Saturday was Quidditch day. First game of the year for the House tournament. And I started the day arguing.

"Four teams," I was saying to Ron and Wayne. "Four. That's it. I'm just saying, maybe open it up to have more teams, more players, make it more like the higher leagues."

"But there's only four houses," Ron said.

"Ron, I know that, but you gotta admit, in a school with hundreds of students, we could have a few more teams," I said.

"Why not make your own league?" Wayne asked. When Ron and I glanced at him, Wayne was idly twisting his wand through his fingers, his usual lazy smile on his face. "Doesn't have to be official. Just something for us?"

"Because I'm doing like a million other things already," I said. Then I frowned. "Though… I do need practice flying."

"Better than that 'feetball' you tried to teach us," Ron grumbled.

"It's football, and that wasn't the real thing," Dean Thomas butt in, glaring at me. "That's just rugby with padding."

"Look, just because you two can't handle a real man's sport-" Both Ron and Dean started shouting. I yelled over them defiantly. "I said what I said! I said what I said!"

As we were having a very dignified discussion, Harry was slowly eating nearby, breathing deeply. I stopped yelling to lean over and jostle his shoulder. "Hey, you okay, bro?"

Harry glanced at me. After a thoughtful look, finally he shrugged. "Yeah. Just more nervous than I expected. I mean… I've been in real fights before. Why am I so nervous?"

"Probably because there'll be people watching, eh?" Seamus poured some ketchup on his sausages as Harry and I looked at him. "If you fall, we'll all see, right?"

"...Seamus, you are truly the wisest of us all," I said with a sigh as Harry's face fell.

Seamus cheerily bit into a sausage and talked around it. "Thanks, mate!"

"Look, Harry. You'll be fine," I told him.

"How do you know?"

"Because you've been putting the work in, you're fit, fast, and you've got everything you need. All you have to do is catch one ball. If some idiot tries to hit you, you can easily avoid them. You have everything you need. Just breathe before the match. Meditate if you have to."

Harry nodded. "Right. Right. Just meditate. Oh boy."

He swallowed some food. As he did, I looked over at the teachers table.

My eyes landed on Quirrell. Not today mate. You aren't touching my friend.

"Good luck, Potter," Daphne's voice drew my attention. She, Tracey, and Blaise were standing together, on their way to their seats. "I hope you lose, but I'm sure you will do very well."

"You sure Gryffindor won't just kick your team's butts?" Ron said snidely.

"Honestly, this inter-house rivalry is so dumb," I sighed. "Anyways, you know Harry. He's fast as fuck."

Daphne nodded, sighing, while Blaise seemed pained.

"Yes. He really is," Blaise looked over at the Slytherin Quidditch team. "I think our own team might be a bit overconfident."

I looked at them. Marcus Flint was leering at Harry, and ran a finger over his throat. Heh. Wait till he sees how Harry flies in this universe.

Once we got out to the Quidditch match, we all wished Harry good luck and I watched him go to join his team. Then I followed the others along.

"Why did you bring Danny along?" Susan asked me, watching the war vet pet on my shoulder bounce along.

"Hoot," my not owl said in as owl-like a manner as he could.

"He's my good luck charm."

"That's a good idea," Ron said, eyeing Danny. "Whatever he survived to give him that look, he had to be pretty lucky."

I looked over at Danny. He looked at me with his left eye and at Hermione with his right, who seemed unnerved by that.

Despite my foreknowledge, I couldn't plan for everything. I knew Quirrell messed with Harry's broom at one point. I didn't know when, I didn't know if he had an exact reason why beyond 'maybe I'll kill him', and I didn't know where Quirrell would be sitting. I just knew it happened.

So my plan, basically, was to wait until I saw that asshole mumbling like crazy, then I'd walk over and hit him with the surprise.

Simple plans have the least chance of failing after all.

Both teams met in the center of the field. I watched with the cheering students, Ron yelling his head off next to me, Susan and Hermione chatting behind me, Sue watching in rapture as the brooms lifted off.

