Chapter 38: Partner up

Merlin and Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing at an urgent, purposeful pace as if heading to a battle. And a battle they encountered. Madam Pomfrey protested when the Headmaster requested to leave them alone with the patient, forcing him to politely enact his authority. She grumbled under her breath about endangering her patients but she gave them privacy.

Merlin smoothed the hair on Colin's head. He was so young, so innocent. His face was frozen in a look of shock. What did he see?

"Was he holding something?" he asked, intrigued by the position the boy's arms were frozen in.

"A camera." Merlin shot him a look, and Dumbledore answered the question before it was asked, "The film disintegrated into ash."

"It might have saved his life," Merlin murmured.

He laid out the pages he'd brought with him and started casting the spells one by one. He'd gathered the strongest charms: from awakening, animating, to potent healing. He repeated each incantation a dozen times and felt the magic transfer from him into the boy, but all it was doing was draining Merlin's strength. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, and he swayed on his legs, but he pushed himself to keep going. His magic had to be enough.

After he'd been going at it for a good quarter of an hour, Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and said in a soft voice, "Maybe you're done for today."

"No." Merlin shrugged him off. "I've got more."

He kept going and was less careful with the pages, letting them glide to the floor as he discarded them. A frightening thought occurred to him then: that the magic that petrified the boy was so dark, even Merlin's spells were no match for it, but he had to have hope. He could barely stand, but it was only a physical weakness. His magic wasn't depleted yet, and he had to try harder for Colin. He poured all his might into the next healing spell, and the room illuminated in a blast of warm energy.

Merlin's knees gave out, and he caught himself on Colin's bed which squeaked in protest. The boy's body glowed from the effects of the last spell, but it was still frozen in the same position.

A strong hand pulled Merlin up and led him away.

"You're done, dear," a female voice said.

His vision swam in front of him, and he wasn't sure who put his tired body in a nearby bed.

"No. There's more," he croaked, trying to get up.

"Not tonight, dear. Rest."

Maybe just a little break. He only needed a couple of minutes to recover, and he would get right back to his job. He heard whispers around him but could no longer understand them as darkness pulled him in.

》《

Merlin woke up to the smell of food and cleaning solutions. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times. His stomach grumbled, telling him to find the source of the edible aroma. Madam Pomfrey had just put a bowl of what smelled like porridge on his nightstand. He was in the Hospital Wing and daylight streamed through the windows. He spent the night here?

"Just in time," she said. "Eat up while it's still warm. You need to replenish the energy you spent yesterday."

He sat up and took the bowl in his hands. Porridge was perfect right now.

The sounds of the spoon touching the bowl were the only ones disrupting the odd quiet of the reverberant room. Aside from him, there were only two silent patients there. He was on a bed next to Colin whose petrified position had not changed at all, making him look like a wax figure. Two beds over, Mrs. Norris lay in a permanent defensive position like an eerie stuffed animal.

"It was quite a stunt you pulled last night. You managed to magic yourself into unconsciousness," Madam Pomfrey said.

Merlin continued spooning his porridge, glancing over at Colin. He failed. He pushed himself over his limit—something he'd never managed before—and it still wasn't enough. What magic was this?

She continued, "Your roommate and Head of House were already alerted that you're here so you don't have to worry about explaining your absence."

"What were they told?"

"You fainted due to low blood sugar, which is very close to the truth. You need to put more meat on those bones. You're so skinny, a gust of wind could blow you away."

Merlin couldn't gain weight even if he wanted to. His body was frozen in the state of what he looked like at this age. The times of his childhood were hard, and the food was scarce. All kids were skinny like him back then.

He met her eyes and tried to judge what she thought of the previous night. Did he give himself away with the magic he performed?

She must have understood his thoughts."Yes, I saw the healing spells you were trying to perform last night. They're quite unique. You might have accidentally cured my migraine with the last one."

She picked up the pages with his spells and looked them over. They were all written in an ancient rune, but a trained healer like her might be able to read them. "Unfortunately, none of them worked."

Colin's petrified body was incriminating evidence of his failure. Some "Great" Merlin he was.

"Don't beat yourself up, child. It was an admirable effort." She smiled at him kindly. "I'm happy to see someone as young as you interested in the healing arts."

He nearly choked on his porridge but did not say anything.

She continued, "What type of spells are these?"

"Old Religion," he answered simply.

