Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Thirty
Iolanthe Astoria Potter, Legacy
Just three weeks separated Black Christmas from the Hogwarts Midwinter Christmas-New Year's break. Both Iolanthe and Rose recognized the danger. The lingering effects of the short holiday in Cornwall could dull the senses, leading to sloppy thinking. Just because break was coming did not mean the intervening weeks could be a time of slack or shifting to a gliding mode in or out of the classroom. Those gingerbread houses would have to look out for themselves, for the young scholar-witches knew they craved work, not sloth.
Besides, there was Zelda. The charismatic first year had made the Gryffindor quidditch team, joining Harry Potter in the ranks of the legends. She wasn't the seeker yet, but she had tried out for keeper. The only alternative to playing her would have been for the Gryffindor captain to impress another player and no one wanted to move from their current position to hang around the goals. Zelda, though, just wanted to get on a broom and play quidditch, any broom, any position.
The first match of the season was held in late September, against Ravenclaw. Some Gryffindor supporters thought that fortunate, since the plucky Zelda would get her place in history, and one could hope that another keeper would emerge before the championship chase began in earnest. Many in the grandstands laughed when they saw eleven-year-old Zelda, padded up and helmeted, kicking off on her ten-year-old Shooting Star to circle the field with the other Gryffindors. The Gryffindor stands soon erupted with chants of 'Go Zelda Go' that put a stop to the laughter. Even the Gryffindors, though, thought Zelda would be so outmatched, it was natural to assume the Lions' strategy would be reduced to getting to the snitch as quickly as possible
From her first defense of a shot on goal Zelda established that she was a keeper, and one to be reckoned with. Few present knew of her history flying around Potter Manor, so her elegance aloft was a surprise. Her technique was good too, for a beginner, and seemed to evolve even as the game was being played. She began with good, but very conventional keeping, anticipating lines of attack and getting into position before the quaffle got to the goal. When she deflected a shot she sent it away from any Ravenclaw who might have a chance for a quick put-back. She knew the job involved more than slapping the quaffle right back into traffic, which in itself was a surprise for the more knowledgeable fans. Her saves were consistent, and she continued playing better than most people predicted.
The Ravenclaw chasers began coordinating better as they warmed up and their game blood began to flow. Quaffles were passed two, three or four times as the chasers closed in, while Zelda sat immobile on her broom focused on what they did with the quaffle rather than the feints and decoy movements. Quidditch fans believe in an ephemeral concept called 'goal instinct' that holds keepers can cultivate a sense for where an attack will end with a shot, by extension sensing which of the three goals needs to be the focus of their defense. Like many sports theories, the existence of goal instinct can't be proven, but if there is such a thing, Zelda showed in Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw that she had it.
Ninety minutes in, Zelda and Gryffindor were ahead 120-0. The crowds erupted everywhere but the Ravenclaw grandstand, where the Blues sat, with each successful defense. 'Go Zelda Go!' went up again and again. The Ravenclaws hunched, numbly gripping the edge of their seats, hopes rising with every attack, to be dashed when Zelda stopped another quaffle, by catching it more often than not. A catch let her pass to the Gryffindor chaser who would carry the quaffle and initiate the next attack. As the game went on, Zelda analyzed the chasers and identified what she thought was a weakness in the Ravenclaw defense. Three stops in a row resulted in three Gryffindor goals, leading to some frantic flying-about by Ravenclaw's captain as he tried to adjust to Gryffindor's exploitation.
At two hours, ten minutes, Gryffindor went up 160-0. Ravenclaw's only chance to win was to capture the snitch after getting twenty points back, a very distant possibility. Still, someone had to capture the snitch to end the game. The seekers had been flying about, occasionally giving chase, but the snitch proved to be elusive, disappearing into a clutch of attacking chasers before coming out at an angle no one anticipated and putting unreachable distance between itself and the seekers before either could react.
Until, at two hours, thirty minutes, Dorcas Flyte saw the snitch slip between two Ravenclaws, a chaser and a beater, as they briefly flew formation to start a play. Dorcas flew a little circumspect route, out and around, keeping her speed down, but she didn't take her eyes off the two Ravenclaws. The number of fans below who understood quidditch was much smaller than the total number of fans, but those who knew the game smelled blood. Harry, sitting next to Ron Weasley, nudged Ron's elbow with his own.
"I see her," Ron said. "Does she see it?"
"Looks like it," Harry said, "Judging by the way she's flying."
The retired players on the ground weren't the only ones who saw the change in Dorcas Flyte's flying. The Ravenclaw seeker, Stuart Rodgers, caught her tracking his two teammates, and saw her break off when the snitch made its move. The snitch split off just a few degrees from the Ravenclaws' heading, and Dorcas did the same.
