A/N: Hello again, everyone! I hope that the speedy posting time on this chapter will make up for the delay we suffered before Chapter 18. Luckily, I've had much of this instalment written for a while now, and it did not require too much additional editing.

Still counting down the weeks of pregnancy (we hit 13 yesterday, yay!) … and beginning to put some time in on our list of names. My mother has been staying with me during the day while James is at hospital and I am 'working from home.' The experience has been both helpful and (perhaps in larger part) harrowing. But my mum and my husband seem to be in some sort of appalling agreement not to leave me alone 'in case of emergency.' I promise, there will be an emergency if I have to suffer one more hour of hovering, another 'green smoothie' ('But darling, it's so good for you! And it will keep your vitamin levels up.') or another cup of odd-smelling tea ('Sweetheart, I don't understand why you must always be so difficult. Melinda gave red bush to Jade when she was pregnant, and she says it worked wonders!').

*Sigh*

In any case, that is my rant for today. Review responses for Chapter 18 are at the bottom. Enjoy Chapter 19!

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DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and story lines are the property of the wonderful Joanne Rowling, in whose world I am honoured and privileged to have an opportunity to play for a while.

Chapter 19: The Scottish Play

Minerva sent an elf to collect Harry, Ron and Hermione at half past seven the following morning. All three made their way down to the entrance hall promptly, fully dressed and looking excited at the prospect of the day. Severus was a bit later, scowling predictably as he emerged from the dungeon stairwell with a black leather holdall in one hand.

'All set?' Minerva asked, glancing around the little group. The children nodded eagerly, Severus merely rolled his eyes. 'Excellent,' she said, checking her watch. 'Albus has arranged a portkey that will take us directly to the inn. We might as well take it from here, and I can explain the scheme for the rest of the day once you've all had a chance to set your things down.'

She reached a hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out an ordinary copy of Transfiguration Today.

'Now, Harry, Ms Granger, I know you haven't used a portkey before, but the concept is fairly simple. Everyone must be touching the object in order to travel with the group. There is no need to grasp too firmly – a finger should do.'

She waited, while everyone moved in to place a finger or two on the journal. When the group was situated, she explained: 'Most portkeys are activated at a specific time. This one, however, has been spelled to activate with a specific password. Is everyone ready?'

They all nodded again.

'McAllister!' Minerva said firmly. She saw Severus' grimace of recognition, just as the group was swept away from the castle, transported as if by hooks behind their navels.

The portkey deposited them in a comfortable sitting room, furnished in scarlet and deep navy blue. Severus and Minerva alighted squarely on their feet. The children, not unexpectedly, toppled to their knees at once, looking dazed. Minerva bent to assist Hermione off the floor, while Harry and Ron got their own feet under them unsteadily.

'I do apologise,' she said, as Hermione stood once more. 'I should have given a bit more warning, perhaps. The sensation can be unnerving your first time.'

'It's alright, professor,' said Hermione, slightly breathlessly. She looked curiously around the room. 'What inn have we come to?'

'The Red Lion,' a new voice answered, as a witch in sweeping midnight blue robes came into the sitting room. She was tall and elegant, her hair piled on top of her head in a complex twist and her makeup impeccable despite the early morning hour.

'Emmeline,' Minerva greeted with a smile, striding forward to meet her. The witches clasped hands and leaned in to peck each other fondly on the cheek in salutation.

'It is lovely to see you, Minerva,' Emmeline said, stepping back. 'It's been far too long. And Severus!'

She stepped toward the Potions master, who stiffened noticeably as she bestowed a kiss on him as well. 'Charming, as ever.'

Minerva bit her lip to hide her grin. Behind her, she thought Harry gave a muffled snort.

'Emmeline, allow me to introduce our pupils,' she said, indicating the trio with a sweep of her arm. The three children had grouped themselves together in the middle of the room now, watching the adults nervously. 'This is Ronald Weasley, Molly and Arthur's youngest son, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter.'

Emmeline's eyes performed the familiar flick upward to Harry's famous scar, but she otherwise made no effusion on his presence. Minerva was grateful, but unsurprised. It was one of the things she admired most in this particular witch: her ability to keep cool and collected no matter the circumstance. Her talent for level-headedness had kept many alive in the years when Voldemort had been strong.

'This is Emmeline Vance,' she said to the children. 'She has been a friend and colleague of mine since my own days at school. She works in Edinburgh now, and has very kindly allowed us to stay here, at her inn, for the duration of our time in the city.'

'A pleasure to meet you all,' Emmeline said, smiling at the students. 'And I hope you will enjoy your stay in Edinburgh.'

The trio gave their thanks, still looking rather nervous.

'This is a beautiful room, ma'am,' Hermione offered.

'Emmeline is fine, dear,' the witch corrected lightly. 'And I thank you. The house was my family's home for many years, but I converted it to an inn in the late seventies. It seemed frivolous to keep such large quarters on my own.' She clapped her hands, and a young looking House-elf appeared, wearing a navy pillowcase that perfectly matched the furnishings.

'Dorry will take your things upstairs for you,' she offered, nodding to the elf. 'I expect you're all rather peckish.'

'Starving!' Ron said with a grin, as his stomach gave an audible growl. Severus looked disgusted, but Emmeline laughed.

'Well, I've had breakfast laid in the dining room, if you'd like to have something to eat now. I can give you the tour of your rooms and the house afterward.'

