"And it's Pucey with the quaffle. He loops the incoming Turpin and yes, Pucey, that is a Bludger. Shishkov picks it up and executes a perfect Winterdale Shake, bamboozling Miles Bletchley and yes, good shot by Shishkov there — straight into the right hoop!"
For once, Quidditch was unable to hold Harry's attention. He gazed at Ginny intently, just as he'd been doing for the past week. He wanted, no, needed to be reminded of the image in the mirror. He drew every possible parallel, from the line of her jaw to the way her hair seemed like fire in the light.
He'd gone back every night. Yesterday, when Ginny had been tired after Astronomy, he'd dragged Ron off to that little room only they seemed to know about. Ron hadn't seen the same thing they had, but that was to be expected. Ron's desire had been a load of glory, glamour and girls.
His eyes snapped back to his shoulder, where his mother's hand had rested maybe forty hours ago now. It was like an ulcer. Every visit would give pause to the darkness, before once more it consumed him. He could see it in Ginny's eyes every time he said he wanted to return. He was falling. Slowly but surely, he was losing touch with the world around him. But what good was the world when he felt so empty?
"That was a bit extravagant there by Captain Cooper, but it has paid off. She has dodged Bludger, Beater and Chaser and is one on one with Bletchley. Flint will not catch her at that speed - yes, she's scored! 20-10 to Ravenclaw!"
Once again, Harry fell outside time's natural flow. He didn't feel like its master this time. He was its prisoner. Harry watched the world go by, feeling more and more alone as the Earth itself spun too fast, too fast for him to hold on. Ginny was watching him now. He realised suddenly that he couldn't feel her, but this didn't shock him.
The ache was becoming more painful. He needed to see them again! He glanced around at the over-saturated world and grimaced as the pain began to spike. The only thing he could see clearly anymore was their faces in his mind.
"Is that the Snitch? The game hangs in the balance. It seems Flint has a memory after all, because he's keeping well clear!"
"Jordan!"
The Earth spun faster.
"Higgs has the Snitch! It's all over! Slytherin win 220-80!"
Harry felt like a marionette as he drifted out of the stadium. There was a feeling of intense discomfort at the back of his head now, too. He brought his unencumbered hand up to his face and flexed his fingers. Upon putting his hand down, he recognized that he was in the Entrance Hall. Wrenching his left hand free, he sprinted off towards the marble staircase. As he reached a particular, short corridor, out of sight of man and portrait alike, he threw his father's cloak over himself. 'Father...'
He hadn't noticed Ginny's cry, or the others yelling after him. He simply had to get back to that mirror. As he ran closer, the pain began to ease slightly. He slowed down upon reaching the door, and opened it silently. The approach to the mirror was not something to be savoured as he had done before.
He stared hungrily at them. His mother, with her beautiful smile, was standing encircled by his father's arms. James Potter looked genuinely proud of his child, grinning and ruffling his hair even though they stood eye to eye. Then there were the others. An uncle was standing on Dad's left. He looked nearly identical to Dad, but he was taller, and he had a slightly smaller nose - his Uncle Andrew, who'd died as an infant.
Behind them stood his grandparents. Alexander Potter and Josephine Hall, a half-blood. His grandfather looked much like him, with Harry's father's hazel eyes and tall, slim build. A very beautiful woman, Josephine appeared youthful even in her fifties, with long, flowing brown hair and a gentle smile. She was holding the hand of her elder brother. William Hall had his sister's pale blue eyes, as did the infant his wife Claire was holding. All five had been killed in the attack of March '78. Many of those who weren't in the Ministry or Order of the Phoenix forces had gathered to discuss how they might contribute; everyone was called upon, even muggles, to take up arms. No one knew how Voldemort's forces had learned of the meeting. It was a massacre.
As emotion welled up inside him, he felt the pain begin to grow again. But this time, it was the discomfort in the back of his head that was bothering him. Something wasn't right.
He looked into Ginny's gorgeous brown eyes. They were older in the mirror, perhaps thirty years old. A son and daughter were running around them, laughing. The boy was like a little version of James, while the girl was a little Ginny. And in his arms he held a little boy who looked just like him. As he looked at the boy, he caught a look of his own reflection and froze. The look in his eyes was...