Harry got on his broom. It lifted up. And he seemed to blur.

Intellectually, I knew his broom wasn't faster than it had been in the movies and books. But his body was different here. Harry had been training for over two years, honing himself like a blade. Combine that with a natural aptitude for flight and Oliver Wood's training?

Harry turned into a damn leaf on the wind. He ran around the field in rings, zipping around bludgers, and just barely staying slow enough for me to catch sight of him.

I almost felt bad for him. All that speed and grace, and his job was to just float up above and wait for a game ending ball.

Meanwhile, the others got to have more consistent fun. A bludger went zooming through the air. Fred zipped over to it. He swung his bat.

I felt a savage grin on my face at the sight of the iron ball acting like it got shot out of a cannon. The Slytherin beater tried to hit it back, only to go spinning in the air on impact from a ball moving a bit faster than he was ready for.

The bludger zoomed back. George swung a blow of his own, and hit it hard enough to send a Slytherin chaser flipping through the air when it hit him.

Fred and George had spent a full month training their bat skills. I'd walked them through every club exercise I knew, but they were the ones who put the work in. I was proud of them.

And damn, they could hit like demons now.

With Harry zipping around high above, and Fred and George giving their best shot at breaking the bludgers, I turned my focus to the others. Credit to Wood, he trained his chasers well.

Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet were all pretty damn good. Despite my lack of interest in sports that didn't let you hit people, I could appreciate the skill.

Oliver himself had good reaction time, catching the Quaffle with ease a lot of the time.

Still, Slytherin had a reputation for winning. They were all pretty damn good. Say what you will, Quidditch loves aggressive plays, and the boys in the Slytherin team were pretty damn aggressive. I could see why they were the reigning champs. Although…

"Hey Ron," I asked, suddenly confused as hell while watching the game. "Gryffindor hasn't won a championship since Charlie left right?"

"Right!" Ron called over the cacophony of sound. "But we have a good chance this year, look at them go!"

"Right, right. Ron, when did Charlie leave?"

"Last year?"

"When did he join the team?"

"Five years ago! WOO, nice one Angelina!"

Hermione looked at me, sharing my confusion. We looked over at Ron and Wayne, neither of whom had noticed anything.
"Ron-" I began to say.

Then I saw Quirrell start muttering, and I turned and moved on to begin my part.

Hopefully, while I moved, I could depend on Harry to do his thing.

"Ready Danny?" I asked him.

"Hoot-hoot!"

Me and my potoo against a teacher and a dark lord. Should be fun.

Harry Potter

Flying was heavenly everytime.

Harry dived through the air, zipping over the stands. He was keeping an eye out for the snitch of course, but there was no reason not to have fun at the same time.

A bludger approached him. Harry twisted out of the way, then dived past Fred who smacked the bludger away. Harry had to admit, despite Gar having a point about the unfairness of seekers, he loved the role. He could fly as he pleased, ducking bludgers and zipping between players, and once he found the snitch he'd be able to chase it.

It was a blast. Flying on a broom reminded him of Star Wars. Flying through the Death Star trenches. Harry dreamed about being a pilot, flying through space. Maybe he could still do it one day?

This was good enough for now.

As if responding to his thoughts, his Nimbus began to rise upward. Outside of his control?

It was subtle at first. Then the Nimbus began to jump and twist under him, and a hint of fear entered him. The Nimbus moved into a roll. Harry grabbed on tightly, clenching with his legs, and trying to hold with his fingers, the broom bouncing, twirling, trying to kick him off like a bull in a rodeo.

Then Danny the Potoo went shooting past him. Harry's eyes followed the bird for a moment, then he had to grab onto the broom again when it tried to kick him off. He forced himself to move with the broom, rather than get kicked off.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Danny fly towards the crowd. The bird zipped over the audience, then towards Professor Quirrell, who was watching Harry with the rest of the teachers and students around him.

