Disclaimer: I don't own any of this stuff. I've said that so many times, I think I'm blue in the face.

A/N: It took me a while to get this chapter written, and finals week interrupted me too much for it to get finished before Christmas break. So I'm sorry for the horribly long wait, and to make up for it I'm doing my best to make it longer than usual. Enjoy the read and tell me what you think.

By the way, I haven't read over this as much as I would like, so please excuse grammar and spelling errors until I get the chance to correct them.

Miss Laine.

0000000000000000 Chapter 28: Secrets and Spells 00000000000

Ron didn't stop talking about and plotting about the Ravenclaw match by the next morning, or even after several days. If anything, his determination to examine their next opponent from every angle increased, and Harry found himself purposely avoiding any Quidditch-related topics. He loved the sport, he loved playing the sport, but he did not love hearing about every little thing the Ravenclaw team might do at some point during their match.

Hermione, too, seemed to have grown obviously irritated by all the talk of Quidditch, and about the only thing that could get Ron's mind off the upcoming match was DA meetings.

That was another thing that was going…interestingly, Harry mused. The 'public' meetings were still being held and a dedicated group of about sixty were attending every week. At their last meeting, Harry had started those third year and below on summoning and banishing charms for much larger objects than they used in class, while everyone fourth year and above was now working on several different types of disillusionment spells. Just about everyone was progressing well, and several times Dumbledore himself had stopped by to give pointers and chat amiably with students.

On the other hand, the private meetings were not going well. Several…actually, Harry admitted to himself, most of the members of that club had dropped out after getting no results for so long, and now only he, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were left, still trying four nights a week to become animagi. He'd already decided that the next time they met would be when they tried an alternate way to find their animagus forms.

All in all, he felt, things were going all right.

Except for the nightmares.

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

"You all right, mate?" Ron asked, looking concerned. Harry shrugged, though it made his tense shoulders feel worse.

"I'm fine," he assured his friend automatically. Hermione gave him a once-over, and then eyed him skeptically.

"Liar," she stated, setting the book she'd been reading down on the table. "Tell us what's going on, Harry."

He made a face. "Nightmares, I guess," he admitted. Hermione's expression melted into a worried, scared face.

"A-are they about…?" she asked, not finishing the sentence.

"Normal stuff," Harry supplied, more than eager to get to DADA, though they were starting on offensive spells in their last few weeks of November. Usually, he'd be excited by this, but he really didn't want to have to face off with Professor Murkwater in any way.

Over the past several weeks, his opinion of the professor had oscillated wildly between vehement distrust and respect. He hid his opinion as well as he could, unwilling to let the man see whether Harry was watching him or not. Some days, it would seem like Murkwater was purposely trying to ferret information out of him, asking about the Third Task or about what had happened on the train ride to Hogwarts. Harry gave up as little as possible—in the second case, it was simple, since he'd been unconscious for the majority of it.

Other days, Murkwater kept his questions to a minimum and instead spent a great deal of effort to teach Harry new spells aside from the other students. While the others would work on a more basic shield spell or defensive spell, Murkwater would carefully ease him aside and then focus on his ability to do passive magic. Murkwater would teach him spells that Harry was certain were usually taught primarily to Aurors, and then show him how to defeat the spells if others used them.

The respect came from the fact that he quickly realized that Murkwater really knew his stuff. He was knowledgeable, professional, and experienced. And his classes showed it. Harry was certain that this year, everyone was learning something in DADA.

Of course, he told himself, everyone had learned from Moody, but it hadn't really been Moody. And so he agreed in his mind to disagree. He wouldn't trust Murkwater, but he wouldn't spend all his time looking for conspiracies involving the man.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as the three made it to the classroom, filing in well before the bell and taking their customary seats in the middle of the room. The rest of the class was mostly there, all eager to start their new topic, and Harry felt for his wand, tucked in his pocket, feeling as if he were in danger already.

"Stupefy!" Murkwater's voice rang out. Harry watched three students to his left keel over. "Petrificus Maximus!" Murkwater said.

Harry already had his wand out. "Protectus!" he said, raising a strong shield. He knew a few others that would have worked better, but he couldn't hold them as long.

Next to him, Hermione and Ron were raising their own shields, while more stunners and a few other spells came zooming around them, taking out students right and left. A few of the more seasoned members of the DA managed to raise shields, but Harry noticed that no one was taking the offensive. Students were still falling, he saw, and he decided to act. Murkwater hadn't told them that they couldn't return fire.