He backed away, millimetre by millimetre, afraid of what he still could see. His eyes were not their usual green, but a deep blood red. His face hadn't shown just eagerness, but a hunger that seemed inhuman. Harry fell backwards.
"I see that you finally understand, Harry."
He spun round, leaping to his feet. It was Professor Dumbledore! The discomfort at the back of his head faded.
"Sir, I'm so sorry!" Harry exclaimed.
The Headmaster's expression was grave. "I had hoped that it would not come this far," he said quietly. "Still, I am glad that you were able to turn away at the end, Harry. You have shown a strength of will and character that not many possess."
At the word 'possess', Harry felt quite nauseated. "What was the mirror doing to me, sir?"
The Headmaster took a deep breath. "Harry, let me speak to you a little of the Mirror of Erised. Clearly you already understand what it does."
Harry nodded shakily, "It shows us our deepest desire."
"Quite," Professor Dumbledore agreed. "It gives us neither knowledge, nor truth."
"But that's not quite right, is it, sir?"
Harry started. That was Ginny's voice. She sounded distressed. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. The memories were clearing up now, and he could remember all four of his friends asking him to not return.
"Ah, Miss Weasley," said Professor Dumbledore. "I wonder what it is that makes you say that?"
"It does give us truth, because it shows us what we truly desire. It just doesn't show us any kind of reality. Just because we see something in the mirror doesn't mean that it'll happen," she said.
Dumbledore smiled. "That is a valid point. What of knowledge, then?"
Ginny took a steadying breath. "If we know what our deepest desires are, and come to understand why we desire them, then it's harder for people to use them against us, isn't it?"
"Perhaps," the Headmaster replied. "Perhaps you are right, Miss Weasley. However, you would be wise to remember that there are always multiple possibilities. As Mr. Potter has just demonstrated, simply knowing what you desire most is not usually enough, and can be detrimental."
Harry closed his eyes tight, dropping his head in shame.
"Harry, do not be ashamed," Dumbledore said gently. "Many men have wasted away before this mirror, lost their minds and even their very souls. Its power is at once wonderful and terrible. Few have ever withstood it, and next to none have done so without prior understanding of it. It is an old relic of this world. We do not know who or what created it, but no-one has yet wielded the power to destroy it."
Opening his eyes, he met Ginny's, and felt a sudden flare of emotion in her corner of his mind. He felt her fear and anguish like a physical pain, but he relished it. Harry ran to encircle her in his arms. At first she stiffened, but as she relaxed his pain eased, and a contented smile broke out on his face. Dumbledore said nothing as they embraced, and Harry was grateful.
"I'm so sorry, Ginny," Harry whispered. "I don't know why–"
'It's alright, Harry,' she replied. 'You're okay now. Just... don't let go of our bond again. I missed it more than I could have imagined.'
They broke apart slowly. Harry looked back at the mirror, to find that he no longer felt anything weird. Its hold over him was broken.
"Tomorrow, it will be moved to a new home, and I ask you not to go looking for it again," Dumbledore said to the both of them. An immense feeling of relief washed over Harry. "It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live." Harry smiled nervously, and squeezed Ginny's hand. "If ever you do run across it, you will now be prepared."
"Thank you, sir," they replied. Harry folded his cloak back into the front pocket of his rucksack. When he looked up again, Dumbledore was gone.
"Did you...?" Harry asked.
Ginny looked equally perplexed. "He's Dumbledore. I guess he probably has his own cloak, right?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered. He took one last look at the mirror. 'The mirror giveth, and the mirror taketh away. Not today, though.'
"Aw, allow it!" Dean cried.
"Eh?" Neville asked. Looking up to see what the fuss was about, Harry saw that Ron had overcome his fear of the arachno-GameBoy rather quickly.
"Ron, what did you do to it?" Dean asked desperately.
"Dunno," he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen.
"Come on, I'm gonna go crazy without my music!" Dean exclaimed, though a chuckle did escape him.
"Ask Harry, he probably knows more about it," Ron said in a flat voice.
Harry put his hands up in the air, and Dean laughed before smacking himself in the head.