She led them through to a sunny dining room, where the delicious smells of a fresh breakfast greeted them all. Ron's eyes were nearly bugging from his face at the sight of the spread, and he hopped eagerly into the first available seat. The others took their places more sedately, but everyone enjoyed the food. Severus, Minerva and Emmeline exchanged pleasantries at one end of the long table, while the trio chattered happily to each other on the other side. At last, they had eaten their fill. Emmeline clapped her hands once over the table, and the dishes vanished to the out-of-sight kitchen.

She led them through the house, pointing out the different day rooms in the downstairs portion and then taking them up a magnificent staircase to the upper floors. At Albus' request, Emmeline had accepted no other boarders for this particular week-end, so the great house was quiet and still apart from their own conversation. Emmeline was the epitome of hostess. She was able to accommodate them all on the first floor of the inn: Severus and Minerva in rooms to the right, the children in rooms to the left. They spent a half hour or so unpacking their holdalls and freshening up a bit from their travels and breakfast, then the little party reconvened in the sitting room to discuss the day.

'The match will begin at five o'clock this evening,' Minerva informed them. 'That gives us nearly a full day to wander the city. We ought to see the castle, it's a traditional holidaymaker's attraction. I would also suggest Mary King's Close. It's closed to the public for Muggles, but there are wizarding tours permitted at noon each day. There is also a wizarding alley in the city, much like Diagon Alley in London. We could take lunch there, and explore the shops a bit in the afternoon. Then, I think, you all ought to rest for an hour or so before the match this evening. It is quite possible it could last late into the night.'

The students agreed immediately, looking eager to get going.

'Before we go, I want each of you to take one of these,' Minerva said. She reached into a pocket of her robes, pulling out three simple, oval-shaped pendants of gold. She handed one to each of the trio.

'Thanks,' said Harry, frowning a bit as he took his own. 'But, er, why do we need necklaces?'

'They are portkeys,' Minerva clarified. She turned to catch Ron's gaze. 'I believe you have some experience with a similar device?'

He nodded, pulling his own over his neck. 'Do these work with a password too, professor?' he asked her.

Minerva nodded. 'Yes,' she said. 'They are keyed to activate when turned thrice over in the palm of the hand. The command to travel is "Emmeline." And, as I'm sure you have guessed, the portkey will transport you back to this very room. They are for use in emergency only. Portkeys are not a toy, and they are not a joke. Should you use this to travel down the stairs tomorrow morning, for instance, I shall be highly displeased. Moreover, the magic on these portkeys is singular and finite. It will only transport you once. So any frivolous use of the pendants may cost you more than a lecture. Do you understand?'

The three children looked wary now, but they nodded their comprehension.

'Very good,' said Minerva, smiling a little. 'Now, let us be off!'

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Severus could not believe this. He was seriously debating poisoning the headmaster if he ever managed to make it back to Hogwarts with his mind intact.

They'd decided to do the castle first, as it was the farthest from Emmeline's. The day was a touch warmer than it might have been at Hogwarts, and Severus grew increasingly hot in the ridiculous Muggle clothing he'd been forced – at Minerva's insistence – to don for the occasion. The Gryffindor brats had glanced very oddly at him when he'd emerged in the black shirt and trousers, and Severus knew they'd been trying hard not to laugh. He detested Muggle clothing, and that which he did own was as unobtrusive as he could make it… but there was no getting round the option this morning. Still, he was itching to pull his robes from their shrunken place in his pocket.

Granger had visited the castle once before as a young child, and refused to stop jabbering about the history for the entire climb up the hill.

'– been some sort of structure on the hill since the Iron Age, and David I built the castle in the 12th century,' she was telling a mildly interested Potter and a thoroughly bored Weasley. 'Queen Mary lived here too; she gave birth to James I at the castle.'

'There should be placards posted in various locations when we reach the fortress,' Severus interrupted her waspishly. 'If you would like to memorise those as well.'

Granger flushed. Both Potter and the previously-daydreaming Weasley glared at him on their friend's behalf.

'Knowledge of Muggle history can come in useful,' Minerva offered, giving Severus her own look of warning before smiling at Granger. 'It is an interest you should pursue, Ms Granger.'

Severus rolled his eyes.

They proceeded with a Muggle tour of the castle, most of which was in ruins now. Severus found his patience wearing thin as Muggles in absurd period dress re-enacted bits of the fortress's history along the way, to the amusement of the brats and Minerva. Thankfully, they managed to finish with the castle in about an hour, and made their way toward Mary King's Close.

'Why's it called Mary King's close?' Potter asked Minerva as they made their way through Old Town. 'Mary was Queen, wasn't she? It doesn't seem to make much sense.'

'The close is not named for Mary, Queen of Scots, you foolish child,' Severus scorned.

'It's not like I had much Scottish history in primary school!' Potter retorted, nettled.

'Mary King is a name, not a title,' Minerva explained patiently. 'She was the daughter of a man who owned several properties in the close in the 17th century.'

'I've read that the Close is supposed to be one of the most haunted places in Britain. Is that true?' Hermione asked keenly.

Minerva smiled. 'It is, and it is not,' she admitted. 'The close is quite old, and dates back to days when wizards and Muggles lived side by side throughout much of Old Town. As such, there are several resident ghosts in the area, though none are particularly violent. Mary King's Close contains the entryway into the wizarding section of town, much like the Leaky Cauldron in London. It is one of the reasons the proposed re-opening of the close to Muggle tourism has met with much objection from wizarding society. The entryway is located through the wall very near to the connection to Writer's Court, so Muggles passing sometimes glimpse a figure in the close, who seems to disappear only moments later through the wall. A strange phenomenon, to the mind unaccustomed to Magic. And then, of course, for centuries this section of town was quite close to Nor Loch, before the loch was filled in. As the city population expanded with the centuries, Nor Loch became quite polluted and stagnant. Biogas escaping from the waters sometimes caused eerie light reflections, which Muggles often mistook for spirit activity. On one occasion, the gas actually caused hallucinations, which turned out to be a result of a careless wizard's disposal in the loch of a noxious Babbling Beverage.'