"Rictusempra!" he shouted, banishing his shield in order to cast the spell. The yellow light grazed harmlessly off the professor's shield, which blossomed white around him at the last moment, and Harry thought he saw Murkwater smile before turning his full attention onto him.

"Flagre!" Murkwater said. Harry dove left, ducking a desk in order to avoid the ball of flames.

"Flagrate!" Harry returned, realizing that Murkwater meant business. The spell, which Hermione had used the year before to mark doorways, also worked well as a widespread barrage of fire.

Harry had found that out in DA, when someone had missed their mark and caught the drapes in the Room of Requirement on fire.

"Protego!" Murkwater said quickly, meanwhile slashing his wand down in a sudden movement. Harry raised his own shield as quickly as he could, but the spell had been invisible, and he felt it ram his shield hard, knocking him backwards.

"Petrificus!" Harry shouted, aiming as best he could and moving quickly.

The spell hit Murkwater, Harry was surprised to see—and then saw that Hermione had kept Murkwater busy with a stunning spell that he had to block. Murkwater's left arm and leg seized up, and the man stumbled a step before finding his balance on the remaining limbs that he could still use.

"Expelliarmus!" Murkwater said.

"Protego!" Harry shouted, but the spell wasn't aimed for him. Hermione's wand was ripped from her hand, and with a startled gasp his friend fell backwards onto the floor.

"Accio Wand!" Harry shouted, forcing Hermione's wand to come towards him. He lunged for it even as it wobbled between commands, and Harry ducked the stunner Murkwater sent towards him almost before he realized it was coming.

"Good, Potter!" Murkwater said. "Stupefy!" he shouted again.

Harry threw Hermione's wand towards the girl, making sure she caught it, smiling gratefully, before twisting away from the red jet of light and sending his own stunner back the other way.

"Accio Tapestry!" he heard Hermione shout, and he saw that the huge wall hanging behind Murkwater was pulling free of the wall. Murkwater turned, raising his wand to banish the tapestry away from himself, and Harry took the opportunity to stun the professor squarely between the back.

Harry looked over at Hermione, giving her a triumphant smile, and then looked around the rest of the classroom. Ron was sitting on the ground, rubbing his head, and over half of the other students were out cold on the floor. The rest were staring at him in a mixture of awe and fear.

"You all right, Ron?" Harry asked. Ron gave him a watery smile.

"Hit my head dodging something nasty," Ron admitted sheepishly. "Some help I was." Hermione rushed to his side, kneeling beside him.

"Does it hurt?" she asked him, and Harry almost gagged at her gushing tones. He rolled his eyes instead, then strode up the short flight of stairs to where Murkwater lay, still just a few feet outside his office door.

He hesitated, wondering if he should do this thing right, and finally settled on binding his professor with ropes before casting enervate to wake the man.

Murkwater came to quickly, blinking rapidly and struggling momentarily against the bindings. Once the man realized that he was tied tightly, he smiled up at Harry. "Well done, Potter. I'd say you and Ms. Granger are the only two to get full points today."

Harry smiled. "Thanks," he said. Murkwater wriggled a bit.

"Don't suppose you'll be letting me go any time soon, Mr. Potter?" the professor hinted. Harry started.

"Oh, sure, sir," he said, waving his wand. The ropes disappear, and Murkwater sat up gingerly, rubbing a shoulder. The man got up quickly, though, and surveyed the classroom.

"That was your introduction to offensive spells," Murkwater announced. "Consider yourselves warned."

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Murkwater's 'practical' class was the talk of the school the entire next day. It seemed that everyone fourth year and above had been put through his attack, and only a few of the sixth and seventh year classes had managed to fight back enough to win. Of course, Harry assumed, Murkwater was probably holding back, but that didn't mean he was going that easily on them. He knew for a fact that the other fifth year group hadn't managed to stun or otherwise incapacitate the man.

"I heard Potter hid behind his desk and let that mudblood handle Professor Murkwater," Harry heard on his way to lunch. He could see Ron's hand tightening convulsively on Hermione's arm, but Harry didn't act as if he'd heard. He just walked on past the sullen, pale teenager and headed towards the Gryffindor table.