She pulled up slightly on her broomstick and lay forward to reduce drag. The broom accelerated with the snitch. Stuart Rodgers nudged his broom sideways, then sideways a little more, and was suddenly directly in front of the speeding snitch. He took both hands off his broom, maneuvering with his legs to get position, put his hands together and let Dorcas Flyte chase the snitch right into them. He rolled right and dove out of Dorcas' path, clutched the snitch to his chest and waited for it to stop its bumblebee buzzing.
Seekers who caught the snitch while their team was behind by more than one hundred-forty points usually did so by accident. There were some occasions when the catch was done out of gallantry. After flying for two hours and thirty minutes, Ravenclaw had not scored a goal. Gryffindor was already ahead by more than the points awarded for catching the snitch, and no one saw a way forward for Ravenclaw, including Stuart Rodgers. Nevertheless, the rules called for the game to go on until someone caught the snitch. Rodgers decided to put an end to the misery.
The stands were silent while Rodgers flew down to show Madame Hooch the snitch and officially end the game. Dorcas Flyte watched what was happening. She could not help thinking she had been cheated out of 'her' win, and flew a solitary pattern high above everyone else, keeping to herself while she cooled down.
Madame Hooch blew her whistle, declared the game over and Gryffindor the winner. The stands erupted in cheers. Zelda flew down carefully and joined the other Gryffindors on the ground. Her female teammates, with the exception of Dorcas, tossed their brooms aside, relieved her of her Shooting Star and lifted her onto their shoulders. Former Gryffindor great Ginny Weasley ignored protocol and leapt the barricade, joining the Lioness' in hoisting their newest heroine aloft.
Most snitches caught by the losing side are taken back to the clubhouse and locked away someplace out of sight, since no one wants to be reminded of the ignominy of a mistaken capture, or the exercise of mercy to spare a team further humiliation. Very occasionally, the losing seeker will give the snitch to their counterpart, in a kind of 'You earned this' gesture. The Gryffindors didn't notice Rodgers until he was nearly in their midst. He walked straight up, not to Dorcas Flyte, but to Zelda, and held out his hand.
"This is for you," he said, "Good game."
Zelda opened her hand, and Rodgers pressed the snitch into the palm of her thick keeper's glove. He nodded once, turned and walked back to the Ravenclaws.
Even Ginny Weasley, the tough veteran of ten seasons of professional quidditch, stood slack-jawed, wondering what she had just witnessed. Dorcas Flyte walked by, trailing her broom.
"Good game, Davis," she said, heading for the changing room without breaking stride, or turning her head.
"Yeah, good game, Davis," said Harry as he walked up.
Ron was right behind, offering a congratulatory handshake.
"The first of many," Ron said, making Zelda blush.
Neville Longbottom walked up and quietly joined the group.
"Could we…?" he asked, drawing a circle with his finger meaning he wanted a word with Ron, Ginny and Harry. He pulled them aside so they could keep their conversation to themselves.
"Rumor has it there will be a small reception of sorts for the winners starting in fifteen or twenty minutes," Neville began. "Oddly enough, the venue will be…"
"The Gryffindor common room," said Ron, Ginny and Harry, as one.
"Which, by coincidence, is known to the three of you. The password is a compound—cock's comb," said Neville. "If you could make it, just for a few minutes, it would mean a lot to them."
Of course they went, after that personal invitation from the head of house. They waited for Zelda to change and let her lead the way, so the party that entered the Gryffindor common room filed in as such: Zelda Davis, Ginny Weasley, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter. The entrance was perfectly timed and the noise in the tower was deafening. Neville finally stood on the second step of the flight up to the dormitories and signaled for quiet.
"Well, done, team," Neville began, before being cut off again.
"Yes, alright, bear with me," Neville said when he'd reestablished order. "This one will be the subject of many quidditch stories for years to come and you were all there to see it, so savor the moment. Now, when we leave this room, let us remember the game ended with a gallant play by Ravenclaw's seeker. Ravenclaw was outplayed today, but they never quit, and they deserve our respect. Even though Rodgers made the decision for all of them, they flew off with their heads up. Let's treat them with some grace.
"Okay, enough preaching," Neville said, his tone sounding a little peppier. "There are some honored guests with us this afternoon, all Gryffindor alumni who have worn crimson robes on the pitch. Let me introduce Ronald Weasley, keeper! Harry Potter, seeker! And the greatest Gryffindor chaser in history, AND ten-season veteran Holyhead Harpy, Gin-ny We-e-e-eas-ley!"