They made their way into the close, with Minerva directing the children's attention to various portions of interest and historical significance. Severus kept his eyes peeled for trouble in the surrounding street, just in case, and checked his watch frequently as he waited for the hours until luncheon to dissipate.

At long last, they were coming on noon and Minerva suggested the group enter the wizarding part of town. She led them all to the aforementioned brick wall, selecting a combination of stones with her wand. As in London, an archway began to form among the stones, vanishing the remainder to allow them entrance. Minerva led the children through first, and Severus took up the rear.

The alley was bustling on the Friday afternoon, spilling over with holidaymakers and locals. Minerva led them expertly through the winding street, toward a small pub in a corner called 'The Hobbit's Hob.' Potter raised an eyebrow as she indicated the sign.

'I didn't know hobbits were a real thing,' he admitted, as Minerva pushed open the door to chivvy them all inside.

'They are not,' Minerva said with a smile, leading them straight to a booth in the back. 'But the owner of this pub hails from Kings Hearth in Birmingham, where Tolkien lived for a time. He is rather fond of the pun.'

A smiling barmaid appeared a few moments later, and Minerva ordered butterbeer for them all. Severus took his rather ungraciously; he would have much preferred something a bit stronger.

After lunch, they explored some of the shops in the alley. Severus endured the sweet shop and the joke shop with what he considered extraordinary patience, and managed to find a rare volume on Chimera-based poisons in the famous bookshop Granger insisted on dragging them into. They spent a couple of hours in the alley, before Minerva announced they ought to head back for an afternoon rest before the evening match. Severus was grateful – the hot day, Muggle clothes and incessant teenage chatter had worn him near to exhaustion already.

Everyone had a bit of quiet time in their separate chambers, then took tea in the dining room together before making their way toward the pitch. The inn was only a fifteen-minute walk from the stadium, which was situated on a hillside at the outskirts of the city.

'Wow!' Potter said in wonderment, as they rounded a corner through the wards and the stadium at last popped into view. 'I can't believe it's been right here the whole time, and they've managed to keep it from the Muggles!'

'Hogwarts is ten times this size,' Severus pointed out.

'Yes, but we're out in the middle of nowhere,' Potter said. 'Edinburgh is a much more difficult place to conceal something this large.'

'The stadium has been here for centuries, though modernised, of course,' Minerva put in. 'There are Muggle-repelling charms covering every inch of it.'

Severus presented the tickets to a harried-looking witch in an entrance booth, who gave directions for their section. He nodded curtly in thanks, and jerked his head at Minerva and the children to follow.

The stadium was packed with people – most of them British, although Severus heard several German accents as they climbed the staircase. The noise and chaos made him both nervous and irritated, and he clutched the wand in his pocket with an iron grip.

'Just here,' Minerva said, indicating the correct row. Severus allowed the Gryffindors to file in ahead of him, and took up his own seat resignedly.

This was going to be a long match.

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The stadium was brilliant – unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. It was easily three times the size of Hogwarts' quidditch accommodations but just as packed. Most of the wizards were decked out in the white and deep blue of the Scottish national team, waving banners and sending blue sparks up from their wands in the pre-match excitement. The far third of the round stadium, however, was a sea of brightest scarlet as the Austrian supporters made their cheers heard too. Where the two colours met, heckles and good-spirited jeers could be heard even over the general din.

The pitch was lit up with dazzling torches high as the stands, their flames also coordinated to match the national colours of the competing teams. The excitement was so heavy in the air; Harry could almost taste it.

'How long until the match starts?' he asked McGonagall, tearing his eyes from the crowd.

Their own seats were near the centre of the pitch, directly against the rail of their tier about halfway up the stands. The seats in this section divided into little mini-boxes of six apiece, and the additional seat in their box had been left empty. Harry supposed Dumbledore had not wanted any unknown wizards too near them.

'It was scheduled for five o'clock,' Minerva reminded him.

Harry checked his watch – a repaired one he'd nicked from the bin that had once belonged to Dudley. It was already five past.

'They usually kick off about ten minutes late,' Minerva informed him, smiling at his obvious impatience.

Harry nodded, and turned to watch the pitch again.

'Shouldn't the mascots be coming out first though?' asked Ron, frowning.

'Generally speaking, yes,' Minerva admitted. 'But the Austrian mascot is the Krampus, which has been classified by the British Ministry of Magic as a highly dangerous magical creature. They will not allow the team to bring their mascots to matches held in the UK or Ireland, with the exception of the World Cup, should they qualify. As a courtesy, the Scottish team has likewise agreed to forgo the traditional mascot display at this particular match.'

'What is the Scottish mascot?' asked Harry curiously.

'The Brounie,' said Minerva with a grin.

'Brilliant,' said Ron appreciatively.

Harry dearly wished they were seeing them, but he wasn't about to let anything ruin his excitement today. He gratefully took one of the blue scarves Minerva was handing out, wrapping it around his neck as he cheered. The night was not exactly cool enough to warrant the scarf itself… but it was not so hot as to make it uncomfortable either. Snape, who was hanging as far back as possible in their six-seat portioned box, draped his over the back of his chair as though fearful someone might mistake him for a Ravenclaw should he don it.

