Chapter Twenty-Three: Pride Goeth Before a Fall
During the next two weeks, the Gryffindors rode the wave of delirious, all-consuming insurrection with amazing single-mindedness. Katie was back at captain; Harry and Ron were back at practice, completely healthy; and there was additional joy of knowing that every time they practiced, they were figuratively thumbing their nose at Head Auror Fornier.
The man was a dark fountain of menace everywhere he went, snapping orders at the Aurors, questioning students ad nauseum, and performing random searches of students' property, no matter which house they were in. If one house received more scrutiny than any other, it was the Slytherins.
Fornier, much to Ron's increasing sense of joy, pounced on Draco as mercilessly as a hunting owl with an empty stomach. Draco, for his part, did a fairly good imitation of a small rodent frozen in fear. He took whatever the Head Auror dished out as silently as possible, never even looking the man in the eye.
"I'm telling you something's not right," Hermione hissed as they passed Draco suffering yet again through a bag search with Fornier in his face.
Harry gave up trying to catch Draco's eye and as they rounded the corner, pulled Ginny's hand up to his face to rub it against his cheek. He'd found that it helped unwind the tight knot in his stomach. What had he done before Ginny? She squeezed his hand before turning to Hermione.
"So you want the Slytherins to go parading around with god-knows-what in their bags, knowing that they're planning at least three more attempts on Harry's life?"
Hermione gave Ginny a scowl. "Of course not! I'm glad they're being searched, but it just doesn't add up. Why is he harassing Harry, too, if he's here to protect him?"
This was something Harry had been kicking around and growing angrier over himself. His bag had been searched every day this week, even if not as often as Draco's.
"At first I thought it was only to make it look as if Fornier wasn't playing favorites, but now . . . he's gone beyond that. He's made Harry late for Potions twice this week."
"Yeah, it's lucky Snape is still being so . . . so . . ." Ron trailed off with a grimace. Rather than giving Harry detention for being late as he would have any other year, Snape had merely forced a ghastly smile and continued on with his lesson. Even Hermione had missed taking notes for the next few minutes as she, along with the entire class, sought to find familiar ground to stand on. Harry had noticed Ron hadn't closed his mouth afterward for a full five minutes. He'd tried to, but it just sort of fell back open again. Ron shuddered, then went on. "I dunno about Fornier. Seems to me he may be searching your bag to see if you've been pulling some of the pranks."
Due to several sets of unfortunate circumstances, Fornier was now finding himself in a stew of rather well-seasoned mutiny. First off, he had impeccably bad timing, coming to Hogwarts the year after Dolores Umbridge. Thus, the students were already disposed to begrudge Fornier any power given him by the ministry. Also, Harry had begun this year slightly more inclined to revolt than usual, given the summer he'd had, which, in addition to having fought off many death attempts while back at school, had only made the drive stronger.
Then it is necessary to factor in that the attacks by the Slytherins had only made the students (in majority) more sympathetic to Harry. They hated to see him further harassed and responded accordingly. Now, to cap it all off, Fred and George were back at Hogwarts. Now, put all these circumstances in a blender with steamed milk, and out comes an amazing, frothy Fornier-Is-Going-Down Frappe. Enjoy.
The day after Harry's Quidditch revolt, the Great Hall had somehow become inundated with small toy Snitches that amused the students by whizzing about and chirping the Hogwarts' School Song. As brilliant as the trick was, and as wonderful as it was to see Fornier trying his hardest to ignore the bright balls darting about, Professor Dumbledore ended the mischief with a wave of his hand.
As the Snitches fell, students scrambled to catch them, excited to see that they each contained a small prize inside—crunchy chocolate snowmen that showed an unusual resemblance to Auror Fornier and made the sound of tap-dancing when eaten. By that evening, a nice basket of the chocolates ended up on Fornier's desk, sent with love from a secret admirer, often credited to one or more of the Weasleys, though they never confessed.
Once the ball got rolling, Fornier's owl was loaded down every morning with pictures, cards and small chocolates from many secret admirers. At first, the Auror had the nerve to be flattered and walked around with a smug-but-slightly alarmed look on his face. Then, after a few more letters, he grew disturbed. Ultimately, he became paranoid, though the Headmaster convinced him nothing could be done to discourage students from expressing their thanks and devotion to a public figure such as himself.
By the beginning of the second week, Fornier became more aggressive with his searches and more distracted, scanning the students with a new, nervous tic in his left eye which made him look like he was winking.
Ginny was, naturally, the first to take advantage of this new weakness. After lunch one day, she sought Fornier out as Harry and the others watched from around the corner.
"Did you want to see me, sir?" she asked brightly.
He eyed her up and down as though she was a particularly venomous specimen of a doxy. "No. No—not at all. Go on to class, Miss Weasley."
"Are you . . . sure you don't want to see me now?"
"Quite sure. Now move on!"
She smiled coyly. "Did you maybe want to see me in private—later?"
"Merlin, child—no, of course not!"