The tower started vibrating all over again as soon as Neville's very credible announcing turn finished. Ginny, Harry and Ron formed an informal honor guard around Zelda, keeping the boisterous Gryffindor scrum at bay. Everyone wanted to shake hands, so Zelda got the full treatment, handshake, congratulations, and occasional pats, until Zelda turned to speak to Ginny.
"I'm supposed to see Mum and Dad in the Great Hall," she said.
"Oh, well, we'd better get you down there then," Ginny replied. Ginny motioned to Neville. "Blaise and Tracey are supposed to be downstairs. It's time for us to get out of here and let the youngsters have their party. Thanks for inviting us."
"I'm taking Zelda to find her parents," Ginny said to Ron as she pointed Zelda toward the portrait hole. "You and Harry shake hands and block for us for a few minutes."
Ron flashed a huge smile and nodded. Normally, quidditch fans wanted Ginny above all others. Who wouldn't? Even Ron had to admit she still had the looks, and the records. He'd just go ahead and enjoy the next few minutes until the Gryffindors got their fill of shaking hands with the scrubs. Rose emerged from the partying Gryffindors and joined Harry and Ron, miming Ron shaking hands and exchanging greetings. Ron didn't even fake taking offense.
Before long, Harry and Ron started feeling like they'd worn out their welcome, shook the last few hands offered, collected Rose, and followed in Ginny's wake.
"Coming?" Ron asked. "A little stop in the Great Hall? No telling who you'll see there. You won't miss anything, not in a common room quidditich celebration, at least in my experience."
Was that Harry stifling a laugh?
"What a game," Ron said as they descended a staircase. When they were students, that particular one moved a lot, consistently picking the worst possible time.
"She didn't miss once," Harry said. "Did you see her selecting the chaser after she caught the quaffle? She was setting up the play at the other end by choosing which chaser to pass to! She's barely practiced with them. How did she figure that out?"
"I don't know," Ron said. "It took a while for me to catch on to what she was doing. That's some pretty sophisticated quidditch, even for a sixth or seventh year. Uncanny."
Rose walked along with them, confining her part of the conversation to 'Mmm-hmm!' which she used sparingly. Rose was always amazed by the amount of time Ron, Charley and Harry could spend talking about quidditch. She wondered if she would have a like subject in twenty or thirty years, something she rambled on and on about with Iolanthe, even though it no longer had any bearing on their lives. Reflecting on the conversation later that evening, Rose admitted to herself she'd never heard of keepers analyzing defenses and determining attack strategy. Perhaps, she thought, the inner game of quidditch was more interesting than the raucous, visible flying-about she'd assumed it to be.
Harry, Rose and Ron found Ginny with Blaise, Tracey and Zelda all sitting with Millicent at the end of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.
"So," Harry said, beaming at Zelda. "May I say, we are so happy to have you in Gryffindor?"
Ron, Ginny and Rose muttered affirmations, despite the clutch of Slytherins. Zelda smiled and looked down.
"Did you bring the snitch?" Ron asked. Blaise reached into his pocket and produced the snitch.
"It was given to me for safe-keeping," he said, his voice coming out sounding unusually husky.
Iolanthe and Scorpius wandered in.
"Aha!" Iolanthe said, walking up and pulling Zelda to her. "Word is you're woman of the year, at least in Gryffindor, Zelda Davis."
"Congratulations, that really was a great game," Scorpius added as he turned and gave a little nod. "Rose."
"Scorpius."
Iolanthe got a hug from Tracey and shook hands with Blaise.
"Father," Iolanthe offered.
"Iolanthe Astoria," Harry said. "Your Mum says hello, and she loves you."
Iolanthe blinked her eyes twice or three times, very rapidly. Then she gave in to the emotion and clamped her arms around Harry, squeezing very hard.
"Same to her," Iolanthe whispered.
"Tomorrow?" she asked Zelda after she broke from Harry, and she and Scorpius turned to go.
"Of course," said Zelda.
"What's tomorrow?" Tracey asked.
"Books," Zelda said. "It's our day to sit down with Iolanthe, Rose and Scorpius and go over what we did last week. I have to keep Professor Longbottom's confidence I can play and study both. No marks, no quidditch."
"Oh, I like Professor Longbottom's approach," Tracey said.
"We heard rumors," came a voice from outside the great doors. Harry turned and saw Hugo and James stroll in. It was less than a month and they'd changed, almost transfigured, Harry thought.
Hugo looked stretched out, somehow. Harry thought he might have lost a little weight. James had been at Hogwarts a very short time but had found his weekend wardrobe—khaki trousers, black tee, black and yellow plaid wool overshirt, unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms.
