Uneasy murmurs echoed from the nearby stands, as each remaining member of the Quidditch teams save Harry, Cho, and Poole postured with wands and fists raised.
Harry slowly moved away from his teammates, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Lovegood, if you've got a problem with me, we can go mix it up somewhere else," he remarked, attempting a kinder version of his father's trademarked lopsided grin. "There are too few magicals in the world already, yeah?" he asked, gesturing to the crowd with his right hand. "Let's settle this with words or just stay out of each other's way, what do you do say?"
Lovegood spat at his feet, digging her wand under his chin. "You're a coward, Potter," she snarled, silver eyes as toxic as mercury. "First you turn on your friends," she pointed at a now reverted Hermione, cringing slightly as Professor Flitwick and several Ravenclaws held her in place during a fairly intense lecture. "Now you're crawling to the sisterhood with pathetic excuses," her lips creased into a mean smile. "We respect gentlemen, not brutes that use force," Lovegood
She took half a dozen paces back as she crouched, wand tip glowing with an unknown spell. "Professor Snape's right about you," she insisted, voice now taunted him with mock sadness, "you're nothing but a nasty attention-seeking boy that has now place at Hogwarts." Her diatribe finished, she aimed a vicious, but untrained kick at Harry's face, breaking his wand before he could petrify her.
Harry yelled and rammed her with his shoulder, seizing her wand from loose fingers. The Ravenclaw team and a dozen other front-row spectators advanced, faces twisted with outrage and an overt desire for blood.
Harry considered the odd-looking pale wand with runes for half a second and shrugged, loosing six wild stunners into the crowd, hoping to avert further conflict. Four crumpled at once, the rest crouched behind magic and one or two physical shields, firing various mid-level spells, from fire, water, and incarcerous, with one or two reductos aimed at his legs.
Harry growled as a near miss blasted a small chunk out of his leg, firing a low-powered bombarda into the ground to deter large numbers from overwhelming him.
The students shrieked and retreated as they were blinded by clumps of dirt, many dropping their wands in their haste to save themselves. Unfortunately, many students had already been injured by the crossfire at this point, screaming as they clutched stumps gushing blood from once healthy limbs, Chang nearly unconscious as two students and a teacher frantically worked to seal the wound from a nasty blasting curse, the nerves in the left leg damaged beyond repair. Cormac McLaggen moaned dramatically in the background as he nursed an broken arm, whining in pain when a student bumped his right shoulder as he ran. Suddenly a low cry of mourning echoed over the grounds, as the Ravenclaw team huddled around the corpse of a silver-eyed teen, eyes staring into nothing as students compressed her chest uselessly, torched by a flame-making charm. Poole had reverted once her transfigured form was damaged.* Once again, thanks to Harry James Potter, habitual troublemaker and proverbial match in a pool of gasoline, a student was dead.
The minister got involved in the subsequent investigation personally, throwing himself into the paperwork, conferences and minutiae with an urgency that intimidated and impressed his advisors on the light and dark sides. As it turned out, Ravenclaw Penelope Clearwater had cast the fatal flame charm, expelled without ceremony despite her partner Percy's vehement protests. Although no further casualties occurred thanks to the rapid response of both teachers and students, thirty had suffered one or more severed limbs, five of which were unable to be regrown. Luna Lovegood was tried and found guilty of second-degree murder and accessory to a riot, and aggravated battery, ultimately sentenced to fifty years in Azkaban. Many in Ravenclaw, as well as Slytherin and Gryffindor held Harry responsible for the entire mess, the dark-haired teen forced to go everywhere with no fewer than a dozen at all times to prevent attacks. Cho Chang was often witnessed striding held high with determination and confidence despite her wood leg, amid frequent sweats, fatigue, and seizures as she struggled to minimize her use of pain potions.
Unfortunately, that was only the tip of Harry's problems. Dolores Umbridge had once again risen to prominence in the wizarding world, appointed by near unanimous consent to the post of Hogwarts Head of Punishment and Security. Some of her less objectionable reforms included doubling the Hogwarts wards and other defenses, something long overdue during Dumbledore's unreasonably complacent tenure as headmaster, Harry thought with a rare smirk. However, other measures, including blood quills for the smallest infraction (I will respect my superiors) (Muggleborns); (I will remain loyal) (Halfbloods) (I will contribute to order) (Purebloods). Most students from all houses now bore scars on their hands, a testament for Umbridge's cruelty towards necessary but annoying children. Constantly guarded by aurors and a small number of dementors, moved from place to place like chess pieces including scheduled bathroom breaks, Hogwarts was beginning to feel like a prison. It all came to a head in early December when McGonagall slipped into Umbridge's office in cat form while the enraged Head of Security crucioed Harry for not showing enough deference during detention.
Fudge arrested Umbridge with atypical speed even faster than last time, his standing with the public now on very thin ice. Rumors abounded that Lucius and a small circle of his subordinates were planning on a run for minister of magic. Harry's already precarious health grew worse as he considered the outcome of that particular development, "muggleborns and non-purebloods will be reduced to servants or killed for sure!" he ranted to his friends more than once.
Harry shouldn't have gone to Hogsmeade in his condition, he thought as he braced himself against the wall of a delipidated house, cornered by a madman. Harry had entered a house with a man he thought was Dr. Daniel Granger, then man greeting him with a strained but cordial expression wanting to hash things out with his daughter's former friend, resulting from concerned letters describing the teen's decline. Harry had been basically unarmed since the fight with Lovegood regardless, reduced to using a second-hand wand a concerned Cedric gave him several days after the investigation, quite battered and chipped from summer stunt flying.
Sirius Black lifted his glamour, standing on the opposite side of the room in a smoking jacket, a woolen sweater, and Bermuda shorts, and a makeshift belt with two other wands, face twisted in an insane grin as he pointed a wand in Harry's direction.
"I want the rat, Harry," Black croaked as he grimaced, the wand shaking in emaciated, dirt covered fingers. "I can scent him on you," he insisted, teeth bared in a doglike grin as he panted like an animal, berating the bewildered boy who lived for abandoning him. He did fail to help Black after the thing with Hermione, why didn't he send Dobby or something Harry mentally kicked himself as he avoided any sudden movements that might set off the convict. "You have two weeks to bring him here," Black finished, chin lifted, eyes narrowed with hate. "Or I'll come to Hogwarts myself, dementors be damned," the man transformed into a dog and bolted out a back door, Harry frozen in place, his mind crazed with adrenaline.
*Various Harry Potter stories and the Star Trek episode By Any Other Name describe how damaged to transfigured forms or the transfiguration itself can be fatal.