Ginny looked so innocent and heartbroken as Fornier shooed her away that Harry had to physically hold Ron up—he was laughing that hard. And that was the beginning of the winkers—the name for various and sundry students who plagued Fornier claiming that he must have winked at them for some reason.
Hermione was finally able to schedule a meeting with the Headmaster, and reported back to Harry and Ron that the D.A. Galleons were now fully-operative Portkeys with the destination of Dumbledore's office.
"It's about bloody well time," Ron groused, "but how'd he do it for all of them when they're still in our pockets?"
"The Protean Charm I put on them was strong enough to carry it," Hermione replied demurely.
"Well done, Hermione," Harry said, in such obvious relief that the others both looked at him. "You've no idea what a load off my mind that is — knowing that if something happens to . . . that if you need to, all of you can get to safety. Brilliant work, really."
Harry thought he saw a flicker of worry in the looks they exchanged, so he quickly moved on to Quidditch talk. Gryffindor, after all, was getting ready for the first Quidditch match of the year—the season that Harry saved from being wiped out by Fornier. They had practice each night, hours on end to try all the new plays Katie had researched during her time off for the team.
"I had to do something with all that spare time," she'd laughed when Ron stared at her plans with his eyes bulging.
By Thursday night of that second week, they had added all the new plays to their repertoire and even Ron was satisfied with the variety.
"If I'd only known . . ." Ron faded off, his eyes dreamy as he stared into the fire, sprawled out on the couch, clean and rumpled after his shower. Harry, who was likewise clean and leaning back against Ginny on the couch as she fluffed his slightly damp hair, looked at Ron curiously, but was too comfortable to speak.
Hermione, reading in the wing chair opposite, had no such problem. "Yes—see, there was no need for you to be so rude to Katie. You should learn to control your temper, Ron."
"Wha'? No!" he sat up and turned to stare at her. "I meant that if I'd only known she'd do all this if I got her mad enough, I'd have pissed her off sooner."
Harry, whose mind had been preoccupied with a long, brown-paper wrapped package that hadn't arrived yet, fell back to musing. It had taken some doing, which included, but was not limited to, bribing Filch with information (partially true) about how the Slytherins had been behind some of the pranks against Fornier, ensuring that Ginny was not his bodyguard tomorrow afternoon, and figuring out a way to keep from being searched by Fornier in the hallway while he was in route. At last, he thought he had it all worked out.
After classes on Friday, Harry obeyed the expected summons to Filch's office, using Luna and Neville as look-outs and decoys so that he and Ron could get bypass Fornier and his gang of Aurors. Neville actually had to submit to being searched himself and Harry promised himself that he would pay his friend back somehow.
And as he stood back outside Filch's office, long, brown-paper wrapped package in hand, he didn't begrudge Filch the extra five Galleons he'd had to pay, nor the trouble getting it here. It would have been easier if he could have just bought it from Katie's Kwidditch Keeper, but with all the trouble Crabbe had brought with his Killing Curse and all the pandemonium afterwards, the brooms had been sent back to get checked for damage or curses.
But now it was here and Ginny was going to love it.
Heading back to the Common Room, Harry draped his Invisibility Cloak over the package and floated it behind him. Once more, Luna and Neville went in front of them, with no trouble this time.
Getting the gift past Ginny was going to be a problem, though. One at a time, he and Ron went though the additional security at the Common Room door—hardly noticed it now—and were surprised to see Violet Hooch standing in a circle of Gryffindors.
Ron and Harry exchanged looks. Violet was giving Ginny a hug, apparently having just returned. Hermione, as prefect, was standing with Violet, papers in hand.
"Glad you're back," Tobias said as Ginny stepped back. "I thought your Mum wasn't keen on you staying."
Violet shrugged. "It was my aunt that got me back here."
"Madame Hooch rocks!" someone yelled.
"She rocks hard," Violet agreed, spiking hair shaking vibrantly. "Mum was being so boring about the whole thing—'You'll be killed! It's too dangerous!' I kept telling her that it's only Slytherins that are dying and that's only because they keep messing with Harry—"
"Damn straight," Fred agreed loudly, to the cheers of the other Gryffindors, "no one messes with Harry and gets away with it!" More cheers. Harry, who was nearly hiding now back behind Ron, thumped his friend hard when he began cheering, too.
"Oy!" But Ron caught the hint and turned and headed up the stairs, letting Harry step in front of him to hide the view from behind and below. Dean, who was coming down the stairs, looked disgruntled and only waved as Harry greeted him. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't watching where his invisible package was pointing (as it was very long and very invisible) and Dean hunched over with a sudden, pain-filled grunt.
Harry was shoved back into Ron, who got poked with the other end of the package and nearly went off the stairs.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Dean ground out, sitting painfully on the stair.
"Sorry, mate," Harry whipped the package up vertically and hastened to Dean's side. "Present for Ginny. Sorry."
"'Course," Dean spat out, "'course the present you buy for Ginny just has to rack me in the balls! Why settle for just figurative?"
Harry froze. "What? What d'you mean?"
Ron, who had been busy grousing as well, stood below them, peering up at Dean. "Yeah, what's that supposed to mean?"