"That's so unfair..." Dean muttered.
They were sitting in on this Saturday afternoon mainly because of the heavy rain outside, but also as part of the plan to collect Ron's birthday presents without his knowledge.
"Here, Dean, I'll ask Ginny for you," Harry said. "Maybe she has something to do with that thing working."
"Really?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Harry replied. "I don't know why she would let it work, though. She's really pissed that Ron seems to find it more interesting than his friends."
"Meh," Ron muttered.
"That's kind of weird, isn't it?" Seamus asked.
"Why's that?" Harry asked, resting his feet on his footboard, and getting back to the copy of The Lord of the Rings Hermione had gotten him for Christmas. He remembered laughing with her about how the illustration of Gandalf on the front cover looked remarkably like a younger Dumbledore. He also remembered how he hadn't gotten his hands on it until the end of January because Ginny had insisted on reading it first. 'Those two are such ridiculously fast readers...'
"Well, she's a pure-blood, i'n't she?" Seamus said casually. "You'd expect a muggle-born to do something like that, wouldn't you?"
Harry felt Ginny's presence behind him, and wondered why he hadn't noticed before. "Well, sure, I'd expect Hermione to work out how to make electronics work around magic, but Ginny's the most brilliant witch I know. Still, I expect Hermione'll be the one to write a paper on it."
"A paper...?" Neville wondered aloud.
While Dean went to explain, Harry heard the curtain to his left shift, and looked up from his book just in time to see Ginny crawling up onto his bed.
"Blimey, what're you doin' in 'ere?" Seamus asked incredulously.
"You don't expect us all to leave, do you?" Neville asked, turning slightly pink.
"Tempting..." Ginny drawled, probably enjoying everyone's discomfort, "but no, it's alright."
"You're not allowed in 'ere," Seamus chuckled.
"So?" Ginny asked almost lazily as she got comfortable next to Harry. "Are you going to report me to McGonagall?"
"Nah, m'alright," he grinned.
"Hang on..." Ron said, looking up. "Ginny! What are you doing in here?!"
She rolled her eyes. "Harry, protect me from the lanky oaf, would you?"
"I'm serious, I'll tell Mum!" he said. Neville and Seamus had taken cover at this point.
Ginny's hand glowed red. "Tell her what?"
"That you got into Harry's bed," he said bluntly. In Harry's opinion, he should have shut up while Ginny was still joking.
To Harry's surprise, Ginny took a deep breath, and dissipated the energy she'd built up. "Dear brother, please don't make me do something I'll regret later."
"Looks like you found your regret already," Harry commented quietly.
"Well, I did make a speech about not crossing lines, didn't I?" she replied. She grinned and continued conspiratorially, "Fred and George have a couple of things planned for him already. He's my brother, after all –I don't want him catatonic."
"Ginny, listen," Harry started. "I don't want to tell the others about the mirror."
Ginny frowned. "When you said to give it time I thought you were getting past it."
Harry sighed. How could he get past it? It was all that he could think about. Even the continuing whispers (and the Slytherins' taunts) about how he was technically dating his own sister couldn't penetrate the fog of gloom over what he'd almost done, had done to his friends.
"I was... am, but I don't want to worry them. We've already got Fluffy, Snape and the Stone in the school, haven't we? With an evil mirror here, too, it might be a bit much."
"What mirror?" Neville asked quietly.
"Aw, crap," Harry muttered.
Ginny glanced at him before turning to Neville. "Neville, on Valentine's Day, me and Harry slipped out in the evening to meet the twins."
"And you didn't invite us along?" Neville asked, smirking.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we found the place we thought we were meeting them, but they weren't there. Turns out we went to the wrong floor. But in that room there was this huge, beautiful golden mirror. And inscribed over the top of that mirror were the words–"
"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi," Harry said.
Ginny gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "It wasn't your fault, Harry. Please, stop blaming yourself." She turned back to Neville, who looked still more solemn now. "Well, we looked in the mirror–"
"Oh, no," Neville breathed. They looked up at him, ignoring the pillow-fight Dean and Seamus had started. "I've heard of that thing. The legend of the Mirror of Erised isn't a commonly known one, but my family is nearly as old as yours, Harry. These stories get passed down. The Mirror was a terrible thing. Nobody remembers where it came from, but we remember what it does... what it did... to its victims."