"Well," Harry said, fists on hips, looking the youngsters up and down. "Do you run the place yet?"
"Nah," said James. "I think that's Iolanthe."
Hugo nodded.
"For a little while longer," Hugo said.
There were three or four mini-reunions happening simultaneously, although no one was counting. Down in the kitchens, Winky heard there might be a need for refreshments, and showed up with two carafes, tea and coffee, and an offer of hot chocolate were anyone interested.
The adults had traveling ahead and the students had curfews and lights-out. The group broke up with another round of congratulations for Zelda and promises for return visits and more quidditch, promises that were kept through the fall and early winter.
Gryffindor had one quidditch match between Black Christmas and the Christmas-New Year's break. Slytherin. Harry had come to Gryffindor's Saturday matches, even bringing Daphne once. That hadn't worked as well as he'd have liked, because Daphne, pregnancy, quidditch and the wooden benches proved to be an uncomfortable combination, so they'd left after forty minutes.
Gryffindor had won every match but one since Zelda's astonishing debut against Ravenclaw. The one loss had come on an early snitch capture by Slytherin's seeker. It was not a fluke, exactly, but the snitch wasn't flying the most deceptive course, Slytherin's seeker got position on Dorcas Flyte, the one-hundred-fifty points for catching the snitch were more than adequate, and the match was over at thirty-two minutes. Nothing to be done about it, and the keepers didn't really figure in the outcome.
Zelda, the youngest Gryffindor player, was devastated. Two of the upper class girls sat down on either side of Zelda on the changing room bench.
"Zelda, buck up," said one.
"You didn't do anything wrong," said the other. "You played a perfect game at your end. There was nothing you could do."
"We weren't just playing Slytherin today," said the first girl. "We put our skills up against theirs and we see what shakes out. BUT, there are three types of projectiles flying around out there, and a huge element of chance. You can't account for all that. You can't overcome it."
"Quidditch is a metaphor for Life," said the second girl, breaking into a very satisfied-looking smile. "That's why we play."
Normally, December quidditch in Scotland was just what it sounded like. Cold, windy, half-frozen, chance of snow. Chance of sleet, for that matter. Hands may freeze around broomsticks, please dress accordingly.
Harry didn't want to go to the December match, even if it was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. He thought his place was with Daphne, who was still seeing a limited number of patients at St. Mungo's, but was expected to move to Greengrass Manor shortly after New Year's.
The arrangements were very much the same as for Iolanthe and James, although the nursery setup had two of everything this time. The runes had been saying they were getting boys, so blue predominated. Daphne's healer and the midwife talked after each exam. Arrangements were in place to accommodate a change in plan and delivery at St. Mungo's if medical necessity dictated, but Daphne was very attached to Greengrass Manor, Kendra and Tracey, and was counting on a no-complications delivery and welcome for her newcomers.
"Harry Potter, I do not need you here," Daphne said at one point. "This is December. February is two months off. If you can't read a calendar have Mercury explain it to you."
"Mrs. Potter," Harry began, or tried to.
"MISTER POTTER," Daphne came back, "You aren't going to pull rank on me, in my condition, are you? As I lay back accommodating these, these, TWINS you implanted in me, unable to stand and fight, as I am? Did I mention my condition?"
"You did, thanks so much for the reminder, and I promise not to do that," Harry said. "You know I am eternally grateful for the wisdom you've dispensed, going back, how many years? I lose track. But that isn't the point, at least not entirely. I feel my place is here, running your errands and so on, while you're in your condition, not in Scotland watching students play a students' game in abominable weather. Here, allow me to plump that pillow."
"Thank-you, that really is better," Daphne said, sinking back, "Even if you were trying to curry favor with a woman whose combative skills are temporarily degraded due to her condition. Can we wrap this up? My feet will appreciate a rub as soon as we're done but if I have to make my case while you're rubbing I'll be at a disadvantage. Why don't we just take it as read you'll go to the match with Father and Tracey, bundle up and endure the same weather Zelda will be enduring. You're the Gryffindor! She's flying for you, for Merlin's sake!"
"It's not the weather," Harry said, then he added, "As you well know."
"Oh, Harry Potter, no wonder your daughter thinks she can bend dragons to her will," Daphne said. "I don't need you here. It's Zelda. She's a starting quidditch player. She's kept Gryffindor competitive all season as a first-year. Does that resonate with you? Potter? Bane of Slytherin quidditch?"
"That is completely unfair," Harry said. "Especially coming from a self-confessed non-quidditch fan. The look on your face says you know it, too."