She studied the pages before stacking them neatly and leaving them back on the table.

"Listen, child. As you may have noticed last night, healing magic can be very draining. No one can be expected to cast a spell after spell without consequences. I caution you against doing this again."

"There are several more in there I'd like to try."

She exhaled sharply. "Professor Dumbledore assured me that you knew what you were doing, but you must understand that I can't help but be skeptical to trust the expertise of a young healer like you. A spell done wrong can be more damaging than the original ailment. You could hurt your friend if you continue."

"I've been doing this for a long time, Madam Pomfrey," Merlin said but knew that his word wouldn't count for much. Just how many years could an eleven-year-old practice something? "This isn't an experiment. I would never take a gamble with Colin's life."

"We will prepare Mandrake Restorative Draught, and your friend will recover. There is no gamble in that."

"It will be months!" He put down the empty bowl in his lap, resisting the urge to lick it. He was still hungry. "I have to try. I can't go on for months, pretending like everything is fine if there's even a slight chance that I can spare him this fate. Surely, you can relate to that feeling."

She glanced at Colin and smoothed out her white apron. "Very well. However, you're my charge too, so we will do this by my rules. Come in two days if you feel that you're back to your full strength. We'll do only two spells at a time. And you will have to take a two-day break between each attempt."

"That will take too long!"

"Do you think your spells are effective if you can't even stand on your feet? You're not casting them if you're not fully rested."

"I can handle more than two."

"It is final," she said and moved on to check his pulse.

He had to let her have the final word right now, but he wanted to finish this exercise the next time he tried. In fact, the more he thought about the failure of the previous night, the more he became convinced that healing spells wouldn't work. Colin wasn't hurt. There was nothing to repair in his body. Merlin needed to change his tactic.

She fussed over him. "I'm not fully convinced that you are ready to return to classes, Mr. Ealdor."
"I'll be sure to take it easy today. Thank you for your care," he got out of bed and looked for his shoes.

He knew what worried her and wanted to leave before she looked closer. His vitals were all over the place as usual and fluctuated for no good reason. He was a child, but he was an adult, but he was as old as mummies on the museum display. He was a medical paradox held together by magic, and the longer she looked, the more she would become convinced that he was sick, maybe even dying.

"Do remember to eat, child, and get plenty of rest." She linked her hands in front of her and tilted her head slightly, giving her a stern and concerned look at the same time. "I wasn't kidding about the low blood sugar."

He found his shoes under the bed and got ready to leave. He gathered the pages of his spells and snuck a last look at Colin, sending the boy a silent promise that he'd return and try harder. He respectfully inclined his head to the school healer and departed.

It worried him how weak he was becoming. He'd never knocked himself out with his own magic before. Perhaps his eleven-year-old body wasn't durable enough? There was something he could do about it, but it would require him to visit the Crystal Cave, and he'd been avoiding it for some time. He'd try to put it off, but if this weakness got any worse, he would have no choice.

His steps echoed in an empty stone corridor as he took a shortcut to the Gryffindor tower. Beyond the closed doors, he could hear lectures taking place. It was Monday morning and he should join his peers in Potions right now. Yeah, that was unlikely. He had a good excuse to avoid it, and he was going to use it.

Whether by accident or subconsciously wanting to, his legs brought him to the most colorful corridor in the castle. Tapestries from around the world and different time periods adorned the walls along with many portraits. The carpet runner hushed his footsteps and led him to a small door he knew was Potions Master's storeroom.

The Greasy Git was now teaching in the dungeons, most teachers were busy, and there would be no students wandering around either. It appeared that Merlin's gangly legs decided that this was a perfect time for some thieving.

He'd had enough of getting caught so some precautions were required. Glamour would work best, but he still wasn't completely recovered from last night's healing and wasn't even sure if he could do it. What he really needed was just a warning. He sat up an invisible tripwire before both entrances of the corridor, tying the ends to two suits of armor. If anyone were to enter, the suits would fall over and alert him to hide or flee, whichever was safer.

Feeling somewhat secure, he easily unlocked the heavy wooden door and closed it behind him. Wizards and their little spells. Fools thought an Anti-Alohomora charm was enough to fully secure a locked door. Not from him.