Neville shivered. "It isn't just a mirror. It's a sentient and sapient being. It's a little like a dementor, because it manipulates your emotions to make you vulnerable, then... then it drains your soul."
Harry and Ginny both stared at him, horrified, realising how close they'd come.
"It killed loads of people before the Wizards' Council decided to destroy it. They failed, and everyone who attacked it died. So they decided that the empath, Dionisia Black, should try to move the mirror to a secure location. She never told anyone where she hid it, and the mirror was never heard of again."
"Empath?" Harry asked.
"In the time Neville's talking about, which is sort of 8th century to the 18th, wizards and witches were classified into Orders under the Council. There was an Order for each element, an Order of empaths, scholars... Basically, there was an Order for anything a sorcerer could be or do," Ginny explained. "Empaths studied emotions and telepathy. Dionisia Black is fairly well known, she was head of her Order for ages."
Neville nodded.
"So your families taught you guys all this stuff?" Harry asked.
Ginny grinned. "We don't spend our pre-school years just romping around the countryside, you know."
"Wow," was all Harry could say. The image of his father came to mind, and he felt a pang of loss at what he'd missed out on. Mrs Weasley was doing her best, he knew, but it would never be what it could have been.
"Harry," Neville prodded. He looked to his friend. "What do you say someday we go find your family's castle and dig up your family history?"
He choked up, caught completely off guard. "I... I think I'd like that, Neville." They exchanged smiles and gripped each other's hands.
"Thank the gods that thing didn't take you, Harry," Neville said earnestly, sitting back down in his own bed.
"There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Ginny asked. Harry didn't reply. He just pulled her to him tightly, drawing comfort from her presence. As he pulled back, she pressed herself back into him, kissing him passionately. They didn't notice the pillow-fight come to an abrupt and decisive end.
A distracted Dean took a heavy blow to the head and fell back stunned onto Ron, who yelled and cursed. "Bloody hell! I had it, damn you! Level 15... Get off!"
Harry was up early for the first time in a long time. Pulling his invisibility cloak from his bag and his broom from under his bed, he crept to the window, jumping out into the light rain.
Mounting his broom in freefall, he kicked it into a sharp, but slow incline, and drifted up to his window while wrapping the cloak around himself. Closing the window silently, he floated around the tower to the window between Ginny and Hermione. As expected, both were already waiting. They opened the window at the sight of his broom handle, and he flew in, careful to stay a clear metre off the ground.
"Well, that's a rather strange thing to see floating at face level," Ginny mused.
"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed.
Harry pulled the cloak off himself. "Right," he muttered. "What's the plan?"
"There isn't one," Ginny yawned.
"Ginny'll be going with you," Hermione confirmed.
Harry smirked. "Sure you trust us?"
"About as far as I could throw you," said Hermione nonchalantly. "But he's your best friend and brother. I'd say you had a vested interest."
"Oh, you're all wet," Ginny crooned. She reached out a hand, and passed it over him. He felt quite warm, and suddenly quite dry as well.
Meanwhile, Hermione was casting some spell on his cloak. "There, now it should repel water."
"Hermione, that can't be a first year spell," Harry commented.
"You're right," she agreed, "it isn't. It's not a second year spell either, because I bought most of those books over Christmas and it isn't in there. I found it in a utility Charms spellbook from the library. Now pass me your glasses."
"Wait a second. That cloak already has the power of invisibility. Are you saying you're giving it even more powers?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Impervius. Here you are, Harry. No, I'm not. These charms are temporary enhancements, nothing more. Even invisibility cloaks lose their effectiveness over time. Yours seems to be of especially fine quality, that's all."
Harry had given up trying to work out how Hermione had managed to learn so much about magic in so little time.
"Come on, Harry," said Ginny as she clambered up behind him. Hermione helped wrap the cloak around them.
"See you, 'Mione," Harry waved invisibly. Her grin wasn't concealed quite so well.