After a few minutes, all the flames in the stadium dimmed save one, illuminating a high box along the far side of the oval.

'That's the top box,' Minerva informed them, leaning over so that Harry, Ron and Hermione could hear her over the tumult of the crowd. 'The commentator should be announcing the match any moment.'

Sure enough, a portly man in flowing blue robes stepped to the front of the box, holding both hands high in the air to quiet the crowd. The spectators slowly curbed their chants to pay attention.

'Good evening, ladies and gentleman, and welcome to Edinburgh Stadium, home of the Scottish National Quidditch Team!' the man greeted them all, waving to the stands. Though he had to be three hundred feet from them, the man had spelled his voice to project loud and clear across the pitch. There was an instantaneous surge of applause and whistling in response, and the man waited a moment for the crowd to quiet.

'Without further ado, I give you the visiting Austrian National Team! Haider, Hofler, Eberle, Koellerer, Bohm, Grillpazar, aaaaaand Dorner!'

The scarlet-clad supporters began to cheer more loudly than ever, waving their banners and shooting streams of red sparks from their wands while each player zoomed onto the pitch as his or her name was announced. The Chasers, Harry saw, were all male, as was the Seeker. But their Beaters and their Keeper were women. This surprised him somewhat; at Hogwarts, it was not unusual to see women on the House teams – with the possible exception of Slytherin – but women were more likely to play at Chaser or Seeker. He supposed it was something to do with the fact that most men had greater physical strength.

Hermione scoffed, as he voiced this opinion aloud. 'There are plenty of strong girls, Harry,' she said crossly, clapping politely with the rest of the Scottish supporters. 'And good Keepers and Beaters are skilled strategists as well, aren't they? I daresay many women would have an edge over men, in that department.'

'Well, I think it's odd,' said Ron, though in an undertone at Harry's ear.

But Harry rather thought Hermione had a point. And, looking at the Austrian Keeper in particular, he could not doubt that she was both strong and savvy. Even now, she was taking the time before kick-off to consider the conditions of the pitch, testing the ground and analysing the angle of the low-hanging sun. Harry saw she wore the captain's arm band on her right sleeve.

The Austrian players completed a lap around the pitch, before coming to rest on one side of the centre line. The commentator cleared his throat again.

'And, ladies and gentlemen, please give a rousing welcome to the Scottish National Team! MacDonald, Douglas, MacLean, Tallach, Bain, Campbell, aaaaaaand McAllister!'

Even with the amplifying charm, Harry could only just hear the names as the commentator announced them: so great was the thunderous cheering from the stands. Harry, Ron and Hermione clapped and whistled loudly right along with the rest of them as the players flew over the pitch. Even Snape, who'd stood scowling for the better part of the past half hour, managed to applaud with the lot as the Scottish team was announced.

MacDonald, Douglas and Maclean – the Scottish Chasers – looked as though they could be Weasley siblings. Each had hair like live flames, streaming behind them as they flew in a complicated weave to their places on the pitch. They were all within an inch of each other in height, though Douglas was the only female of the three. Tallach and Bain, the Beaters, were brawny and compact, and Campbell looked almost tall enough to be a Dumbledore. Little Amy McAllister, however, was so slight she was nearly lost amidst her teammates when she finally landed. She had long blonde hair tied down her back in a tight plait, and she looked very young. Harry thought she could only have been out of Hogwarts a year or two. She hadn't been on the national team the previous year… and Harry couldn't remember what club she'd played for. He turned to ask Minerva.

'She's twenty-two, actually,' the professor informed him, eyes twinkling. 'A Ravenclaw. Pity, we could have used her talent on the Gryffindor team. She signed with the Kenmare Kestrels two years ago, and had a brilliant first season. She sat out this past year with spattergroit, but the healers deemed her fit to play at the start of the summer. Hasn't lost a match since.'

'Well, they haven't played England yet, have they?' Ron said loyally. A steely glint appeared in Minerva's eye.

'True enough, Weasley,' she conceded. 'But I do recall the Kestrels trouncing the Cannons 380 to 60 only a fortnight ago.'

Ron's ears went scarlet, but Harry's laughter was drowned by the announcement of the match referee. He quickly sobered up, leaning against the rail to watch the kick-off. The referee was a tall black man in his mid-thirties or so, who was announced by the commentator to be Blake Clendenon. He released the catch on the ball chest with a flourish, and the four balls rose high into the air. Harry caught just the briefest glimpse of the elusive golden snitch before it disappeared into the reddening sky. Then the captains were shaking hands, the referee gave the signal, and the crowd cheered their sides into the air.

This was quidditch on a level far above anything Harry had ever played in at Hogwarts. The fourteen players zoomed so quickly around the stadium, he could hardly make out who was who at the best of times, and he had no idea how the commentator was distinguishing between the Scottish Chasers. As it was, the poor man only had time to shout the surname of the person in possession of the Quaffle – it was passed so quickly from player to player as the team moved down the pitch. The Keepers were so fantastic, however, that even the skill of the Chasers wasn't enough most of the time. It was at least fifteen minutes before Scotland managed its first goal.

'And that's 10-nil to Scotland!' the commentator bellowed, over the tumult of the Scottish cheers and the rise of hisses and boos from the Austrian supporters. 'Excellent shot there from Douglas!'

It wasn't long, however, before Austria had parried the effort, scoring two in a row through Campbell's right hoop.

'He's not covering that post!' Minerva growled. She was clutching at Snape's arm in her anxiety. The sight made Harry grin in spite of his own displeasure… for Snape looked far more disconcerted by the contact than the Austrian goals.