He conjured a floating glowing orb to discreetly light the place. The Potion Master's storeroom was smaller than he expected. It was a tall but cramped room with shelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, accessible by a ladder. He wanted to avoid the break-in from being discovered so he couldn't just summon the missing ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion. He had to take only the amount he needed and attempt to make his visit undetectable.

He started from the bottom shelf and inspected each ingredient. There were quite a few rare plants and substances down there, some of them dangerous, explaining why they were kept locked away from the students in a corridor so flashy, a plain door was easily overlooked. It was a nice collection, worthy of a proper potioneer. Snape was an awful person, but he knew his craft.

Merlin found boomslang skin first. He conjured a small bag and transferred only three measures as the recipe required. He put the jar back in the same spot and resumed looking for the other ingredients. The higher up the ladder he ventured, the more interesting objects he found. While the bottom shelves contained raw ingredients, the top ones stored potent extracts and finished potions. He was all the way to the top when his eye caught sight of a small bottle, and he nearly fell off the ladder from excitement.

"Veritaserum," he read the label.

He wanted this truth potion. Too many people were holding secrets in this castle. Just three drops of the truth potion in their drink and the problem would be solved. The thought of using Veritaserum on children felt wrong. It would be a breach of trust and a moral crime. If his friends ever found out, they would never forgive him, but he needed to know what he was dealing with to solve the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets. It wasn't the time to let morality impair his ability to protect these children.

He held it in his hand and considered his options. If a potion this rare was gone, it would definitely be noticed, but if only some of it went missing, the theft might never be discovered. He conjured a small flask and poured half of the contents in, enough for at least two doses. He placed the original bottle in the same spot where he found it and corked his flask. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. The clear liquid looked so simple and non-threatening in its glass container, but when used on the unsuspecting and untrained, it was extremely powerful. They would have no idea how to recognize the symptoms. They would tell him everything.

Merlin finished searching all the shelves for the remaining ingredients and did not find any bicorn horn. Snape had to have kept it elsewhere. Happy from his finds nonetheless, Merlin came out and locked the door behind him. Just as he finished the spell, he heard the clatter of a suit of armor.

"What is this?" Filch whined. "Nasty spoiled brats using the honorable school for jokes. If it were up to me, they'd be spending their detentions in shackles."

Merlin ran in the opposite direction from Filch, but like the fool that he was, he forgot about the second tripwire and ran right into it. The suit of armor fell apart as he painfully sprawled on the floor. The helmet spun around right next to his head and stopped while facing him. Merlin could almost hear its mocking laugh echo in the iron dome.

"Who's there?" Filch's voice reached him.

Merlin scrambled his uncooperating limbs out of there and ran as fast as he could. He landed in the Viaduct Entrance Hall, from here the options were to run outside or downstairs. He did not look forward to spending time in the frigid weather, so he took his chances with the dungeons.

Down the spiral staircase and into the gloomy underground corridor he went. He knew these passages well from the time when he attended Hogwarts originally. While many parts of the castle had changed over time, the dungeons were mostly the same. He passed by the Slytherin Dungeon entrance and was getting closer to the staircase that would take him to the ground floor where he could disappear in the safety of numbers. He could see the light of it already when he ran into a mass of black robes which had just come out of a classroom.

Merlin didn't know who it was, but he was not going to get caught again! No more failures! He immediately put glamour on himself, and by the time he landed on his butt, he was invisible.

Who else would he have the misfortune of running into if not Severus Snape himself? The Greasy Git looked around, bewildered but didn't see him.

Merlin held his breath and focused on his glamour. He couldn't imagine what explanation he could provide this time. He had a proper excuse as to why he'd skipped detention last night and didn't show up for the morning class, but running through the dungeons while he was supposedly sick would be extremely hard to wriggle himself out of.

Snape didn't give up looking for what had just bumped into him and outstretched his hand, searching for the invisible. Merlin fought to control his ragged breathing and not give away his position on the floor. His glamour was powerful, but it wasn't infallible. In an open space like this, from such close proximity, his movement could be visible as a ripple in the air. He needed a distraction to get away.

He peered through the open door to the Potions classroom. He concentrated on a group of empty vials standing on a table and dropped one to the floor. Snape slowly turned to check what made the noise. Merlin dropped another vial. Snape looked around the corridor one last time and walked inside. Another vial dropped, and Merlin quietly stood on his feet.

"Who's here?" Snape asked in a growl.