Ginny yawned quietly as they accelerated, wrapping her arms tight around Harry's chest. She rested her cheek against his back, and he felt a strong tingling sensation there. Shivering for no reason associated with the cold, he pushed the broom on harder through the rain.
Still unable to see the Owlery, he performed a loose barrel roll just to have something to focus on. He relished the feeling of the half-asleep Ginny tightening her hold on him. After thirty seconds, and while still upside-down, he caught a glimpse of the outline of the building. He stretched out along the broom handle, and pushed back on the footrests, accelerating the Nimbus to cruising speed. The darkness soon retreated from the stonework, leaving the Owlery as an island of grey in the void. Harry relaxed into a sitting position as they neared it, taking his left foot off the footrest so that they slowed and drifted to the left, around the building to the nearest window. A satisfied smile pulled at his lips as they glided in without a hitch.
"We need to look for Errol," Ginny said tiredly, "and maybe Hedwig and Hermes, too. We asked them all to keep their packages here."
Harry smiled. "Not get much sleep?"
"Not nearly enough," she moaned. "Hermione's a slave driver." Harry chuckled, and received a poke in the shoulder for his troubles. "I'm serious. I swear she woke me at least a half hour early."
"Well, I'm sure you're plotting something," Harry replied. "Hedwig! Here, girl."
The snowy owl fluttered down to him, flapping her wings to keep level. In her talons was a purple package with green ribbon, and a little envelope stuck to the side. Harry thanked her and took the package. She then flew back, and returned with another, blue parcel. This continued, with Harry attaching the packages to the underside of the Nimbus by looping the ribbons over the broom handle.
"Thanks, girl," Harry said gratefully once Hedwig was finished. "Get some rest now."
Hedwig gave him an affectionate nip on the finger before lifting off the end of the Nimbus, passing a wing over Ginny's shoulder before flying back up to her perch.
Harry floated up to the next landing, and flew slowly out of the window, making sure that he didn't get any of the parcels caught in the masonry. Once free, he accelerated with abandon, racing the advancing sunlight back to Gryffindor Tower.
"Oi, Harry! Neville!" Ron called. Something hit the curtain of his four-poster, but heavy as the curtain was, nothing came through. "Guess what day it is!"
"I don't know... Sunday?" Neville asked. Harry grinned in the darkness.
"Aw, shut it, Weasley," Seamus groaned.
"It's my birthday!" Ron cried. Harry heard his feet hit the ground.
"And it's my sister's birthday, too, but she's not waking me up," Dean muttered. Harry heard the pillow hit Ron, but Ron didn't react. "Mind you, she probably would've done if I was home..."
"What time is it?" Seamus asked.
"Eight past six," Harry replied.
"Blast you, Weasley, it's Sunday!" Seamus cried.
"Meh," Neville muttered, "we're up now, anyway. Come on, Ron. Just be aware that if you try and wake the girls, you'll be facing six wands and your sister."
Harry snorted. 'Like Ron'd get that far.'
"Wonder where my presents are...?" Ron mused, slipping into a pair of trainers.
"Hermione's were at the foot of her bed," Harry offered.
"Yeah," Seamus agreed, "same with me, Parvati and Fay."
"Anyone else find it a bit annoying that the girls are growing so bloody fast?" Dean interjected.
"I'll be honest," Harry answered, "Ginny was the only one shorter than me at the start of the year, and she's a year younger."
"It does feel pretty darn odd," Seamus added. "I mean, I was never the tallest in me class, but Fay and Hermione dwarf me now."
Neville sniggered. "It's just because they start earlier," he said. "Give it a year or so and we'll be back on top."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Nev?" Dean quipped. Seamus roared with laughter.
"Because you're in such a great position to be laughing, Seamus," Harry butted in. "I'm sure Lavender'll be all over you in another week."
"Yeah, well, I'm working on it, Mr. Smooth," Seamus replied.
"Of course," Neville sniggered.
"Oi, Nev, Harry," Ron called. "You coming?"
"Ron, where do you expect your presents to be that you can go get them at six in the morning?" Neville asked.
"Aw, come on," Ron pleaded.
"Fine," Harry said. "Just give us a minute to change, alright?"