"Do you know what, Harry Potter? I don't really worry, at times like this, whether it is fair or not. I think you're worried the wee ones will come early and you'll be off in Scotland watching quidditch while I am attended by my witches in your absence," Daphne said. "You fear a lifetime of whispers behind cupped hands, 'There goes Harry Potter, he was off in Scotland watching quidditch when his wife was in labor, poor dear.' That's what I think."
"It would be true," Harry pointed out, thinking he was using logic. "One hundred percent. The gossips would be right for a change."
"Only if I did go into labor, which I'm not going to do," Daphne said. "Now, if you'll just agree to do that one little thing, go up to Hogwarts and watch a quidditch match, something you've successfully accomplished many times before, then I'll take my foot rub. Please fill my water glass before you start, and kindly add another lemon wedge. Thank-you."
He'd been out-maneuvered, not defeated in an honest debate, Harry knew, but it was time to yield. Daphne made good points. She always made good points. Harry just thought he'd ought to be close by, just in the event…of what? Even if Daphne did go into labor, there should be plenty of time to send for Harry, and for him to get back to Potter Manor.
Besides, if he were at Hogwarts, and word arrived to return, posthaste, he would be able to gather Iolanthe and James and bring them back as well. Instructional time before break would be down to hours, literally, by the day of the match. Harry's precocious students would do fine without their last few class sessions, and he was pretty sure he could negotiate their release with the faculty and administration.
Harry surrendered with all possible grace and began planning the quidditch trip. An owl was sent to each Potter with a presumptive outline of the day's schedule, footnoting the possible contingency of an early visit from the stork. Tracey owled Zelda and assured her she and Harry would be there to watch her match, Blaise having some business commitments he couldn't escape.
Saturday was game day, and there could not have been a more perfect December day for quidditch if one had been custom-designed and manufactured. A small area of high pressure formed over the Atlantic, crossed Ireland in the wee hours and was passing over Hogwarts for most of Saturday. Townspeople from Hogsmeade donned tweed capes and went around the shops greeting friends and neighbors. Some observed the weather could have been charmed in recognition of the big match at the quidditch grounds. The air was chilly, but not bitter cold, wind was negligible, and what clouds came by were high up and fluffy. Goggles to combat tearing-up were the only cold-weather gear the players would need.
Harry and Tracey planned to sit with Gryffindor. Tracey declined Harry's offer of a crimson and gold scarf. She had the good manners not to wear green and silver while sitting with the Gryffindors, although her tweed cape was a tasteful, subdued green and light gray pattern. Harry even got James and Hugo to join them, in a kind of extended family section.
Iolanthe and Scorpius wouldn't hear of sitting anywhere but the Slytherin stands, of course, Zelda or no Zelda. Both of them still harbored a bit of Walburga Black's disbelief that the sorting hat could rob them of Zelda. As much as they shared Zelda's joy in getting to play, it hurt to see her in that crimson robe.
The day was close to perfect for mid-winter quidditch. A little more breeze would have been nice, to lift the pennants atop their poles, but Slytherin vs. Gryffindor didn't require a lot of pageantry to put some drama into the match.
Neville Longbottom walked to the pitch with Millicent Bulstrode and Ginny Weasley. The party stopped where the paths to the spectator sections branched.
"Professor Bulstrode," Neville said, extending his hand.
Students flowed around them on both sides, so the two observed the formalities.
"Professor Longbottom," Millicent replied, taking a firm hold.
"Good luck," Neville said.
"Good luck," Millicent returned.
"So, Ginny?" Neville asked, extending an implicit invitation to sit with the Gryffindors.
Millicent's grip bore down on Neville's calloused gardener's hand.
"Prior commitment, I'm afraid, Professor," Millicent said. "Best to Hannah."
Ginny had to turn away to preserve everyone's dignity.
Neville found Harry, James, Rose, Hugo and Tracey in the Gryffindor section. Fabio sat with his Slytherin grandchildren, staking a Potter-Greengrass claim on Slytherin to complement the one across the way. The match commenced with some flying about, setting up of plays that were quickly broken up, exchange of the quaffle and repetition at the opposite end. Slytherin's shots on goal were perfunctory.
Zelda deflected two quaffles without much difficulty, got position on a third, and caught it. She passed to the first chaser flying past. The chaser took off down the right side, and the other two Gryffindors formed up behind her. The Slytherin beaters tried deflecting the bludgers into the Gryffindors, but the bludgers went well wide. Crossing the half mark, the lead chaser turned just left of a course straight for the middle Slytherin goal. The second stayed with her, but the third went right. The leader tossed the quaffle with a no-look backwards pass and bore on, breaking up the Slytherin defense. The second chaser barely touched the quaffle, throwing it right and slightly upwards, connecting with the breaking chaser who put it through the right hand goal, catching the Slytherin keeper out of position.
