CHAPTER 11: Quidditch, Cure of the Teenaged Boys' Soul
Harry stuck close to himself for the remaining months. Well into February he staid quiet, refusing to tell his friends what he had seen in the mirror. He felt every eye, could sense every muggle born. He pressed himself into shadows more and more often nowadays. Even Vexation, with his sarcastic wit and sharp tongue couldn't rouse his "Prodigy" from out of his funk.
Even when they found Flamel, Harry wasn't really part of their world. They rushed around, sharing comments over the Philosopher's Stone, sharing ideas over what they would do with it if they had it. He ignored his teachers' attempts to talk to him, he ignored Snape's attempts to bait him, he ignored the pounding headaches he got when he was in Quirll's classes. He ignored everything but that one image in his mind's eye.
Often even his regular eye played the imagaes back for him. He began to dream about it, about how it would feel. He began to look at everything in a new light. The one thing that kept him from falling pray to the image was Quidditch.
With Snape refereeing the match and Gryffindor only tailing Slytharin by a few points in the house cup, Harry put all his frustrations in his game. He had Fred and George bet bludgers at him, teaching him how to better dodge the best beaters in the school, easily so that the rest would seem like cake in comparison. He swirled and dived, racing the winds during practice, practicing moves, faints and other tricks. He attacked the snitch with a sort of feral violence that scarred his team a bit but thrilled Wood to no end.
When the game finally rolled around, Wood felt no need to give his team a speech, he just looked at them and said "Let's show Snape he can't frighten us." The all cheered and advanced on the field with a battle like appearance.
"Harry's rubbing off on them." Draco whispered to Dante in the stands.
Dante nodded and looked sadly down at his friend.
"He's so different." He whispered. "There's nothing we can do."
"We can get him to talk." Ron volunteered as the whistle blew and the teams launched into the sky, Harry the fastest and highest of all, streaking around the pitch before the first pass.
"Well have a training session." Dante planned, watching his friend as he rolled away from a bludger.
"He'll fight one of use and the other will question." Draco added, his eyes never leaving the boy.
"He'll crack." Hermione muttered a bit sadly.
"He's tougher than that." Ron assured her.
"Yeah, he'll talk but he won't crack." Dante assured her with a small hug.
"DANTE!" Darco cried. Dante's head ripped away from Hermione to where Harry had gone into a dive straight for Snape after he awarded Hufflepuff a penalty for one of the Gryffindors flying to close to his head. He had barely turned around when Harry shot past him, making him summersault backwards. Everyone laughed thinking Harry had done it as a joke but he flew up, fist in the air, screaming "I've got the snitch!"
Everyone was stunned for a moment or two than erupted in enthusiastic cheering. Draco was loudest, Harry could tell because he felt his heart warm when he heard "That's my boy!" Shouted across the field.
He landed softly, everything driven from his mind, having found peace with the images while focusing all his thoughts into finding the snitch. He had the sky had molded once more into a single entity, the vastness clearing his mind, opening his heart, and when he heard Draco, his was sure he'd only see his family if he were to step in front of the mirror.
Gryffindors were flooding around him. Smiling, thumping him on the back and cheering, they laughed at how he'd handled Snape congratulators mobbed Harry. But through it all he still managed to here, "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror." He spun around to see Dumbeldore fading back into the crowd. "Old goat." Harry smiled before he was swept away within the sea of Gryffindor supports for what was sure to be a long party.