He was intercepted, though, less then twenty feet from his seat by Julie, who was grinning brightly and walking with a definite bounce in her step. "Hey, Harry!" she said. Harry smiled uncertainly back.

"Er, hi, Julie," Harry responded, feeling awkward. "Er…"

"You doing anything for lunch?" the girl asked. Harry blushed beet red, knowing that Ron and Hermione, walking just ahead of him, had to have heard.

"Er," he said again, feeling very unsure of himself. "Uh, no, I guess," he admitted. He caught sight of Ginny and Luna sitting near his and his friend's usual lunch time spot, and hesitantly stopped. "Why?" he asked.

Julie looked down, hands twisting nervously. "I—I was wondering if you'd like to eat lunch with me," she said. Harry hesitated for the dozenth time or so. He liked Julie and all, but as a friend. Something that he'd not managed to convince Ron and Hermione of, though.

"I—I don't know," he said. "I usually eat lunch here…but…if you want to eat with us…" he floundered.

Julie looked up at him. "I thought you liked me!" she accused. Harry backpedaled fast.

"I—I do," he said. "But as a friend!" he clarified. Julie's face was slowly turning red, and Harry thought he could see steam coming out of her ears.

"You led me on," she growled, "Making me think that you, Harry Potter, was interested in me, and all the while you were just playing around!"

"That's not what I meant to do!" Harry told her. "I didn't realize—"

"You're going to regret it, Harry," she snapped, then stormed away. Harry watched the odd Hufflepuff girl stomp away, jaw hanging. He shook his head in wonder at the girl's temperamental display of whatever, then caught up to his friends already at the Gryffindor table.

"What was that about?" Ron asked, grinning. Harry glared at his friend.

"Julie thinks I wanted her to be my girlfriend or something," Harry said.

Hermione blinked at him. "Didn't you?" she asked. Harry shook his head.

"No!" he said. "How many times do I have to say it? She's nice and all, but I don't think she and I were really going to have any chance at anything. I hardly know her!"

"Could've fooled me," Ron muttered, shaking his head. Luna gave him a typical Luna smile—one that was focused on the far wall, rather than him.

"You didn't fool me, Harry," Luna assured him. "I could tell that she wouldn't ever work for you."

"Thanks, Luna," he said gratefully, kind of worried that the only one that believed him was the only one that everyone else thought was crazy. "At least one person believes me," he muttered.

Ron raised his eyebrows as if to say 'yeah…but it's Luna,' and Harry studiously ignored him. "Well, I didn't want to and I don't want to go out with her," he said. "And she got really upset."

Hermione sighed. "Well…"

"Well what?" Harry demanded.

"Well, she thought she was going to be dating the famous Harry Potter," Hermione told him. "She might have mentioned it to her friends or something, and now she's got to tell them that you didn't even think of it. That's gotta hurt."

"It's not my fault!" Harry snapped angrily, stabbing at his sandwich with his fork. Hermione took the fork from him, setting it down on her other side.

"Harry, it doesn't matter whose fault it is!" she told him sharply. "She's upset, deal with it! If you still want to be her friend, you'll explain it to her better and win her back. If you don't care, leave her alone. She'll get over it, and you can go back to not knowing her!"

Harry glared at Hermione, then gave up. She was right, as she usually was. "Fine," he sighed, turning back to his plate. "I'll talk to her tomorrow, after she's had a chance to calm down some. She might hex me as soon as she sees me, right now."

"Good boy," Hermione told him, patting his shoulder. Ginny giggled at him, then stood up as Dean Thomas came into the hall, waving for him to come over. Ron saw and frowned.

"Don't know what she sees in him," Ron muttered moodily. Harry rolled his eyes and kept eating.

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

"We're going to try something different this evening," Harry announced, though really only four people were with him in the Room of Requirement. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked. "Will it be something that actually works?"

Harry nodded and smiled. "Yeah, it probably will," he said. "I didn't want to say until we had this group down to those that were in it for the long run, but a few weeks ago I got a long letter from Remus, explaining what worked best for Sirius and my Dad."

He left Wormtail out of it, willing himself to pretend that the betraying rat had never existed. "So instead of the spell we've been using, try this."

He pointed his wand at his other hand, concentrating clearly on the appendage. "Animagus Verita," he said forcefully.

He felt a strong tingling in his hand—as he had when he'd secretly tried the spell a few days after getting the letter—and this time watched as his skin turned reddish and his fingernails grew into curved black claws.