Dean looked down and struggled to his feet. "Nothing," he finally got out, breathing heavily. He gripped the railing all the way down, moving slowly amid the laughter and chattering of the group down below. Ron and Harry exchanged uneasy looks and watched him go.
"Hey, Harry!" Tobias called up to him. The whole group turned, and Harry saw by Ginny's mocking glance that she had known he was trying to sneak by her. Harry greeted the group and welcomed Violet back. When he looked back at Ginny, she raised her eyebrows and nodded toward Dean as if to say, What the hell was that?
Harry shrugged and moved the Invisibility Cloak-ed package behind him. Ron grabbed him and called down below, "Harry split his pants. Gotta' change."
Harry froze and stifled his protest, then let himself be hustled upstairs, turning slightly pink as laughter followed them all the way up.
"Getting too big for your britches, Potter?" Fred called up.
The laughter was broken by a single, clear voice. "In some places, Fred, dear," Ginny said suggestively, "but then you wouldn't know about that, would you?"
The stunned silence broke out into raucous hilarity and Harry went all the way to bright, burning red. Unfortunately, by staying upstairs and hoping the furor would die down, he gave the twins ample time to come up with more material, and found when he finally emerged from the dorm room that he now had a new title: "The One with the Big One." And Ginny, instead of joining Harry in his perpetually embarrassed state, had the nerve to look smug.
The day of the Quidditch match dawned cheerless and cold. A stiff breeze whistled through the halls of Hogwarts and everyone's thoughts lingered on winter before jumping full-tilt toward the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor match in late morning. It was easy to tell, because charmed, Everlasting Snowflakes had been set to follow Fornier around, changing into roaring lions if hexed. His retreat from breakfast that morning was not nearly as dignified as usual, between his tap-dancing, dodging Snowflakes, yelling at the other Aurors to hex them, and lions roaring every time they tried.
Professor McGonagall seemed to like them, as she merrily joined in, reassuring that she could get rid of the things, and then causing more roars than any of the Aurors as her hexes never seemed to actually get rid of them.
All in all, it was with a light heart that everyone turned out to the Quidditch pitch. Set against a blue sky the palest shade of perwinkle, the stadium was awash with colorful banners and flags waving in the playful breeze. The line of students filing out to the pitch was marked by Aurors at every thirty meters or so, and joined by many additional witches and wizards, all family members seeking to support their players or seeking reassurance that Hogwarts was safe. Dumbledore had welcomed them all. Indeed a large, smoke-written message gathered above the pitch.
Harry, leading the team to the locker room, was surprised to see it forming above.
"Welcome, parents, students, and distinguished guests, to the first Quidditch match of the season!"
"Distinguished guests, my arse," Ron muttered. "I hope he's not putting Fornier in that group."
"Should have read 'Welcome parents, students, distinguished guests and extreme mental cases,'" Ginny said.
The atmosphere was noticeably less buoyant in the locker room. After everyone was dressed, Katie rattled off the list of plays in the playbook, reminding the key players of their moves and the mental counts that went with them. Timing was everything in Quidditch.
Which was why Harry had chosen this moment.
As soon as Katie was through, and everyone was well into their last-five-minutes-before-a-game-routine, Harry pulled Ginny aside.
They stepped over behind a row of lockers and Ginny smiled up at him, her eyes narrowed, the dimple on her left cheek making an appearance. "You've been acting funny all morning. For the last few days actually. What's going on?"
Harry looked down at his shoes and swallowed, all the words he had planned suddenly spinning away like a snitches in mid-flight.
Ginny nudged him. "Now don't do that. It's just me, you prat."
"I know, it's just—" he took a deep breath, "I don't know if you'll . . . get mad at me or not."
"If you don't tell me, then I really will get mad."
"Here." Harry reached behind him into an unoccupied locker and pulled out the brown-paper wrapped parcel. It was long and decidedly broom-like in shape, and Ginny's mouth formed a small "o." She dropped to the bench and started ripping off the paper.
"Oh, if you . . . you can't have . . .Oh! You did!" she cried out and then gasped in a huge breath again. "A Firebolt Beam . . ." The awe in her voice and the look of rapture on her face gave Harry a warm, squishy feeling he'd not often had. She liked it.
"Harry!" Katie's commanding voice barked from across the room. "She can't fly on that today. It's a new broom. It may throw her entire game off."
Harry blinked. "But . . ." That simply had not occurred to him.
Ginny stood slowly and stiffly in front of Harry. "I can fly on any broom, thank you, Katie. Thank you, Harry. I love it." Then, with a hug, she dropped her formal tone and whispered in his hear. "And I love you. I'll give you a better thank you later."
Harry went hot all over, sweat prickling in interesting places, and then managed to choke out, "I'm glad you like it."
She pecked him on the cheek and then faced the team brightly. "Everyone ready to go?"
Harry walked to the center of the room and stretched his hand out. "Go," he said forcefully, the beginning of the ritual he had begun during his brief time of captaining in Katie's absence.
The others moved in to form a circle, broom in one hand, the other placed on top of Harry's, each saying, "Go!"