"Fine," Ron replied. He left, presumably to go to the bathroom. They were communal affairs, one to each year, set in the centre of the spiral staircase, its door across from that of the dorm room.
"I can smell the surprise party," Dean commented casually.
"Yup," Harry admitted. "Ginny's idea. Apparently, Fred and George have their own plans, though."
"To be expected, ain't it?" Seamus asked.
They grinned. Harry pulled on a black t-shirt and jeans. He was still pleasantly surprised at how comfortable snug-fitting clothes were.
He noticed that Neville only put on his school robes. He remembered fondly the way the linings of his robes had coloured themselves in front of him after the Sorting. An idea for a prank suddenly occurred to him, and he found himself a little more eager to get downstairs.
Slipping on a pair of Reeboks, Harry pulled his wand from under his pillow. He stowed it in the special, fitted pouch he'd made on the right leg of his jeans with the spare material he'd found in the pocket. This way, the handle showed, but someone would have to get in a very compromising position with him in order to pull it out. It went without saying that he was rather proud of it.
Once Ron was back from the bathroom, they finished up and followed him down the stairs. Harry and Neville purposely kept to a sedate pace, and before they were halfway down Ron was almost visibly vibrating. Just as they'd practiced, Harry sent Ginny a telepathic message by focusing on a mental image of her. They couldn't send words over distance yet, but they could send their emotions with incredible acuity. As the feeling of happiness and fulfilment settled deep within him, he knew that she had received his message.
"Surprise!"
"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed. Fred, George, Ginny and Hermione were waiting at the foot of the stairs, laden with gifts. "Um, thanks guys."
Hermione beamed. "We have cake–"
"And butterbeer," George added.
"Our treat," said Fred. Harry made a mental note to steer clear of it. He met Ginny's eyes; she winked, and he blessed his judgement.
"I guess we aren't to ask where you got it?" Neville asked.
"You shouldn't be so suspicious, my man," George scolded.
"Yeah, we've had plenty of Hogsmeade visits this year. Isn't that right, George?" Fred said cheerfully.
"Dead right, dear brother. I seem to recall you spent most of your time tasting the delights," George jibed.
"Ah, George possesses such refreshing wit, does he not?" Fred ground out.
"Almost as refreshing as..." Fred's glare cut George off mid-trail.
"Not that we don't enjoy this," Ginny drawled, "but I think Ron would appreciate his presents right about now."
Harry had to bite his lip to stop himself laughing. It had been difficult to distinguish, but while the twins had been arguing, Ginny had managed to switch the Butterbeers.
Ron tore into the parcels with wild abandon. Wrapping paper flew everywhere. The Gryffindor common room had to be about fifteen metres or so across, but no part of it was spared. He'd gotten Mega Man for the GameBoy from Harry, and a league-standard Quaffle from Neville. The official Quaffles had little bumps all over them to help people grip them and a series of charms to prevent people cheating, headlined by a general-purpose anti-enchantment ward which redirected most charms into an Impervius Charm. This, of course, couldn't affect play since Quaffles had the charm applied already to make them easier to handle in the rain.
"Here, George, have you even had a go on that thing yet?" Fred asked, grinning and indicating the GameBoy.
"Somehow, I doubt you'll be getting your hands on it anytime soon," Harry commented.
"I haven't even finished Mario on hard yet!" Ron moaned.
"And that is why the Ministry didn't want you to know about video games," Hermione said drily.
Ginny's present was the latest copy of The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad muggle, although Ron admitted he had slightly less time and patience for the comic, what with all the cool, real muggle stuff he now had. Hermione had bought him 25 Moments that Changed Quidditch, and for the first time in a while, Ron seemed enthusiastic about a book. His parents, on the other hand, had gone one step further, and bought him the last three issues of a magazine called Game Informer.
"Hey, that's the guy from the game you got me," Ron said to Harry, pointing at the front cover.
"Oh yeah," Ginny blurted out. "Do you think you two'd be able to come over during Easter?"
"I'm not sure," said Hermione. "I'm staying at Hogwarts for Easter..."
"Me too," Neville added. "We'll ask, though."
"Anyway, Ron hasn't opened..."
"Our presents yet," George finished.