He heard Hermione gasp, and in the moment that he looked up the spell ended and his hand reverted to normal. "Well, anyway, I think it might work faster," he said with a grin.

The others wasted no time in trying out the spell on their own limbs, and Harry was just starting again when he heard Hermione cry out.

"I've got it!" he heard her cry excitedly, and the others stopped and looked over as she held up a fur-covered arm triumphantly. "What is it?" she asked a moment later.

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Ginny all examined the furry arm carefully, and then Ron suddenly laughed. "That looks like cat fur, Hermione!" he told her. Harry smiled too, thinking of when Hermione had taken the polyjuice potion with cat hair in it.

Hermione's smile fell a moment, but then returned again full force. "So?" she said. "Maybe it's a tiger!"

Harry eyed the orange-ish fur, thinking it looked more like the ragged fur of Crookshanks, then smiled again. "Well, come on," he said. "She did it, so that's two of us. I'm sure the rest of you can get at least that far tonight, and then next week we'll start on more."

"Why not tomorrow?" Ginny asked excitedly.

"Everyone probably thinks we've given up by now," he explained. "It'd be suspicious if they saw us still getting together every night."

The others nodded, seeing his point, and then all returned to practicing the incantation. By five minutes to curfew, Ron had managed what looked like a yellowish tint to his arm, but Neville and Ginny were still unable to produce any effect, though both felt the tingling much more than they had with the other spell.

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

He heaved into the trash can once more, grimacing miserably at the pain it caused through his sore and aching ribs. His mouth burned, his throat felt raw, and his vision was swimming with tears of pain and misery.

Carefully, he sat up again, keeping an arm resting across the edge of the toilet, and silently thanked Filch for actually cleaning the toilets every night.

It meant that he had a nice, clean toilet to throw up into whenever he needed it. And he was needing it more and more often, as his odd and disturbing dreams had become worse over the last week. More often than not, a normal nightmare about Sirius or Cedric would morph into something horribly wrong—like Sirius, the death eater, torturing a child. Or his mother, pledging allegiance to Voldemort. And always, in the background, would be the stone fortress, standing impassive and impenetrable on the hillside.

The worst part, worse even than the images of his friends all turning against him, was that he couldn't figure out what the visions meant. He had finally mentioned them to Dumbledore, but the wizard could offer not insight—he seemed to feel that they were dreams, and Harry didn't feel like pushing his opinion that strongly. He wouldn't be fooled by these visions, he knew, and he was starting to wonder if he would ever figure out what they were about.

This last dream/vision had been one of the worst, though he thought that about each one. Sirius had been the star of this one…his godfather had started out smiling and healthy, much like he was in the wedding picture that Harry owned, but then he deteriorated into a sickening caricature of his older self, limp greasy hair hanging around a skeletally thin head and pale eyes washed out to nothingness. That was something Harry normally dealt with, though. It was much better than the nightmares he'd had at first of Sirius blaming him for his death.

It got worse, though. The ragged Sirius would suddenly don Death Eater garb and commit some heinous act. Tonight, Sirius had used some sort of horrible curse that had dismembered a young woman with pretty blonde hair and large blue eyes. The cruel laughter coming from Sirius's mouth as the young woman had bled to death on the stone floor, her forearms and lower legs no longer attached to the rest of her body, echoed in his head even now.

As soon as he was able, Harry would force himself out of his dreams, trying his best to escape before the worse of it.

The part where Voldemort appeared, standing on the ramparts of the fortress, smiling coldly. Harry knew then, with utmost certainty, that Voldemort had won. If he ever stood on those walls, looking over the world from inside that impenetrable castle, then all would be lost. No one, not even some prophecy, would be able to stop him then.

It would be over.

Harry heaved again, stomach empty but still clenching sharply at the mere thought of his dream, still so fresh in his mind. His hands shook with exhausted as he pushed himself up from the cool tile floor, flushing the toilet before staggering out of the stall and over to a sink.

He'd told Dumbledore about the nightmares, and had insisted as much as he could that something was definitely going on. His recurring dream about the stone fortress had not faded in the least, though for the moment it seemed to have stabilized. He no longer progressed in any way towards the fortress, but instead spent the better part of those dreams trying to reach the circle of figures standing at its base.

Dumbledore seemed to be at a loss when it came to Harry's 'visions,' though he wasn't going to believe for an instant that the headmaster was telling him everything. He had enough experience now to know that the old wizard would keep something from him if he felt it was the 'right thing to do.'