The rest of the vials fell down one by one, the door to the Potions classroom slammed shut, and Merlin ran for it. He was already on top of the stairs when Snape ran out, shouting, "Peeves! I will get you for this!"

》《

Last night, Jack barely got any sleep in. McGonagall told him that Merlin wasn't well and was in the Hospital Wing, and so for the first time in months, Jack slept alone. He forgot how lonely it felt to not have another person gently breathing next to him, to not hear anything other than the swish of his bedsheet. It brought back the memories of when Mother used to punish him by separating him from Elsa. And when he fell asleep, he dreamt of darkness.

He woke up too late to visit Merlin, so he planned on it right after lunch. So now as he came down to the Great Hall, he was taken by surprise when he found Merlin fast asleep at the Gryffindor table with his head resting on his arms, gently snoring into his sleeve. And he felt different. There was a hint of different magic around him, something that reminded Jack of the fairy he'd met in the greenhouse.

Jack nudged his arm. "Merlin? Are you okay?"

Merlin raised his head. His eyes were half-closed and there was a red imprint of wrinkled robes on his face. He looked around at the amused faces of other Gryffindors who were whispering and pointing at him.

Familiar click-clacking of McGonagall's heels approached them. "Mr. Ealdor, what is the meaning of this?"

He rubbed his eyes. "What now?"

"I was told you were in the Hospital Wing. But you're here, sleeping?"

Merlin scratched his head and yawned widely. All the eyes were on him, but he didn't seem to mind. "I was too tired to get up all those stairs to the Gryffindor Tower. And then I was hungry but too tired to make it all the way to the kitchens. So I settled on waiting for the food here." He noticed the food in front of him and woke up a little more. "Yes!"

He immediately dug in and didn't even check how McGonagall reacted to his explanation. She opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times, uncharacteristically speechless, then she addressed Jack. "Jack, would you kindly ensure Mr. Ealdor makes it to your dorm after lunch? If he can't make it, then he needs to go back to Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm fine," Merlin said with a full mouth, "just hungry. Fast metabolism. I need to eat more often."

McGonagall sighed so loudly, it sounded more like a growl.

"I'll take care of him," Jack confirmed, and she finally walked back to her seat.

Jack watched him eat and wasn't sure what to do. McGonagall wasn't clear when describing Merlin's health issue last night. "So, are you really okay or you just wanted to get rid of her?"

"I'm fine, don't worry yourself."

The way Merlin devoured food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks didn't look 'fine' despite his assurances.

He grinned and some food escaped his mouth and landed on his robes, reminding Jack of the food fight they'd had at this table with Colin. They were having so much fun and accidentally attracted Peeves, and he made the fight even messier. A fight like that wouldn't have been the same without Colin.

Merlin followed his eyes to the stain on his shirt and tried to rub it off.

Jack looked away and caught Elsa's eye as she walked up to the Ravenclaw table. She raised her eyebrows and gesticulated a question, and he guessed she wanted to know when they'd try to look for the mirror again. Clearly, not now, he tried to convey with his expression. She huffed and turned away from him to sit at her table.

"That's the almost-telepathy you spoke about," Merlin said, studying him. "That definitely looked like a conversation."

Jack stirred the food around on his plate, not interested in commenting on how he communicated with his sister. Knowing real telepathy would have been nice, though he worried that she'd constantly bug his head if she could.

They didn't talk to each other much during lunch, and after, Jack walked him to their dorm as promised.

Merlin sprawled on his bed and pat his belly. "I'm so stuffed."

Jack lingered, biting his lip. "Merlin?"

"Hmm?" His eyes were closed already.

"Can you let me know the next time you're doing something past curfew? I need to know if I'm supposed to worry about your absence or not."

"You don't have to worry about me," he mumbled.

"Maybe I don't have to, but I still do. You're my friend."

Merlin didn't answer, and Jack wasn't sure if he was really asleep or just pretending. It was so frustrating to be stuck with the decision: to tell on him or not. If Jack wouldn't tell and something happened to Merlin, it would be his fault. But if he told someone, and Merlin was safe and sound, just doing something stupid, then Jack would get his friend in trouble like a mean snitch.

"I'll be studying with Elsa in the afternoon. I'll see you at the evening feast. You just… just rest."

This was actually a part-lie. He wasn't going to study, he had an English class, but it was too embarrassing to admit it.