'Minerva, really!' he hissed at her, trying to yank his arm out of her grasp. She did not appear to hear.

'Those Firebolts are unbelievable!' said Ron in awe, watching Bohm careen in out of nowhere to knock a bludger at MacDonald. The Chaser managed to swerve to avoid the hit, but dropped the Quaffle in the effort.

Austria was now 20 points up.

'Firebolt?' Harry repeated, confused. Ron rolled his eyes.

'Harry, were have you been this summer, mate? Didn't you see it in Quidditch Quarterly?'

'Er –' Harry hesitated. He actually hadn't read it yet since the end of term. Ron shook his head in disbelief.

'The Firebolt is a brand new broom, just come out a week or two ago. They gave some of their prototypes to a few of the national team members to try it out. It's good for advertising, you know. Looks like Scotland and Austria have both gone in for full orders.'

Harry paid a bit more attention to the mounts after that. Ron was right – the Firebolt was incredible. It explained why these players were moving faster than he'd ever seen anyone play quidditch before.

'And, it looks like Austrian Seeker Stefan Dorner has seen the snitch!' the commentator shouted, as the Seeker in Scarlet robes went zooming off toward the Austrian hoops.

'Not yet!' Ron moaned. 'We're not even half an hour in!'

But Harry saw it too – just above the centre hoop, a glint of gold was sparkling in the summer sun. Amy McAllister went tearing off after Dorner, but she was lagging well behind. And then –

'Oooh, excellent shot by Scottish Beater Tallach!' the commentator said, as Dorner was hit hard by a Bludger. The blow sent the Seeker sideways, careening into McAllister, who had just about caught up. The Scottish cheers for their Beater, however, were turned almost immediately into shouts of horror, as the tiny blonde Seeker was shoved clean off her broom into a free fall.

'Oh Merlin! Oh my God!' Hermione squealed beside Harry, clutching at her face as she bounced on her toes, watching the girl fall.

Tallach and Bain dove at once, just managing to catch her before she hit the ground. Cheers erupted again as they set McAllister back on her waiting broom but, in all the kerfuffle, the Snitch had vanished.

After that early drama, the match proceeded neck and neck for hours. First the Scottish bounced back, then the Austrians were on top again, and back and forth it went until the pitch was so dark, the flaming torches were burned higher and higher to illuminate the players in the sky. Snape disappeared for a time, returning with plates of fried food for everyone. Harry really had to use the loo, but he didn't want to miss it if the match ended while he had ducked out. He chanced a glance at his watch – it was nearly midnight.

Then McAllister dove, so suddenly Harry wondered if she might have fallen from her broom again. Her body was pressed so flat to her Firebolt that her nose touched the handle, arm outstretched in front of her. Harry scanned the pitch below, but he could not see any tell-tale glint of gold. The Austrian Seeker hurried to mimic her, pulling tight to her side.

'She's seen it!' Ron said excitedly, leaning over the rail.

'I don't know…' Harry said doubtfully, as the commentator began to cheer them on. 'I can't see it anywhere.'

'Harry, it's nearly pitch black,' Hermione reminded him through her fingers. 'It'd be a miracle to spot anything at all at this hour.'

The Seekers were nearly to the ground now, still speeding like they'd been shot out of a cannon.

'If they don't watch out, they'll crash!' said Hermione in a high-pitched squeal. She seemed unable to decide whether to keep her eyes squeezed shut.

'I rather think that is the point,' Snape offered drily from behind them.

Harry frowned. And then, as McAllister pulled out of the dive inches from the ground, he understood. The Austrian Seeker, intent on trying to copy his opponent's moves, was unable to recover in time. He did not face-plant into the ground as Harry had feared might happen, but he pulled up a few moments too late, hitting his knees hard on the earth. He slipped off the side of his broom, a bit dazed in the aftermath. Meanwhile, McAllister was flying at play-level once again. Harry saw her eyes darting wildly around in search.

'Ingenious,' Harry said, clapping along with the Scottish supporters. 'She's got ages now.'

'But what if he's hurt?' Hermione said anxiously, watching as Dorman was helped to his broom again by Koellerer. Ron and Harry both shrugged, too intent on watching the continuation of the match to care.

'He's fine,' Minerva assured her. The Seeker took to the air again a moment later, slightly slower than before.

And the diversion was exactly what the Scottish side had needed. Just as Dorman was returning to the air, McAllister began a second dive, on the far side of the pitch. This time, Harry could see the Snitch, hovering at the base of one of the Austrian goal posts.

'Come on!' Ron cheered, as the crowd surged in response to the second dive. Harry cheered too, waving his scarf and whistling as McAllister stretched out her hand. Dorman was frantically racing toward the spot too… but he was miles behind her now.

McAllister's fingers swiped through the air, and the crowd roared its approval as she soared up again, flying over the stands with her fist held high and a triumphant grin on her face.

'And that's the match, folks!' the commentator announced to the applauding crowd. 'A victory for Scotland, 570 to 430.'

The victorious team did a lap of celebration, waving and smiling to the fans. And Harry thought his hands would bruise from the vigour of his clapping.

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'That was brilliant!' Ron said enthusiastically, still waving his Scottish banner as he bounced on his feet forty minutes after the match's conclusion.

'It really was,' Harry agreed with a grin. 'The way that McAllister feinted at the end – genius. I can't wait to try it out!'

'Oh Harry, don't, please.' said Hermione nervously. 'It looked so dangerous!'