So Quirrell didn't expect Gar's war veteran of a bird to fly towards his face like a feathered missile. Danny twisted at the last moment, brushing Quirrell with a face full of feathers.

Even in the distance, Harry could hear Quirrell scream in shock and horror as he flew back, hitting Snape in the face in his panic. Both men dropped to the ground.

And Harry's broom stopped bucking. At the same time, Harry saw a flash of gold.

He brought his broom around and flew forward. He felt the world around him fade away, blurring into a smear. Marcus Flint tried to fly in his way. Harry easily moved around him, focused on the small glint of gold in the distance.

Terrence Higgs flew in the same direction, but Harry was outpacing him.

The snitch tried to dodge. Harry flew after it, his eyes watching carefully. Hours of training, of punching, of mastering his body, came together in a single fast snatch out of the air. The snitch tried to dodge.

Harry leapt off his broom. He grabbed the snitch.

From over a hundred feet in the air.

He brought his legs and arms together, still clutching the snitch as he dropped. Below, he could see Fred getting ready to catch him. Harry waited until he heard the bell ringing for the match's end. Then he extended a hand towards his broom, magic flowing through him.

"Accio broom!"

The Nimbus 2000, floating idly above, was pulled down towards him. Once the broom was parallel to him, Harry grabbed hold of it and landed on it, twisting around to drift over the grass, his toes barely scraping the ground.

He held the snitch high, grinning all the while.

Later, there was a bit of an argument.

"He cheated!" Marcus Flint howled later. "He used magic to catch the snitch! That's absolutely cheating! It doesn't count!"

Madam Hooch was unmoving before the enraged Slytherin boy. "He caught the snitch without a hint of magic. The game was officially over before he used magic, and on his broom. I will remind you, Mr. Flint, that magic used at the end of a match, such as to celebrate, is allowed for players."

Harry guessed she was referencing something, because Flint flinched.

Harry didn't care. He was still holding the snitch with a smile wider than he'd ever had on his face.

"Good on you, Harry!" Wood roared, clapping the smaller boy on the back. Fred and George were moving in some strange tribal type of dance and laughing together as Lee Jordan announced the results.

"Absolutely brilliant play, he leaped off his broom to catch it, that was bloody brilliant-!" Lee shouted over the audience.

Later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Gar, and Susan were in Hagrid's cabin, drinking tea. With the five children, giant man, and the large dog, things got cramped. But Hagrid didn't seem to mind too much. He seemed happy to have company.

"It was Snape," Ron said. Gar stopped drinking to stare at Ron. Then he looked up at the ceiling in seeming despair. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"It's not Snape," Gar said, rubbing his eyes. "He's a tremendous asshole. But it's not him."

"How do you know?" Harry asked seriously. "He's been after me all year."

"There's a leap between being a petty bully and a straight up murderer."

"Gar's right," Hagrid added. "Snape ain't a killer."

"No, he's a killer," Gar said, throwing Hagrid off completely. "I wouldn't want to duel him for real, he'd end me. But there's a difference between killing in combat and murdering someone from behind."

"Mate, your mind is twistier than anyone's has a right to be," Ron mumbled.

"Do you really think Snape would kill Harry?" Susan asked Hermione.

Harry's newest friend frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe because Slytherin was losing? I don't know. But when I saw him, he was muttering until Danny scared Professor Quirrell and bumped into Snape."

"You know what, how about this?" Gar said, scratching at his chin. "Let's tell Dumbledore about it."

Harry frowned. "Tell Dumbledore?"

"Yep. Let's go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him we think Snape is trying to kill Harry. Because we saw him mumbling to himself during a Quidditch match."

Gar sounded as though he was trying to make it clear he didn't think that would work. Harry could see why.

"Okay fine, we don't have proof," Harry said. "Then we'll wait till we can get some."