It was a perfectly-executed scoring play. The lead chaser circled back to the Gryffindor goal to set up for defense, giving Zelda a "Well-played, Davis," as she flew by. The Slytherins found their offense, flying at the Gryffindor goals, and Zelda, at furious speed whenever they got the quaffle. Zelda wasn't keeping track, but the statisticians were, and she defended fifty-nine times in the first sixty minutes, giving up one score.
Slytherin's chasers were wearing themselves out in the sustained attack, getting very little to show for it. Someone passed a bag down their row, and Harry reached in, eyes on the game and another Slytherin attack. He pulled out a button, three inches across, a crimson field with gold letters that spelled out 'Go Zelda Go!'
Harry offered the first button to Tracey, who accepted it, sat there looking at it, sighed, and fastened it to her cape. She wondered if any Slytherin would ever speak to her again.
At sixty-eight minutes, Tracey watched as Zelda caught a shot and sat on her broomstick, shifting the quaffle from hand to hand. She skipped the first chaser, and the second, and the third. The first chaser had flown past and followed with a tight, one-half figure-eight, flashed by in the opposite direction and took a very snappy pass from Zelda.
The Slytherins were stuck out of position, the full length of the field. Gryffindor's chaser did not hang around waiting for a follow-up, but lay down on her broom and flew straight at the center Slytherin goal. The Slytherin keeper had no options but to hold position in front of the chaser. Two feints and one brief braking maneuver and Gryffindor had ten more points.
Tracey kept watching Zelda, even though the play had moved down the pitch. Zelda sat on her broomstick, blew into her cupped hands, clapped them together, and used them for a megaphone.
"She's doing everything with her hands but hanging onto that broom!" Tracey said to Harry, who'd been fixated on the Gryffindor attack like nearly everyone else in the stands.
"Ah, I wouldn't worry," Harry assured Tracey. "It's just a Shooting Star, and she's got a good seat."
Tracey didn't share Harry's confidence but had to acknowledge to herself there really wasn't anything she could do right at that moment. The Slytherins were charging the Gryffindor goals, and Zelda sucked in her breath and got in position to defend, eyes locked on the quaffle, both hands free, out away from her broom about waist high. Tracey was finally inspired to join in:
"GO ZELDA GO! GO ZELDA GO!"
The game wasn't really that dramatic, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin or not, other than Zelda's performance. Later, when the numbers were totaled, it was found she had set a school record for consecutive successful defenses, earning a place for her name on a quaffle in the school trophy case.
The game ended when Dorcas Flyte captured the snitch. Even that wasn't very dramatic. The Slytherin chaser was flying around at the opposite end of the field when the snitch popped up in front of Dorcas. It was fast, but it flew straight and level and Dorcas caught up to it before her counterpart could get to the action. Madame Hooch blew her whistle and declared the game over. The players flew down to the field, Zelda coming down slowly and carefully in all the traffic. A few 'Go Zelda Go' cheers went up here and there.
Zelda stopped and hovered right in front of Tracey while she waited for a space to open.
"Hold onto that broom!" Tracey shouted.
Zelda waved, then, without taking hold of the broomstick, she did a no-hands loop-the-loop that looked like it ought to be physically impossible, stabilized and gave Tracey a big smile before letting the broom drift down to the pitch.
Zelda was surrounded by the Gryffindor chasers, all clapping her on the back and congratulating her on her game. The chasers all credited the twelve-year old Zelda with their scoring success since the beginning of the season. She had a way of mixing up her passes that kept opposing defenses from settling into a routine of defeating the same attack over and over. Thanks to Zelda's strategy, Gryffindor was regularly scoring over one hundred-fifty points, and her goal keeping was making it very difficult for the other teams to stay close.
As had nearly become tradition, Dorcas Flyte walked past the celebrating Gryffindors without a word and went straight to the change area.
Harry and Tracey were milling around the pitch, shaking hands with classmates and acquaintances when Hugo and James showed up with Iolanthe, Scorpius and Fabio. Tracey saw Iolanthe staring at her Go Zelda Go! button and reached up to take it off.
"Don't, Tracey, please," Iolanthe said, nearly begging. She looked around and didn't see Zelda. "Changing?"
"Yes, in there," Tracey nodded her head in the direction of Gryffindor's changing rooms.
"I need one," Iolanthe muttered. "Where'd you get them?"