As it was, though, Dumbledore was doing what he could, and Harry had taken to perusing the library for books that seemed helpful—like The Seer in You, and Old Castles and Where to Find Them. Of course, neither book had been helpful, but there really wasn't that much for him to choose from. He just had to keep taking the vision-blocking potion and hope that the dreams explained themselves soon or went away.

He ran cold water over his hands, trying to still their slight tremors, then splashed his face quickly with the chilly water. Movement caught his eye and he looked up into the mirror above the sink, almost startled at the face that peered back at him.

His face was pale and drawn, dark circles under his eyes, and he splashed the cold water almost violently in order to try to wash away his haggard appearance. He knew it wouldn't work—it never did—but he hoped it would be enough to keep him from falling back to sleep at all that night.

As if he could stay awake, he thought bitterly as he trudged back towards the sixth year dorms. He was already feeling sleepy again, despite his fear of having more dreams. The potion he took each night ensured that he slept until morning, though he could force himself to stay awake for a short period of time. Usually in order to escape his dreams, and perhaps stagger to the loo and throw up. But then he'd be falling-down drowsy by the time he managed to stagger into the dorm.

Of course, the potion was better than nothing, and he knew he had to at least attempt sleep anyways. He'd used all of his willpower and managed to stay awake a few times before, and always the next day had been torture, seemingly unending because of his tiredness and stiffness.

"All right?" he heard Ron mumble somewhere to his left. Harry sighed and flopped down on his bed, ignoring the twisted sheets.

"Yeah," he said. "Just needed to use the loo," he lied. He couldn't see Ron in the darkness, so had no way to know if his friend believed him or not.

There was no response to his excuse, though, and Harry let his eyes slide closed once more, falling back into his supposedly vision-less sleep.

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

It took Harry two days to finally work up the courage and especially the energy needed to hunt down Julie and try to talk to her. He had no idea what he was going to say to her—nothing came to mind—but he was going to find her and do his best to make everything right between them.

He honestly hadn't realized that he'd been leading her on, though he was sure that some girl could probably have read more into their friendship. Admittedly, he didn't exactly have much experience with relationships with other people, having had no friends until he was eleven, but he thought he'd been clear. Julie was nice and all, but she hadn't faced Voldemort, or any danger at all. She hadn't had to make any decisions in her life that had led to death or life. She had no idea what he was like, and he couldn't imagine her ever learning.

"Julie!" he called, catching a glimpse of the girl as she came out of the great hall after dinner and turned to head to Hufflepuff's commons. He saw her hesitate, then finally stop and turn to face him.

He jogged up to her, not wanting her to escape. "We need to talk," he told her. "I need to apologize."

Julie gave him a small smile, though she still looked embarrassed. "No, it's all right, Harry," she told him. Harry blinked.

"W-what?" he stuttered. "But I thought you were mad?"

"I was…because I was embarrassed," she told him. "I told my best friend that you were interested in me, and then I had to told her that you'd never said we'd go out. I still want to be friends, though?" Her last words were almost a plead. Harry grinned.

"Yeah, of course!" he agreed. "I just thought that you…"

"I'm not mad, all right?" she assured him. "You didn't do anything wrong, I promise."

"Are you sure?" he asked, dubious. She sure had been mad at him…"

"Sure," she said. "Friends still?"

"Yeah," he said. "Er…I've got schoolwork to do, so I'd better go," he told her. "See you around, Julie."

Julie gave him her bright smile. "Definitely."

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Saturday came, and with it came their next Quidditch match. Hermione had finally resorted to kissing Ron whenever he tried to talk strategy, effectively shutting the teen up but making Harry distinctly uncomfortable. He was already on edge from his increasingly disturbing nightmares, as well as his own nervous excitement for the coming match.

And now it was here, and Harry wasn't so sure that he was that excited after all. He felt tired and stiff from lack of good sleep, and all he really wanted to do was go back to his dorm and sleep.

The only hope he had, he figured, was the fact that the sooner the match started, the sooner it would be over. He knew that his friends had absolutely no love for Cho Chang, and Julie had actually spent the past several days grumbling about how much she detested the seventh year Ravenclaw. Harry had laughed at her worry, telling her repeatedly that he planned to fly Cho into the ground in order to get the snitch, but at the same time he wondered if Julie's animosity stemmed from the fact that he'd had a crush on Cho, and had even kissed (or been kissed by) Cho. And he wasn't interested in Julie in that way.