When all had joined in, they pumped their hands in time with the words, "Go, go Gryffindor—GO!"
The students roared as the Gryffindors took the pitch.
"And here is the Gryffindor Quidditch team: Potter, Weasley, Weasley, Bell, new Chaser Hoffman, new Beater Grady, and other new Beater Headly."
Katie, who had turned to face the Gryffindor crowd, paused and grabbed at Ginny. "Isn't that your Mum?"
"Where?"
"There, beside that man—oh, that's your father, isn't it? Nice red hair. Should have known."
"Oh yeah—that's Dad! Dad! Mum!" She waved like mad. "Look, Ron, Harry! It's Mum and Dad."
"Bugger. It is." Ron went a bit pale. "And I didn't even know."
"But it's a good thing they're here, Ron, right?" Ginny prodded him.
"Well, yeah, but I didn't even have time to . . . get ready . . . you know."
"Which is probably why they didn't tell us they'd be here. They knew you'd have more time to get nervous. Just wave, you clot."
Harry waved as well and smiled to see them finally wave back. Ginny turned and gave Harry a peck on the cheek. "Break a broomstick, love."
The Gryffindors all went Oooooooooo and Harry turned bright red. "You as well." He squeezed her hand and then watched her mount her broom and rise with the other Gryffindors. Ron gave him a shaky wave and took off.
"The big mystery today is whether or not this team, which has been patched together so many times as Potter has grown from First Year Seeker to Sixth Year, can pull together to offset the sleek stylings of the Ravenclaw team which returns this year in its entirety."
The Ravenclaw team was already up and flying, except for their captain and Seeker—Cho Chang. Madame Hooch and Cho waited for him, as Katie had left his name as co-captain on the roster, at mid-field. Harry jogged over, noticing how Cho's eyes were drilling into his own.
"It will be an interesting match. Ravenclaw had a mediocre season last year, but having all of the same players should have given them time to improve. And word in the hallway is that 'improve' is a weak word to describe what they've been doing!"
"Hello, Mr. Potter," Madame Hooch said, "are you feeling well?"
"Yes, ma'am. And my team is ready."
"Catch that fantastic move by Fourth Year Neal McDonald! What a Woollongong Shimmy! Look out Gryffindor Chasers, this boy has been doing his homework!"
"Very well. And Miss Chang, are you feeling well today?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And your team?" the professor went on, "Are they feeling well and ready to fly?"
"They are feeling . . . ready to win," Cho gave Harry a sideways look with a small smile.
Harry grinned. "See you in the air."
"On the Gryffindor side of the field, let me direct your attention to the always breath-taking Ginny Weasley, beautiful on the field and in the air—"
Harry stood there, one arm on his broom, the other hand clenched in a fist by his side, and frowned up at the table where the new commentator was seated, a Fourth Year Hufflepuff named Brian Moss.
"I must say that I'm glad to see her spread her wings as Chaser this year. I always felt that the Seeker position was best held by Potter and I'm glad that he's back out there . . . standing on the field staring at me for some reason. What?" he called down to Harry. "Did I say something wrong?"
There was muttered whispering from a smaller figure beside Brian, and then his very sheepish voice came back on.
"Let me amend my earlier statement to say the 'always breath-taking and, of course, already taken, Ginny Weasley, who seems to be spinning around the pitch on the newest broom from the Firebolt line—the Beam. Rumor has it that the broom was a gift from her very possessive and er, very powerful boyfriend, Harry Potter himself. I'm sure all of Gryffindor will be glad of that gift by the end of the game today." There was the noise of a throat being cleared. "How was that, Harry?"
Harry gave the box one more glare and then lifted off. Madame Hooch's whistle blew just as he got into place. Below him, the players zipped into action and the roar of the crowd picked up. Harry automatically began scanning the pitch, his eyes working in the natural rhythm he had developed over the years. For a moment, he tuned into the running commentary.
"Ravenclaw is on the offensive at the start of the game today, which is only appropriate seeing as they'll need every scoring opportunity available to try and best Potter and his sturdy team of Gryffindors."
More whispering from the commentary box, then another voice came on.
"I think it's time that a girl gave some commentary." A cheer went up from the stands—mostly from the girls. "I can't believe you called the Gryffindors 'sturdy.' You make them all sound plump or something!"
Harry couldn't help smiling as Brian came back on.
"Er . . . this is my . . ."
"Girlfriend, Brian, the word is girlfriend."
"Right. Er . . . this is my girlfriend, Winnie Condalary, and she thinks it would be good to get a girl's perspective on the game. And so do some of the faculty. So."
"Yes, I do. For one thing, the Gryffindors are not sturdy at all. All of them are whip-thin except for that huge bear of a Keeper they have, Ron Weasley. And then the colors of the uniform—all that leather trimmed in gold—well, let me just say right now that no girl out here is thinking 'sturdy' when she looks at all those Gryffindor wizards."
"Win—nie!"