Harry saw she still had red marks on her cheeks, where she'd clutched at her face in her anxiety. Ron scoffed, clapping Harry on the back.

'He can do it, Hermione,' he disagreed. 'Harry's the best Seeker we've had in decades.'

'I daresay he can,' Minerva said, smiling fondly at Harry. 'Though I would advise against attempting it should the headmaster be supervising your time on the pitch.'

Harry grinned, imagining the look on Albus' face if Harry pulled a move like that in front of him.

'Whatever Potter's innumerable accomplishments,' said Snape in a sarcastic tone, 'I would rather get out of this mob scene before dawn. Let's move along.'

Minerva shot a disapproving look at the Potions master, but she too chivvied them toward the throng making its way down the stairs.

'I have to pop in the loo first,' Ron said, as they reached the landing at last. 'Is that alright?'

Snape made an impatient noise. 'Can't you wait five minutes until we're back at the inn?' he snapped waspishly at him.

'No,' Ron insisted, jaw set.

'That's fine, Mr Weasley,' Minerva assured him before Snape could retort. 'I shall take Ms Granger in with me, and Professor Snape can accompany you and Harry.' She nodded at Snape as she said the last, and bustled off with Hermione through the crowd toward the opposite wall.

'I shall wait here,' Snape told them, as at last they managed to push their way into sight of the loo. 'I daresay even you can manage not to fall in, Potter,' he said scathingly.

Harry scowled, but he gave Snape a curt nod of agreement, heading into the loo with Ron. Wizards were packed inside the vestibule like sardines, even before the door to the loo itself, and it took them ages to move far enough up the queue to see the cubicles at all. When Harry had finished his business, therefore, he was quite unsurprised to find that Snape had been too impatient with the long delay to continue waiting outside in the crowd.

'Aren't you done yet?' he snapped at Harry, as the latter made to wash his hands. Ron was just exiting his own stall, and he gave Snape a look that perfectly mirrored Harry's feelings as he turned the tap at a basin.

'Come with me, quickly,' Snape said, grabbing tightly onto Harry's upper arm as he made to dry his hands.

'Oi, I need a moment!' Ron protested, still busy at the basin. Snape barely spared him a glance.

'Finish up and meet us outside,' he said curtly. 'Wait at the entrance for me.'

Harry gave Ron a commiserating look, allowing Snape to pull him through the loo and into the vestibule. Snape paused, waiting while a very fat wizard made his way through the inner door to the facilities. There was no longer a queue out the door, much to Harry's relief. When the swinging door had shut behind the wizard, Snape pulled an invisibility cloak from within the folds of his robes.

'Under here, boy,' he said to Harry, shaking it out as he glanced nervously around.

'Where'd you get an invisibility cloak?' asked Harry, surprised. 'You never said you –'

'Do not argue with me!' Snape snapped, his eyes flashing. 'We have to get out of here immediately. It isn't safe.'

'But Ron –' Harry tried to protest.

'McGonagall is taking care of him,' Snape assured him, throwing the cloak over Harry and himself even as he said it. 'They'll meet us outside the stadium. Stay close now.'

Harry was feeling very odd about the entire situation, and increasingly worried. But he allowed Snape to guide him out the vestibule door, and steer him carefully through the crowd and down a stairwell toward the exit. Snape kept a tight hand around his shoulder the entire time, which only increased Harry's sense of unease. Snape had never held onto Harry like this before; except for that horrible time he'd had to carry Harry after what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. The closeness spoke only of stress and discomfort to Harry. He wished Snape would loosen his grip.

To his surprise, Snape did not stop once they'd reached the bottom of the long staircase to the stadium grounds. Instead, he led Harry across the darkened lawn, away from the bustle of exiting wizards and toward a copse of trees on the edge of the property.

'Where are the others?' Harry asked warily, trying to turn back toward the stadium to watch for them. Snape tightened his grip even further, preventing him from stopping their progress.

'They'll be along shortly,' he promised, prodding Harry to keep him moving. As they reached the dark trees at last, Snape finally removed the cloak. He kept his grip on Harry.

Harry frowned, still trying to peer back at the crowd. 'We shouldn't have left them behind,' he said anxiously, still unable to see Minerva, Ron or Hermione. 'What's so dangerous, sir? Has Sirius Black been spotted again?'

'Don't worry, Harry,' Snape said, squeezing the hand that still held firm to his shoulder. 'They'll be along.' He shook his sleeve back as he said it, freeing his wand from obstruction.

But Harry – far from reassured – stiffened under the man's grip as he turned his head at last from his scan of the crowd.

'What did you call me?' he asked in a whisper. He considered Snape warily. The Potions master scowled.

'Your name, idiot boy,' the man said dismissively. Harry felt his unease rise. He tried to take a nonchalant step back out of reach, but the hand on his shoulder remained ironclad.

'Why did you bring me out here, sir?'

His eyes focused in on the wand in Snape's hand.

The pale, very unfamiliar wand.

'Who are you?' Harry demanded, trying to draw his own wand and break the wizard's hold simultaneously. 'Are you Sirius Black?'

He prepared to scream – his terror mounting. But the man pinned him in a chokehold, cutting off his air supply. Harry scrabbled the strong forearm with his hands, trying desperately to break his hold as black spots began to dance through his vision.

'I,' the man said in a whisper, pressing Harry tight to his chest, 'Am so much more than Sirius Black could ever be, Harry Potter. Which is most unfortunate for you.'

And Harry's scream died in his throat, as he felt the man twist them in a circle, the pull of apparition spiriting them both away.