"Someone passed a bag of them through the stands," Harry said. "You can have mine. I expect you'll want to collect it when you get home for break."
A flashbulb went off as the group was standing there talking.
"That's very sensitive and accommodating of you, Father," Iolanthe said. A bowtruckle emerged from a fold in Iolanthe's Slytherin cape and looked around. James extended a finger and the little twig climbed aboard, taking up a position on James' shoulder.
Zelda came up, trotting all the way from the changing room exit into a massive hug from Tracey.
"Great game, Zelda!" went around the group.
"So, post-match plans?" Harry asked. "Can I assume Zelda is required in the common room, at least for a few minutes?"
"Uh, sort of," Zelda confessed.
"How about tea in my room?" Millicent suggested. "You'll all fit."
"Can you meet us at Professor Bulstrode's room when you're done?" Tracey asked.
"Sure," said Zelda, before trotting off to join some teammates heading for the castle.
Harry and Tracey fell in with Millicent, Ginny followed along with Hugo and James, and Neville, Fabio, Rose, Scorpius and Iolanthe brought up the rear. Harry took note of some older Slytherins standing in a group off the path, assessed they weren't reconstituted Dark Army types, and walked on.
Millicent's rooms were commodious, but not ostentatious. Unlike some of the faculty, Millicent had a life outside Hogwarts. She didn't have a lot of patience for frou-frou, other than a plaque with the Slytherin serpent in silver on a field of emerald green, and a magical photo of Ginny in an ornate frame on her desk. The photo showed Ginny in late career, on a broom with a Harpies robe fluttering behind her. Harry thought of Colin Creevy's photo of him in Daphne's room at Greengrass Manor and had to will himself to focus on what was going on around him.
Millicent called for Winky and arranged for tea and some vanilla wafers. There wasn't a plan, but before long some affinity groups had formed. Millicent and Harry talked basic dueling forms with Hugo. Neville and Fabio bemoaned the state of the gardening column in the Daily Prophet while James stood there taking in every word. Iolanthe, Rose and Scorpius chatted up Tracey while they waited for Zelda. Harry noticed the end of some knitting project peeking out of Rose's bag, something in emerald green.
Zelda arrived, face flushed, and crossed the room to Tracey.
"It's not official," she burst out, "BUT, the stats say I set a school record!"
"That's fantastic, sweetheart," Tracey said, "Did they say for what?"
"Most consecutive saves in a game," Zelda said. "It has to be confirmed first, of course."
"Of course it does," Tracey said. "One way or the other, you're a star."
The little party broke up shortly afterwards, everyone giving Zelda one last 'Great game, Zelda' before splitting off in four or five different directions. Harry, Tracey and Fabio would be walking toward Hogsmeade to get outside the Hogwarts wards before apparating to Potter Manor. Iolanthe and James walked as far as the great doors with them.
"Tell Mother," Iolanthe began, as she and Harry stopped for a hug and good-bye. She didn't get any further.
"Break's right around the corner," Harry said, holding Iolanthe. "Just do what you're doing for a few more days and we'll all be together. I'll give your mum your message."
"I didn't give it to you yet," Iolanthe said, a little chuckle just audible in her voice.
"Oh, I think I know what it is by now," Harry said. "James."
James and Harry shook hands.
Iolanthe got back to the dungeons and pulled out Astoria's copy of The Odyssey. Artemis was right, Odysseus was the best role model for mortals. When Iolanthe needed a reset, she spent a little time with Odysseus, and, she was certain, Astoria.
Iolanthe hadn't been reading long when Lissette Lestrange poked her head into the room. She looked around.
"Are you alone?" she asked.
"Just me," Iolanthe answered. "What's up?"
"Can you come to the Owlery?" Lissette asked, her voice unnaturally low. "Fifteen minutes?"
"I suppose," Iolanthe said, meaning to ask what was on Lissette's mind, but Lissette was already gone.
Fifteen minutes later, Iolanthe arrived at the top of the staircase that opened onto the owlery. Lissette was already there.
"Are you alone?" Lissette asked again, looking out onto the landing.
"Yes," said Iolanthe, stepping aside as Lissette looked out to confirm what Iolanthe had said. "Why the cloak and dagger?"
"Iolanthe," said Lissette, "Please listen. I've been warned to stay away from you. I said something about knowing you at a family thing, months ago. I forgot all about it. Today, after we nodded when you all walked by, someone pulled me aside and told me to stay well clear, of you and all the Potters. I asked what they meant. All I got was a look."
Iolanthe leaned back against the stone wall.
After thinking a moment she asked, "Is this about that financial deal crack-up they blame on Harry? He wasn't even in government when that happened."