"Oh, you can talk about Ginny, but if I so much as mention the boys, you—what's that, Professor Flitwick? Oh, right—sorry. Anyway, the Ravenclaw team looks to be surprisingly good this year—I suppose you'd say something boring like they're dependable—"
"Well, I might—yes, but—"
"Which they aren't! They only won two games last year. They tend to be a bit uneven, with some brilliant moves by Cho, the darling captain of the team, and a trio of very strong Chasers, which you can see in action at this very moment."
"Yes. They are moving toward scoring position, keeping Weasley on his toes. And—what's that? Trevor Marsh swoops in and pins Weasley against the hoop!"
Harry did a quick one-eighty and watched in disbelief as Ron shoved hard back against the Ravenclaw player and pulled away from the goal hoop.
"The Quaffle tossed by Hughes went in, but—that's got to be the worst bit of stooging I've ever seen! A whistle from Madame Hooch confirms the foul. Is Weasley all right? Yes, he's all right, but he looks pissed."
"And Ginny Weasley pulls back to comfort him—no, wait, she's going after Trevor Marsh—another whistle! But she hasn't fouled him yet. A preemptive whistle?"
Harry watched with a mixture of alarm and pride as Ginny hunted Trevor down and pinned him against the lower wall of the stands—hard. The Gryffindors went wild.
"And Madame Hooch is giving a foul to each team. What was Weasley thinking?"
Winnie snorted. "She was thinking that Marsh shouldn't get away with it, of course!"
The two bickered back and forth until the action got going again. Harry, who had been shaking his head over the commentary, suddenly saw a flash of gold near the stands. He was off like a shot, the wind whistling in his ears, the commentary and calls of his teammates coagulating into a dull roar.
The Snitch shot off diagonally, and Harry stretched for it, but it spun by out of reach. Behind him, he heard Cho go whistling by in full pursuit. Damn. He jerked a turn and sped after her.
"It's a race to the Snitch—" Harry heard before the commentary became a blur again.
Cho was just ahead of him, the eddies from the tail of her broom creating turbulence in Harry's path. He moved up slowly, trying to get a better angle and more speed. Cho was almost there; the Snitch was a golden smear ahead. Harry put an extra burst of speed on and now he was with Cho, neck and neck. He kept his eye on the Snitch, but saw her head turn his way for just a second.
The Snitch dove and both of them careened downward breathlessly. Then, without warning, it flipped under and sped away below them. Harry vaulted his broom into a forward roll and slid to a stop, facing the way the Snitch had just sped away.
"What a move by Potter!" Brian enthused. "Has anyone ever seen that before? I mean, successfully done?"
Harry shook his head. He'd seen lots of players lose control of their broom that way.
"Harry!! Don't do it."
Who was that? Someone was screaming out of the crowd at him. He looked over and saw Hermione straining to get her voice to him. She was holding her wand to her throat.
"Harry! Don't get the—"
"Nice move, Harry," Cho called down to him, speeding away after the Snitch.
"I think we've just seen a new Quidditch move, perhaps one that will be named hereafter as the Potter Roll—"
Harry leaned down over his broom and flew like an arrow in the shallow trajectory the Snitch had taken.
"Can't you come up with a better name than that?"
Harry ignored the roar around him. Cho was ahead of him again! She'd nearly beaten him to the Snitch once before, and the memory of that near loss propelled him forward.
The Snitch angled up straight through the middle of the pitch, and Harry found himself dodging Ravenclaw Chasers as they closed in on Ron and the goal again, using a Hawkshead Attacking Formation this time.
"Well, that's new," Harry muttered, the wind snatching away his words. The Chasers were reaching the goal area and two peeled away, leaving Trevor Marsh alone with Quaffle, poised to toss it into a goal. Harry couldn't watch as the Snitch took him back due East again, toward the Ravenclaw goals.
It moved back through the center goal, and as Harry and Cho dodged the Keeper, they slowed down. Harry looked up, down, right and left, but the golden glint was gone.
Cho, looking desperately angry, gave Harry a look and peeled away to the right. Harry stayed where he was, hovering above the Ravenclaw goals, searching the sky. He took a quick look at the score board. No, Ravenclaw had not scored. Harry grinned. Ron was doing a great job. The Gryffindor section was going crazy. His parents must be so proud.
"Har—ry! Catch the Snitch! Har—ry! Catch the Snitch!" They hadn't done that one in a while. But it sounded a little strange, like there was an extra syllable in it. More like "Har—ry! Don't catch the Snitch!"
"What?" He looked over at the Gryffindor section and saw them all waving frantically. Several voices went loud, using a loudspeaker spell, but they all competed for his attention and nothing sounded clear enough to understand, especially with the commentary ongoing.
"Weasley just managed to dodge that Bludger, and now she's moving back into position to—no—now where's she going? Over to Potter?"
There she was, flying frantically at him, red hair flapping in the wind, her face tense enough to make him instantly on edge. Something was wrong. Harry pulled up on level with her.
"First she takes a go at Cho, can't chase her down so she turns on Potter? Does anyone else understand this?"
"Har—ry!" Hermione was trying again. "Don't catch the Snitch!"
He looked over at her in disbelief. "What?"