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The excitement of the match was still heavy in the crowd, who were growing sloppy with continued enthusiasm and excess of drink. Severus disliked crowds, and he abhorred drunkenness. He snarled as he was buffeted frequently from side to side by lumbering patrons, trying valiantly to keep one eye on the door to the gents. The crowd was slowly emptying from the stadium, and the throngs were obscuring his view.

If only the brats hadn't insisted on using the facilities – they might have avoided this nonsense.

At last, he spotted Weasley's red hair among the crowd. The boy looked around in confusion, then leaned back against the wall of the stadium, just outside the restroom doors. Severus waited almost five minutes, but Potter did not emerge behind him. He grew increasingly annoyed.

'Weasley!' he barked, pushing his way through the maze of tipsy wizards so the boy could see him. 'Enough of this dawdling. Go and get Potter and let us be gone from this place.'

Weasley scowled. 'What are you on about?' he said mulishly. 'He left ahead of me. You tell me where he's got to.'

Severus stared at him for a moment, before fear began to seep into his annoyance. He started closer again in his agitation, and was pushed roughly from behind by a massive wizard making for the way out. Stumbling, he caught Weasley up by the front of the robes, fear bypassing annoyance again and boiling quickly over into anger.

'Where is Potter?' Severus demanded, shaking the Weasley boy roughly by the scruff of the neck.

'I –' the boy looked scared, and still quite confused. 'How would I know? You took him!'

Severus stopped shaking the child, but kept a tight grip on his robes. He studied his wide blue eyes intensely. 'What are you talking about, boy?'

Weasley swallowed, but did not attempt to pull himself free. 'You… you came into the loo,' he said uncertainly. 'You said he had to come with you now. I shouted at you to hold up, but you told me to wait here for you to come back… so I did.'

Severus felt his blood chill.

He knew it had been a bad idea to come. This whole trip had been a mistake. They ought to lock Potter in the Astronomy Tower until the day he turned seventeen.

He released the child, pushing him roughly back. The boy was still frowning at him.

'But…. Don't you remember, sir?' he asked, confused.

'Of course I do not,' Severus snapped impatiently, trying to think. 'It was not I who approached you in that restroom.'

'Not –'

'Shut up, you idiot child! I need to think.'

He racked his brains hurriedly. He couldn't leave Weasley alone… but he could not delay if they hoped to find Potter. They had no idea who had taken him, or where. And if it was Black…

'Severus?' Minerva said, coming out of the ladies with Granger and pushing through the crowd toward them. She looked nervously around. 'Where's Harry?'

'Gone,' said Severus shortly. 'And we need to move quickly. Apparently he went off with –'

'He went off with him, professor!' Weasley shouted hysterically, staring at Severus with deep mistrust. 'Snape came and took him from the loo, and now he's acting like he has no bloody clue what –'

'Enough!' Severus snarled, pulling Weasley away from the growing crowd of onlookers and toward a shadow of the stadium. Minerva followed quickly, dragging Granger by the wrist. 'Have you lost your mind, you idiot child? You cannot shout about this in front of a sea of unknown wizards. The situation is perilous enough as it is.'

'You caused the situation!' Weasley insisted, stamping a foot in frustration. 'What have you done with him, eh? Gone and dropped him off with some Death Eater pals?'

Severus felt his vision redden in fury, as he made a serious effort to keep himself from striking the boy.

'Weasley, that's enough!' said Minerva sharply, throwing a silencing charm up around them and placing a restraining hand on Severus' arm. Severus could feel the tremble in her grip. 'Severus, what on earth –'

'Someone apparently impersonating my appearance has taken the brat,' Severus summarised in a rush. 'If we move quickly, we might yet be able to track them. Or if the boy shows a bit more intelligence than I would feel comfortable banking on, he might have used the portkey he's been given… there is no apparition permitted inside the stadium.'

Minerva clapped a hand to her mouth in horror, while Granger burst immediately into tears. Weasley was biting his lip, still glaring mistrustfully at Severus.

'Minerva,' Severus said tersely. 'Take the children back to the inn. I shall start the search for Potter.'

'I'm not leaving!' she shrieked. 'And someone needs to send word to Albus… this is exactly the sort of thing he was worried about. How could you have left them alone in there, Severus?'

Severus bristled at once. 'I never left the door!' he said indignantly. 'I hardly thought it necessary to accompany them into the restroom!'

'It was you who took him!' Weasley insisted again, sounding even more hysterical.

Snape rolled his eyes. 'This is a pointless debate,' he said through gritted teeth. 'And we are wasting valuable time. Minerva – take the children back immediately.'

'I'm not –'

'Take them back,' Severus repeated. 'And see to it that Emmeline keeps a watch on them. We don't need more casualties tonight. You can join me after you've –'

But his speech was interrupted, as a brilliant silver bear burst into view in front of them. Both the children jumped in alarm at the sight, but Severus and Minerva leaned quickly toward it to hear over the tumult of the crowd.

'Harry is here,' the patronus spoke in Emmeline's voice. 'You should return immediately.'

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Review Responses, Chapter 18:

Reader of Harry: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you for the heads up on the typo – just a late night slip, but I've corrected it and appreciate your bringing it to my attention. And name suggestions are welcome, haha, except if you are secretly my mother-in-law posting in disguise. Claire is actually on our list of possibilities at the moment, though I must admit we are having a far greater challenge narrowing down our list of possible girls' names than boys. Cason is not a name I've heard before, but it is lovely. They'll definitely be the same gender, as the OB is able to tell from the scan that they are identical twins. We also have a tradition (or rather, James's family has a tradition) of choosing three names for each child… which in my opinion makes children sound a bit like a law firm, but I can hardly break the habit. So we have a great deal of choices to make! We should be able to find out between 15 and 20 weeks what gender they will be, depending on babies' positioning during the scan. I can't wait to find out!