He still had an hour to spare so he went down to the common room. As usual, he looked for a spot away from the fireplace as it was lit every day now. He saw the Weasley twins on the other side of the room and got an idea to ask them about his new mayhem contract. They were working on a piece of parchment which had a large letter 'W' in the upper right corner.

"We'll definitely need skiving supplies," said Fred.

"That's a given," said George.

"A guaranteed best-seller. What else?"

"We could have toys for little kids."

"What kind?"

"Hey, our food-fighting friend," George addressed Jack. "We could use a kid's opinion. If you could go back in time and give the younger you a cool magical toy, what would it be?"

Jack wasn't too pleased about being called a kid when they weren't that much older than him. They looked at him expectantly, and he felt obligated to give them something. What did he like when he was younger? He remembered how excited he was when he found huggers for the first time. They weren't toys, of course, but the same principle applied.

"Maybe something that can fly?"

Fred clapped his hands. "Yes. A flying toy."

George wrote it down. "Everyone heard of Harry and Ron's arrival in a flying car. We could create a miniature copy of it."

"Brilliant. I got it! Aviatomobile."

The twins high-fived each other, and Jack sat down next to them to look at their parchment. "So what are you doing?"

"We're brainstorming product ideas."

"We're going to develop our own line of products."

"Better than Zonko's Joke Shop."

"I don't know what that is." Jack felt like an idiot again.

"It's a store in Hogsmeade."

"They'll let you visit in your third year."

"We'll bring you something next time we go, but," Fred pointed a finger at him, "help us come up with more product ideas."

Jack felt a little giddy inside, ready to forgive them for calling him a kid. Being around them made him feel like he had older brothers. Speaking of, he had a question for them. "You guys know Peeves, right?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever worked with him?"

The twins exchanged a look. Fred shrugged. "He's joined us on some of our famous pranks but we never purposefully worked with him. Why?"

"I… I was just wondering. Does he ever get students in trouble?"

"All the time," George answered. "He has a habit of giving you away when you're trying to sneak around."

"He finds it hilarious when you start running for your life."

Jack frowned. This didn't sound good. "Do you have any tips on dealing with him?"

"Appeal to his mayhem-love to keep him on your side."

"Give him a fun job if you're in the middle of doing something you're not supposed to be doing."

"And by fun, we mean mischief. He's not interested in jigsaw puzzles."

"So, back to business," Fred rubbed his hands. "Ideas. Give us ideas."

Jack scratched his head. "A product for dealing with a poltergeist." He could use one.

George nodded and wrote it down. "Good. Good. A poltergeist distractor."

Jack looked at his shoes and remembered how he'd left them in the snow, and also what Elsa told him about Luna's shoes. "Locator shoelaces for the times when you can't find your shoes."

He thought of how he wished some people would lighten up a little more. Laughter made everything better. "Chocolate wand with a laughing charm on it."

"You're on a roll. Keep it coming," Fred encouraged.
"Jumping coins. They'd jump away as soon as you tried to pick them up."

George continued writing and ideas kept coming to Jack.

"Magical flute that makes everyone dance. I'd like to play it for Professor Snape."

"The Slytherin Tango." Fred clapped him on the back. "Kid, you're a fun inspiration. Keep feeding us these ideas and we'll hook you up with our products."

Jack grinned, feeling warm inside at their praise. "You know, my name is not Kid."

George looked up from the parchment. "We'll call you by your name if you can tell us apart correctly."

Jack smirked because he knew exactly how to tell them apart. They might have looked the same, but their magic signature was way different.

"George and Fred," he said while pointing at each, respectively.

Fred pursed his lips. "Could be luck, we'll keep testing you on that," he paused, "Jack."

Jack spent the rest of his free time with the twins and had so much fun with them, he nearly forgot about his English class. He made it just in time, and as he feared, it was boring. They used no magic at all!

Professor Blishwick walked with a limp and was as strict as Professor McGonagall but didn't have her sense of humor. Where McGonagall liked to dress in green and her hair was always in a tight bun, Blishwick preferred deep reds and wore a silly matching cone hat on her loose hair. She liked to make references to famous books and authors he'd never heard of and had an annoying habit of correcting every grammar mistake. She wouldn't even let him finish a sentence!

"You have lovely handwriting," she complimented Elsa while walking among the students and limped away to check on the next person.