Ginny slammed to a halt beside him, her hand grabbing his broom and making them both rock.
"Pride!!!" she yelled, then sucked in a breath, "don't get the Snitch. It's a Portkey. We have to stop—"
"Cho," Harry breathed out, then looked up to see her single-mindedly pursuing the speeding ball. He touched Ginny on the hand, "Thanks," and then took off, his breath heaving, his heart pounding. He had to stop her. Otherwise—
Not another Charlie. No.
Ginny was beside him, screaming at Cho. They flew all out, players scattering around them. The game ground to a halt, but Cho was up so high that she hadn't noticed. Her eyes were fixed on the Snitch.
Closer and closer Harry drew. He could almost reach her broom. Cho reached out her hand, stretching toward the Snitch.
"NO!" Harry yelled.
"Don't touch it, Cho!" Ginny screamed, and the roar of other voices was at once deafening.
But Cho had found what she wanted. With a smile that Harry could barely see, she plucked the Snitch from the air.
"NO!" Harry yelled again.
Cho gave a low, barely-heard gasp and then—disappeared.
Ginny and Harry pulled up their brooms sharply, staring at the empty air. Harry was frozen inside. "They've got her," he mumbled. "The Death Eaters."
Then Ginny was in front of him, her broom nestled next to his, legs touching, her eyes boring into his. "I'm sure she's carrying her D.A. Galleon, Harry."
"What? But does she—know—about it?"
"Of course, Harry. We made sure all of the D.A. knew about it, but kept it a secret. She'll be okay. She'll get away." Harry nodded, still struggling to take in a decent breath. "All she has to do is say, 'Dumbledore's Office.' She'll remember."
And Harry could see that Ginny really thought it was true. She wasn't just saying that.
"I could use mine to go check," she offered. "But I don't want to leave you, honestly. Who knows what's going to—"
And suddenly, Harry's mind registered three things at once: one—people were shouting his name again; two—something dark and round was coming directly at him from the right side; and three—if he ducked, that something was going to hit Ginny.
"Harry!" she gasped.
Harry dove and rolled sideways, pushing Ginny's broom down and around a fraction of a second before she dove, the fraction that meant the difference between safety and broken bones. A Bludger whistled by.
"Harry!" Ginny yelled and he twisted to see the other Bludger coming from behind. Another dive, another roll, this time with Ginny splitting apart from Harry, and the other Bludger had missed as well.
"HARRY!" So many people were screaming his name that, without looking, he knew it was time to move again. He shot ahead, then rolled up and back in as narrow of an arc as he could make it, coming up behind the Bludger.
Damn. Not again.
They'd tampered with the Bludgers. How had they managed it? Last time it had broken his arm before it had been stopped, but with two—
Louder screams again. Harry's senses spun outward and up. One Bludger, coming down on him. With a gut-wrenching twist, he avoided the hurtling ball only to find that the other had corrected its trajectory and was heading straight for his face. Diving would take him too far forward, so Harry rolled to the right and headed for the goal posts on the Ravenclaw side.
From within the chaos of sounds—yelling, screams, furious winds going by—came the shrill sound of Madame Hooch's whistle. She was clearing the pitch. Good.
A few spells shot from fellow players, at least one that looked as if had been from Ron. But the Bludger was going so fast that it was nearly impossible to hit. And—
An Impedimenta that was spun from his right nearly connected with Harry. He swerved to avoid it, then ducked to miss the goal post and Sloth Rolled right to avoid the next Bludger attempt. At least the stupid things weren't going after anyone else. Not like the Portkey. Not like Cho.
This had to be another attempt from the Slytherins. They were piggy-backing them now, hoping if one didn't work, he'd be too distracted to cope with the next one coming so quickly.
"Fat chance," he muttered as she swung wide to avoid Trevor Marsh, who, for some reason hadn't made it all the way down to the ground yet. The Bludger passed right by Marsh and he spit out an Impedimenta curse that actually connected.
Actually connected and made the Bludger go . . . faster? Harry, close to panic now, flew even faster, Sensing the Bludgers—one coming from ahead and the other about to overtake him from behind. He managed to get around the slower Bludger and then both were after him. The world went by in a blur. A steady roar was in his ears. Tears leaked out of his eyes from the wind and he knew he was running out of pitch.
From behind him came a shout. Harry turned about in surprise. Charlie Weasley was on a broom, coming after him. He hadn't even realized Charlie had been there. And going that fast—?
Charlie was shouting something. Harry, looking past the Bludgers and at Charlie, tried to hear past the wind. What was he saying? At this speed, there probably wasn't anyone else who could keep up—
Harry jerked his broom down into a spectacular dive, heading straight for the ground. Behind him, he saw the Bludger edging nearer . . . nearer. Harry was slowing down bit by bit, closing the space between them. The stadium was steadily moving from a small, indistinct blur to a large pool of noise and color. Now the ground was coming up fast and the fast Bludger was right on his tail. Charlie had pulled off to the side, still shouting.