"I don't know," Lissette said. "There was something about the way it was said. I've been told to stay clear, and there are ways they can find out if I'm not. Slytherins, you know."
"You're scared?" Iolanthe asked.
"A bit," Lissette answered. Iolanthe looked at the sliver of moon just starting to appear above the horizon. Lissette sounded like she was more than a bit scared.
"Well, then, let's agree we'll comply," Iolanthe said. "They can't object to that. Opposite ends of the table at meals, only one of us in the common room at a time. If you need to talk, just leave a note under my pillow. I'll check it whenever I'm in the room. Put down the time you want to see me. Draw a little moon for the owlery. A sun means the astronomy tower. We can go to either of those separately, and cancel if there is anyone else around. Otherwise, as long as you're uncomfortable with the situation, we barely know one another, and never speak."
"That works," Lissette said. "I'm so sorry, Iolanthe."
Iolanthe looked out and down the staircase. Seeing no one, she stepped over to Lissette and gave her a little hug.
"Don't be scared," Iolanthe said. "We'll work it out. You have exams to focus on. Now, you go first. I've got a story if anyone shows up. I'm just here checking up on the Black owls."
Lissette took fifteen minutes to check on the owls. Her story wasn't far from the truth. She made sure to bring plenty of jerky or bacon up to the owlery several times a week, just to make sure the flock was getting its nutrition. She knew most of the names, and the ones she didn't know did not seem to mind being Big Guy and Sweetheart.
Lissette kept her ears open and her mouth shut about all things Potter. The two didn't talk again until just before Christmas break. Iolanthe slipped her hand under her pillow one afternoon and found a little square of parchment.
"7:00," it said, next to a sun with a smiling face.
Iolanthe left the common room a little before seven, a library book under her arm. The book was filled with star charts for Scotland. Iolanthe would just go by the astronomy tower to check a few things with the instruments up there, then take the book back to the library.
Iolanthe stood on a balcony that had a good view of the stairs and opened her book. She waited for five minutes and no one came up behind her. She did a circuit of the top floor and was satisfied she was alone. Lissette arrived a few minutes after seven.
"Over here," Iolanthe spoke from a shadowy corner next to the balcony.
"Merry Christmas," Iolanthe said when Lissette got to her corner.
"Merry Christmas," Lissette said. "Happy New Year."
"Are we done?" Iolanthe asked.
"No—" Lissette began, before she got the joke. "Iolanthe! That's funny."
"Here," Iolanthe said, moving over. "Let me stand there, you take the shadow."
Iolanthe vacated her corner and moved to a spot nearer the balcony, keeping her open book visible. She drew her wand and cast muffliato. If a hostile party spotted them together at least they wouldn't overhear their conversation.
"So—" Iolanthe said, making it a question.
"There are people who want to make some changes at the ministry," Lissette began. "Kingsley Shacklebolt has been there too long, he and his gang need to get out and give someone else a turn, the usual political talk. It sounds like your father in particular annoys them."
"Do you know who or why?" Iolanthe asked.
"Power. Money. Greed. A little more tolerance for Dark Magic, nothing scary, just convenience' sake," Lissette said. "I think we both know where that leads. Who is more difficult. Your friend Goyle fancies himself a budding observer of the magical political scene, turns to the editorials in the Daily Prophet first thing, shoves bacon in his mouth while he's reading the opinions at breakfast. He's been dropping little hints about shifts in magical viewpoints. He sounds harmless. He could still be right."
Iolanthe looked at Lissette, trying to decide if Lissette was onto something or if she'd been affected by the mysterious nature of Harry's job, let herself get caught up in the romance, and fabricated a conspiracy out of odd coincidences and half-facts.
"Lissette, we have to look out for you," Iolanthe said. "Thank you for telling me. Now, we'll keep our distance as usual. Don't go exposing yourself over break. Don't ask questions or insert yourself into conversations because you think you heard something suspicious. If you do you'll call attention to yourself, and you don't want that. Understand? If we're lucky, there won't be one more comment that causes you concern.
"Where's your next stop?" Iolanthe asked.
"Back to the common room," Lissette answered.
"Here," Iolanthe said, holding out some sheets of parchment she'd kept under the cover of her book. The sheets had some astronomical data from homework Iolanthe had done.
"In case you get stopped and they demand to know what you were doing up here. Now, go on back and we'll get together when we come back from break."
Iolanthe waited twenty minutes, occupying her time identifying stars and recording their elevations. She thought it might be fun to walk home to Devon from Scotland at Easter break, navigating by the stars. She resolved to talk it over with Daphne as soon as she got home.