Kimberly: Thank you for your review! It's so lovely to hear from new readers, and I am happy you are enjoying the story and characterisations. I hope the update time was not too taxing!

AECM: Thank you for reviewing! Obviously, you've hit the nail on the head, so to speak… but this is Harry, excursions are hardly ever without incident :)

Blue Luver5000: Thank you for your review! Happy you enjoyed Chapter 18 and hope you liked the way that quidditch played out.

Guest: Thank you for reviewing! I'm very glad you are enjoying the story thus far, and I hope this update time was not too much of a wait!

Valkyrie-Sythe: Very glad you are continuing to enjoy the story, and thank you for reviewing! I am quite excited to share the quidditch holiday and its ensuing drama… I hope you found it entertaining as well! Severus being forced to tag along was a temptation too delicious to ignore, and we haven't seen much of him for a few chapters now. It was exciting to get into his head again. I appreciate your understanding as well; I am working hard on the story, but sadly life sometimes gets in the way of speedy updates when you're essentially an incubator :). Hopefully, things will calm down a bit in the next few weeks.

LordTicky: Thank you again for your review! And an excellent question – one which has long intrigued me (and a big reason I chose to bring this up in the chapter). In canon, the date of the Potters' deaths is not mentioned until Harry visits their graves in Godric's Hollow. No other mention of the precise date is given, though there is a reference to it being in the week before Guy Fawkes night in PS. I always found it odd that, if Harry had known the date growing up, he never made reference to it during his Hogwarts years (and odd in general, because what child would not ask to know when his parents had been killed?). That's why I decided to proceed under the premise addressed in Chapter 18. I do hope it made sense!

AlsoKnownAsMatt: Thank you for your review! As I've said – this is a canon-based story which will evolve slowly in its own directions, so there will of course be some changes in both character development and events as fits the changing circumstances. I think I've addressed this in responses to some other reviewers, but essentially I am working on a sort of vector with regard to canon. That being said, I do not intend to alter the nature of either Harry or Snape to a point which would be unbelievable in the universe I am developing. Your concerns are noted… but I don't think my thoughts on the characters are aligned quite as precisely with what you have conjectured. For one, my own thoughts are generally not reflected in the characters' internal debates… I try to keep those specific to how the described character is feeling, not how I see the situation. And I certainly do not intend this as a 'Snape as Harry's mentor'-type story. Nor, do I believe, Snape would be particularly happy with that outcome. I do think you are partially right on Snape's motivations for fighting for the light… certainly Lily's death is his motivation for switching sides, and his primary reason for continuing to work for Albus. However, I think it has become more complex over the intervening years. We haven't really got into the scar factor much (outside some of Harry's nightmares)… but I think you'll see the way that plays out will make sense when the time comes. But 'forcing' their interactions is a choice I have made for several reasons… for one, it fits with Dumbledore's character, for another, it is necessary given Harry's situation at the castle, and certainly it falls within the terms of his protection. I don't believe it has greatly altered his behaviour at this point – at least not out of what I was hoping for in crafting this story; but it makes the dynamic between him and Harry more complex than in canon. A fairly natural consequence to Harry's living at the castle, which is the main point of diversion that began the story. As to Harry's future romantic life… I know several readers have expressed very strong opinions on different pairings for him, and concerns about others. I will say, I do not exactly dislike Harry and Ginny… but nor do I think it was necessarily the most logical choice of direction in the canon books. I do like Harry and Hermione, but again, that raises a whole new set of complications. I have a pretty firm idea of where I will end up with the decision, but we won't be there for a while. I do hope you enjoy the way it plays out!

Imortalglee: Thank you for reviewing! I'm very glad you liked Chapter 18 so much, and hope Chapter 19 lived up to expectations! I'm also very happy to hear you've liked the portrayal of Albus here; evil Albus fics are definitely not my favourite storyline… and certainly not where I wanted to go. It's nice that there are readers out there still interested in a good Dumbledore! Fingers crossed that everything goes a little more smoothly with babies in future… but sadly I think my mother is in it for the marathon.

Psitomer: Thank you again for your review! It's great to hear you liked the chapter! And yes… I do rather think Snape feels he's been given Mary Poppins duties a bit this summer, much to his undeniable horror. You've made me laugh with your rant about the movie characterisations; but I can hardly disagree. The movie Ginny rather ruined the romance side of things for me. And good luck with your second 'Talk,' when it comes… my father was certainly horrified at the prospect of my dating as well :). So, to Harry… yes, he's definitely become a bit more perceptive, having spent more individual time with both Dumbledore and Snape at this point. And he doesn't see things quite as black-and-white (although, in my opinion, that was something book-Harry struggles to grasp all the way into DH). Certainly he sees nuances and differences Ron, as yet, cannot. That plays out a bit more in this chapter, as you have probably seen. I'd definitely like to incorporate some non-European magic; I think the storyline could include at least some reference to other realms of possibility. I'll think on how to do it properly. As for James… he's actually not generally the smothering type (much to my preference). However, he turns a bit that way when there's something medically going on, which I suppose is only natural for him. But yes, it can certainly get tiring at times. I am excited to see him with the babies though… probably more excited for that than even for the moment I can finally hold them myself.

In any case, I hope you enjoy Chapter 19!