The ground was rushing up at Harry. He was in the stadium, down past the stands and staring at green grass before he began the Wronkski Feint—almost too late. He pulled up as hard as he could, feeling the strain against his arms, the pull of gravity on his broom. With a loud concussion, the fast Bludger hit the earth behind him. Harry pulled up and away and the slower Bludger swerved to follow.
"Good move, Harry!" Charlie was suddenly keeping pace, leaning hard over Ginny's new broom, yelling into the wind.
Harry just nodded, breathing too hard to speak. His arms were trembling.
"Listen, there are five D.A. members up on brooms, all of them with Portkeys. Just ditch the Bludger, spin around and try to slow down before you make contact. It will take both of you to Dumbledore's office."
Harry gave him a thumbs-up sign. "Evacuate the crowd! I may not be able . . . to keep it out of the stands!"
"I'm on it! You're doing great, Harry! Don't worry about us!"
Charlie slowed and was behind him in an instant.
The only way to get rid of the Bludger was to run it into something. But it was too agile to hit goal posts and he couldn't draw it into the stands until the crowd was clear. That would take another minute or two, and Harry was tiring fast. It took enormous concentration and energy to keep going at such high speeds.
He looped around the Gryffindor goal posts and headed back the other way, seeing for the first time the D.A. members on brooms. He knew who he would aim for. Ron was the only one he trusted to handle the impact of having Harry hurtle himself at him. He would try and slow down before making contact, but it might not be possible . . .
Damn.
He sped past the first student who was too small to be Ron, and the second who had dark hair. Dean?
Behind him, the Bludger was closing in. Harry sped up, saw that Ron was ahead on the left and swerved right. The Bludger followed him and curved around as Harry followed the wall of the stadium. The stadium was emptying of students. Good.
Suddenly, Harry was back up beside Ron. He shot straight up and the Bludger slowed momentarily to change trajectories. Harry took advantage and swung around before diving straight down. The Bludger slowed again to follow. Harry did a corkscrew and swung out of it below Ron. Shooting straight up one more time, he pulled back on his broom to slow it, feeling the vibrations as the magical energy fought with his momentum. Below him, the Bludger slowed and followed.
Harry was just above Ron when he let go of his broom. He was already falling when Ron jumped up to catch him and there was a tremendous collision. Somehow, Ron managed to get hold of Harry, yelling"Dumbledore's Office!"
They were falling, but then came a sharp tug from behind Harry's navel and the usual disorienting roll of darkness and light spun over them. The pitch was gone; the Bludger left behind. Harry slumped with relief, though he hated Portkeys—hated the places they took him, and the way Tom always seemed to be in control. But almost anything was preferable to being beaten to death by crazed Bludgers.
Unless . . .
"No," Harry whispered, as the light touch of something dark whispered by his mind.
"Wha—?"
Ron never got to finish his question. With a hard jerk that snapped Harry's neck, the forward propulsion stopped—just as if he'd been grasped from behind—just like last time. Ron bellowed in pain. The magic of the Portkey pressed them forward, while Tom's magic held them back.
A familiar spearhead of agony bloomed in his skull. Harry curled in, clutching his head, but he was already erecting the gray screen of Occlumency in his mind.
"Procclumens," Harry mouthed carefully, using the knowledge of what he'd learned over the summer. As long as his focus and will were strong, he didn't have to actually say the words aloud. On the screen came vibrant, recent memories: of Ginny's kisses, of Ron's muttered Fraterdum Singletus and its meaning of "brothers to the final breath," of the support from the whole school as Harry had been walked from the Infirmary to his dorm, Dumbledore leading him with a smile.
From somewhere nearby and yet far away, Tom shrieked in pain, and Harry bit through his bottom lip to keep from doing the same as the pain in his head doubled and the crushing force grew stronger. It squeezed the air out of his lungs and he felt Ron convulse behind him. But with one final, spastic tug, Tom's magic released them and Harry found himself tumbling on the hard, wooden floor of Dumbledore's office.
Ron groaned behind him.
Harry lay still, breathing deeply, winded from the flying and the Portkey. He tasted blood on his bottom lip. The office was quiet, with only the soft, familiar whirring of Dumbledore's strange magical objects on his desk as background.
Ron sat up and leaned over Harry. "All right, mate?" His face was pale and there was an ugly bruise on his cheek.
Harry nodded and closed his eyes.
"Damn," Ron muttered tensely, climbing to his feet. "She's not here," he said thickly.
Harry's eyes flew open and he sat up, suddenly remembering Cho. "She has to be here! Cho?" Harry was on his feet now, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Maybe she's already on her way downstairs."
"Maybe."
But before either of them could move for the door, a sudden thump from behind startled them. Harry didn't take the time to turn around; he Sensed the spell coming his way and dove left. Ron whipped around, wand out, but was caught directly in the chest by a Cruciatus Curse and dropped to the floor, writhing in agony.
"NO!" Harry yelled, but had no time to get to his feet. Instead he dove left to avoid the curse slung at him, then aimed and fired a Bludgeoning Curse in return at—
"Dean?"
The taller boy easily blocked the spell and smirked at him. "Who did you expect? A Slytherin?"