Jack judged his own notebook. He never got praise. His handwriting was similar to his sister's, they both learned to write by copying passages from the elixir book, but his sister seemed to have picked a habit of making her letters even fancier and elegant as if each word was one of her art projects. Next to her, he was always going to be mediocre. He didn't begrudge her this though. He'd rather live in her shadow than without her.

"When?" she whispered while Professor Blishwick wasn't looking.

He shrugged. "Next weekend?"

She shook her head and huffed. "We could ask Peeves to help us. He could keep watch."

"He could get us in trouble on purpose," Jack whispered. "I don't want to involve him until I get to know him."

She narrowed her eye on him and pursed her lips.

"What?" he asked.

"Since when did you get so cautious?"

Professor Blishwick turned in their direction, and they both got back to writing though Jack couldn't focus on their assignment. The time ran out and she gathered their parchments even though he wasn't finished. Having the class only once a week meant that she felt entitled to give them a ton of homework. This time, they had to pick a biography book, read the whole thing, and write an essay about it.

After the class, Jack visited the library with Elsa, and naturally, as soon as they were alone in the biography aisle, she had to bring up the mirror again.

"I have a lot of homework," he said, pulling out the largest volume to make a point. It looked like it weighed a ton, but it wasn't heavy at all. It had to be a charm or something.

"Are you stalling?"

He shrugged. He still wasn't sure if he wanted Elsa to find that mirror. From the way Hermione described it, it sounded like it was a tricky object to deal with.

"Is it worth it all this trouble to find him? He might not even want us."

She scoffed. "I don't want to take chances. Can you imagine how furious Mother must be? Do you really want to face her alone?"

"We wouldn't be alone. I'm sure Hogwarts professors would protect us."

"Maybe they would. Maybe they wouldn't."

"McGonagall would. She likes us."

"What if Mother wins the fight?"

Jack frowned, thinking about the cool spells he'd seen his teachers do. Surely, someone here had to be powerful enough to take on the Queen of Winter. "What if she's not even looking for us? What if she's happy without us?"

It was Elsa's turn to frown. "I doubt it." She turned back to the shelves, picked one volume up, and flipped the pages. "Even if, don't you want to meet him?"

"I'm perfectly fine here," Jack answered and chose a book about a wizard from the middle ages, hoping that someone who had "Oddball" in the name would have an interesting story.

They went their separate ways, and Jack stopped by the Great Hall to check if Merlin was already down there or if he had to go back up to the dorm to wake him.

The evening feast had already started, and Merlin was there—sitting with the Harry Potter Fan Club. Jack passed him, trying to remain calm while fuming inside. It was as if he was competing for Merlin's time with Hermione and the Boy Who Had a Scar. What was up with everyone's obsession with Potter? Even Colin always tried to suck up to him and get his autograph, and would it really have been too much to sign the stupid picture? It would've taken Potter two seconds, and it would've made Colin happy. But no, he was too important for that. Colin made everyone happy. He deserved those two seconds.

His anger deflated as quickly as it came when he remembered his question game with Merlin a couple of days earlier. Now, when he thought about it, it felt a lot like an interrogation. Merlin didn't trust him. And why should he when Jack hid the most important detail about himself? Would Merlin still like him if he knew the truth?

Further down the table, Ginny Weasley sat alone so Jack invited himself over. He'd bumped into her as she was leaving the Hospital Wing after visiting Colin. She cared. Jack now liked her even more.

"Hi, Ginny."

She gave him a little wave and looked back at her food.

He tried to start some small talk. "Last weekend you were wearing a Quidditch shirt. Is that your favorite team?"

"Yeah," she smiled briefly. "Holyhead Harpies. Gwenog Jones is my idol."

"Have you seen any real games? I mean, outside of Hogwarts."

Her smile grew. "My whole family went last year to the World Cup game. Gwenog was unbeatable. What's your favorite team?"

"I don't have one yet. I'm thinking to try out for the Gryffindor team next year."

"Me too! What position?"

"I have no idea. I've never played." He ruffled his hair in frustration. What were his chances of making the team when he'd never played the game?

"I'd like to be a Chaser," Ginny offered and leaned forward. "I was just thinking that I could use a practice partner. Do you want to practice with me?"

Jack grinned broadly. "Yes!"

She extended her hand and he shook it. "Alright, partner. Next weekend, the game's on!"