"And in the meantime, keep documenting every last thing Snape says to you in class," Gar agreed. "He may not be a murderer. But he is a bully. And at this point, I've had enough."

"Er," Hagrid looked between Harry and Gar, befuddled. "What uh… What are you going to do?"

"The most punk rock thing a man can do," Gar said seriously.

"Peaceful protest." Harry finished.

Susan nodded as well, then giggled. "Still. When Danny flew into Quirrell's face, that was so funny! Where did he go after?"

"To send a letter to someone in the Forbidden Forest."

Everyone turned to stare at Gar.

"What? I have friends outside of you all."

Firenze

Danny extended a talon carrying a letter out. Firenze stared at him.

"...What."

Gareth Ahmed

December was cold as fuck. I like the winter. Summer people can enjoy their heat, but at least you can enjoy winter with enough layers on. You can be downright cozy once you stack enough buffs of blankets. Heaters help, but are optional.

As opposed to summer heat, where you can turn naked as the day you were born in the shade and still be sweating your ass off.

So yeah. December cold began to come in. And with it, snow.

In the wee hours of Early December, Fred, George, and I worked on something with that snow.

"Okay, done," I zipped up my pants and turned away from the snow I'd prepared. "What else we got?"

"Dungbomb filled, for starters," Fred said, chuckling. "Mate, I had no idea you'd want to join us on this."

"Quirrell deserves it," I looked over one of the other snowballs and grinned. "Oh yeah. Pepper flakes will do very nicely."

George gave me an odd look. "What did Quirrell do to you?"

"He tasks me, Mr. Weasley. He tasks me. And I will make him pay for that."

"...Well, I guess yellow snow is a good start."

"Gotta mark my territory."

This is my school. Harry is my friend. Voldy wasn't going to feel comfortable for even one moment if I could help it.

I took some satisfaction when, hours later, Quirrell stepped out of the castle to head to his next class. The instant his foot hit snow, the spell went off.

First, the pepper snowballs, soaked in spices, smashing into the back of his head, then the front.

As Quirrell shouted in shock and pain, briefly blinded, a pack of snowballs smashed into his chest and exploded into foul smelling dungbombs, one special landing on the back of his head again.

Finally, yellow snow for a small insult.

Of course, Fred, George, and I weren't anywhere nearby when that happened. We were in another part of the castle when the spell went off, talking with Professor Sinistra about space and the stars. Partly for a flimsy alibi, partly to share ideas.

The pair got blamed anyways, but hey, there wasn't proof. And I had a great rest of my day whenever I smelled Quirrell in the distance.

"You aren't staying for Christmas?" Harry asked me while we were doing push-ups later on. The snow had driven most of our workouts inside, even with warming charms on Field 6.

"I want to," I said honestly. "Christmas is supposed to be pretty fun around here. But I need to go to Diagon Alley and buy stuff. Maybe talk to someone seedy. And honestly, I miss my family."

I hadn't expected that by the way. Eleven years with them had made me more attached than I expected. I wanted to play a bit with Ali, maybe hang out with Pops, tell Ma about how things went down.

I was looking forward to it.

Harry looked disappointed, but not too bad. "That makes sense. I'll make sure they don't shut down the club while you're gone."

"Better, make sure that Snape doesn't come by in an attempt to 'teach' everyone." I paused. "I guess if he does do that, the most you can do is ignore him. Just stay out of trouble, all right?"

"That's easy for me," Harry said. "Everyone knows you're the troublemaker between us."

"Give it time, you've got the potential in you. I'll make sure to grab you something too."

"Oh right, I won't be able to give you your gift on the day." Harry mumbled.

Gift? I looked over at him, more touched than anything. "Well, have Hedwig send it. I'll have snacks. And I can send Danny with your gift."

Harry nodded. He looked thoughtful for some reason. He looked at me. Then away.

What was that about? I decided to leave it for now. Still, it would stick with me for a bit.

Didn't matter for now. I was on my way home a few days later. Time to get the next stages of things done.