Harry barely got up a Shield in time to deflect the next volley of curses, then flung an Impediment Jinx at his friend and dove behind Dumbledore's desk. Dean blocked the jinx, took Ron's wand easily and stepped toward the desk.
"Harry? It's just you and me now. Best man wins."
"I don't want to hurt you, Dean!" he called out. "Something . . . someone is controlling you! It has to be the Imperius! Try to throw it off!"
"Maybe I don't want to." While Harry watched in horror, Dean reached down and grabbed the desk with both hands, lifting it as easily as if it were made of Styrofoam. With a roar, the dark-skinned boy threw it behind him, where it slammed into the wall with a solid thud and rolled over.
Harry's wand was trained on Dean, but his mind was whirling. Now he noticed the dried specks of blood around Dean's horribly lopsided grin, the long streams of bloodstains down his shirt and the shaking of his wand hand.
Rage and something else made Harry's own hand quake as he knelt, at a serious disadvantage, only one meter away from Dean's wand. "You're under the Imperius, Dean. You don't want to do this."
"Oh, don't I?" And Harry was suddenly unsure. "It was always you, Harry, winning everything, taking all the glory for yourself, leaving nothing for the rest of us. I can't fly as well as you. I can't fight as well as you, and I couldn't even keep Ginny away from you!! You've taken everything I ever wanted! You've even taken my best friend away from me!!"
"I didn't make Seamus leave. And I didn't take Ginny from you. She—"
"Shut it!! Shut it you—you—" he shook his head and Harry saw tears come into his eyes—his frantic, wild eyes. "'The One' they call you. What will they call me, then? 'The One who Killed The One?'" He laughed a short, barking laugh. "Think I'll get a title, too?"
"Whose blood did you drink?"
"Wouldn't you like to know? But I don't think I'll tell you. It could be Cho's. It could be Hermione's. It could even be . . . Ginny's."
Harry felt hot fury rise, but he suddenly knew the true answer to the question. Dean had hurled that desk so easily . . .
"Envy," he said, suddenly understanding.
"Very impressive, Potter." The name sounded strange coming so spitefully from Dean's mouth. "Got it in one. Care to guess who—"
But he never got the rest of the words out.
There was another, smaller thud and a "Harry?"
It was Ginny.
Dean spun with his wand raised, catching her off-guard. She aimed, hesitated, looked at Harry and then back at Dean.
"Harry?"
Harry shook his head. Dean hadn't fired a spell, just stood there, shaking from head to toe, eyes widening with horror. "I almost . . ." he whispered. "Ginny? I—I—"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Harry's curse snapped Dean's legs together and he tipped over backwards, stiff as a board. Ginny ran over to Harry and threw her arms around him, shivering.
"What happened to Dean?"
"Imperius Curse. Must have been. They made him drink Re'em blood and come after me." It was the only explanation for Dean's sudden strength—Re'em blood. "I don't think he would have said those things otherwise. Ron?" he called over to his friend who was just now sitting up.
"'m fine. Y'okay?"
"Yeah. Dean's a bit stiff at the moment."
"Good. Cho?"
Harry, with Ginny looking up at him, hated to answer. "She's not here. Yet."
Ginny held him tighter. "So . . . this was . . . Envy?"
"Yeah. The Portkey was Pride."
Ron cursed the Slytherins roundly and rather creatively, leading up to a very important question.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "What about the Bludgers? What sin could possibly have anything to do with Killer Bludgers?"
"You got me, mate," Ron said as he pushed himself to his feet.
Ginny shook her head, then jerked back to stare in Harry's eyes, a giggle starting before she could completely squelch it.
"What?"
She peeled her hand away from her mouth and said, almost apologetically, "Sloth."
Harry groaned.
Ron strode over to Dean and pushed him over with one foot. "So who got hold of him? Kind of hard to imagine Bulstrode pulling off something like this."
Just then, Hermione popped into the room, wand outstretched. "Harry! Ron!" She relaxed her pose. "You're all right? Oh, good. What happened to Dean?"
"Exactly what should have happened to the back-stabbing prat," Ron muttered as he headed over to Hermione, arms open for a hug.
But Hermione stopped him with one hand on his chest. "I can't believe you said that. What happened?"
Ron opened his mouth, but no words came out, because just then, Cho appeared in the center of the room, lying on the floor, arms bound to her sides, blood on her face, clothes torn, screaming with a raw, scratched voice, "Dumbledore's office! Dumbledore's office!!"
After a second of shocked stillness, Harry ran to her and knelt. She didn't see him, just screamed on and on. He put a hand on each side of her face to still her and called her name over and over until she finally saw him. At once, her eyes glazed over and she went limp in a long, slow faint. A Galleon fell out of her hand and hit the floor with a soft plink.
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A/N: For anyone not familiar with the wonderful creatures known as the Re'ems, JKR includes them in her book, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, here is a link to check it out on the web (at the fabulous HP Lexicon):
A/N: Thanks to Melindaleo, the best cheerleader and motivator in the HP fanworld, and to Chele, the best beta e-vah!!