He just wasn't sure how to tell her that he wasn't interested in Cho anymore, either. He could barely remember why he'd had a crush on the girl before…of course, back at the start of fourth year he'd been naïve and hadn't seen any of the horrors of Voldemort.

Harry suddenly noticed the faint roar of the crowds and the silence of his teammates all watching him. "Ready?" he asked, to break the silence. Everyone glared at his jaunty attitude.

He gave his teammates another quick grin, watching Ginny swallow nervously as she mounted her broom. The team was ready to go. "GRRRRRRRRYFINDOR!!" the announcer shouted.

"Let's win this, all right?" Ron said quietly, almost pleading. Harry rolled his eyes, and as the doors opened wide he zoomed out along with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

The blinding sunlight of the cold winter day made him blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness, but his eyes accustomed quickly and he soared around the pitch, just enjoying the feeling of the air rushing around him.

He realized with a start that the game was just about to begin, and he turned back to the center of the pitch and steered gently until he was just across from Cho. The girl gave him what he now realized was a very flirtatious smile, and he smiled, trying to pretend that he didn't understand the meaning of her coy smile and fluttered lashes.

"AND THE SNITCH AND BLUDGERS HAVE BEEN RELEASED!" shouted what Harry realize was Colin Creevey. He wondered a moment why the announcer was almost always a Gryffindor, then thought about it. Gryffindors tended to like being at the center of things, even if they didn't usually act like it. And Colin was probably a good choice, Harry admitted to himself reluctantly.

He turned his attention to the field again, as the bludgers zoomed away, whipping around and beginning their first attacks. There was the glint of gold as the snitch reflected the weak but bright winter sun, and then it too was gone.

Madame Hooch blew a whistle, and suddenly the game was underway. Cho stuck close to his side, content to shadow him, and made no attempts to speak with him. She had quit coming to the animagus meetings the week before, fed up with her lack of progress, and Harry hadn't tried to talk her out of it. The more people that left, the better, he felt. It had pared the group down to those that were the most dedicated to seeing this thing through, and also left the others with the impression that they would never succeed in becoming animagi.

They were still friends, sort of, though Cho still tended to defend Marietta's actions much too vocally, and Harry found himself still subconsciously avoiding the girl.

Focus on the game, he scolded himself. Cho was surveying the surrounding skies with a sharp eye, and Harry forced himself to do the same, knowing that the bright light would make it simple to see the glint of the snitch as it flew.

He heard as the score grew, Ravenclaw just ten behind Gryffindor, and watched Ron block a shot with an outstretched hand before suddenly homing in on the gold glint just behind the Gryffindor hoops.

His broom shot forward as he leaned against the handle, forcing it to accelerate as fast as it could, and more heard that saw Cho racing to catch up. The snitch stayed steady until he was just five feet from it, then suddenly began to move, zipping quickly around in an arc that he had a hard time copying.

Cho gained ground by making a shallower turn, and he saw her out of the corner of his eye as she pulled even with his knees, leaning flat against her broom. Harry pushed his own broom harder, forcing it faster, and almost before the snitch had turned he followed it, lunging forward in order to grab it tightly.

He only listened with half an ear to the announcement of Gryffindor's win, giving Cho a quick smile before spiraling back down to the ground to be congratulated by his team. Really, Harry was much more interested in a hot drink and a long nap, but his teammates forced him to join in the celebrations that night in their tower. It was only at two in the morning when they finally let Harry stagger up to his dormitory…

And he was so tired that he never realized that he fell asleep without taking the vision-blocking potion until it was much too late.

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

A/N: Sorry for the cliffie, but this is my first update since before Christmas break. I'll have another up in less than two days, I promise, and that way you won't have to wait long. Everything's been hectic lately, but on a good note I did well in my last semester. Now I just have to survive the current semester, then several more years of horrible and agonizing classes.

I would have updated much, much sooner, but to my frustration the internet has a mind of its own around here, as does my computer, and it's almost impossible for everything to be working. It's like the planets have to align or something.

Anyway, I'm also working on some new stuff, which I might post if I get enough done, and again I'm sorry for the wait.

Thanks for being patient, and thanks for reviewing! --Miss Laine