. "I quit!" The sound echoed across the mountains, but was met only by the sighing of the wind. She shrugged, her tone dully sarcastic. "I thought not. Anyway, the quest will force an ending in about an hour or so, if you think you boys can keep from killing each other for that long?"

Harry stared at the mountain cliff in dejected silence, and Dean rubbed the back of his head. He was a little afraid to talk, but no one was saying anything, so…

"Do we just…enter the cave?" After a long moment, Hermione shrugged, and he took that as implied consent. "Umm…well, I guess…whenever you're ready, we'll go in."

A few minutes later, they did.