"Well, present, really," Fred qualified.
"But who's counting?" said George.
'They are smooth. Gotta give them that.'
Ron tore into the last parcel to reveal an innocent-looking pack of chocolate frogs. After a quick thanks to the twins, he opened the first box and cut short the simulacrum's animation. When nothing happened to him, everyone turned to look at the twins.
"What, we can't just give our little brother a normal birthday present?" George asked in a vaguely offended tone.
They all shrugged, assuming something or another had gone wrong. Meanwhile, Fred passed Butterbeers around, and Hermione gave Ron the knife so he could cut the cake. After making a wish (which he refused to share with them), he gave everyone a slice of the chocolate cake Fred and George had 'found lying around in the kitchens'.
However, he started by raising the bottle of Butterbeer. "Don't tell Mum," he said, not taking his eyes off the bottle, then drained it. Fred and George had a silent high-five before downing their own bottles. Ginny smirked in his direction. Harry kept an eye on the twins. Taking a drink from his own bottle, he found the drink to be quite sweet, and gave him a fuzzy feeling inside as it slipped down.
"How much have we got?" asked a smirking Neville.
"About three each," George replied.
"Cooling charms on all," Fred added.
Hermione was giving her bottle a funny look. "Should we really be drinking alcohol?" she asked hesitantly.
"Come on, Hermione," Harry replied, "it tastes great."
"Yeah, come on Hermione," George echoed.
"Look, I'm not drunk, am I?" Fred asked in a shaky voice before collapsing to the floor, laughing. "Here, give me a hand, Hermione, won't you?"
She extended her hand, but then she clamped it over her mouth, staring at Fred's forehead. Harry followed her gaze and almost dropped his bottle laughing.
As if being drawn on with a permanent marker, black writing was appearing on his skin.
George did drop his bottle. "Wait till Angie sees you!" he hooted.
"Not doing so bad yourself, bro," Fred replied, smirking.
"Eh?" George conjured a small mirror, and blinked in disbelief at his reflection. "We've been done."
"Looks like it," Fred agreed.
George grinned. "Can't get anything past this lot."
Neville was squinting into his own bottle, probably trying to glimpse his own reflection.
"Go on," Fred prompted.
"Who was it?" they finished together.
Ginny curtsied, grinning, before taking another swig of her Butterbeer.
"So, what do I say, then?" Fred asked.
"Either get that off your face or I'll hex it off!"
Angelina had skin of a dark shade of brown, but everyone could see the angry flush on her cheeks. She stormed over from the girls' staircase, her wand slipping from her skirt pocket to her hand so fast Harry didn't even see it. Or perhaps the alcohol in the Butterbeer had him slightly addled.
"Hey! Hey, Angie," Fred cried apologetically, "this wasn't my fault, I swear! I don't even know what it says!"
"And you never will!" she glared. "Incen-!"
"Protego!" Fred cast hurriedly. "Hey, George, how do you reverse this?"
"You can't," George grinned. "Lasts five hours, and if you try to do anything to it..."
"Evanesco!" Angelina cried.
"It flashes," George finished. "I love Zonko's."
"That's all you two'll be loving if you keep on this way," Angelina growled. "Obscuro."
A blindfold covered Fred's eyes, and the lewdly flashing 'Sex God' on his forehead.
"You're a git, Fred," said Angelina. Alicia had caught up to her at this point.
"A blind git, now," he remarked. "I wasn't lying. That stuff was meant to happen to this lot."
Hermione got a smug look on her face. "Come on, Hermione, it tastes great!" she mocked.
"Yeah, well, I saw Ginny do the switch, didn't I?" Harry defended. "Look, it's safe — give it a go."
Ron chose that particular moment to pass wind.
"Ugh!"
"Sorry," Ron muttered sheepishly. Then it happened again. They all started to back away. It happened again and again and again, before picking up the tune of Dementors on Fire, the Weird Sisters' latest single.
"Farting frogs!" Fred and George tried to high-five each other, but with the blindfold on Fred missed hopelessly and ended up getting hit in the face.
Laughing uproariously, George conjured a length of white cloth. He removed the blindfold Angelina had produced, and tied the cloth around Fred's head like a bandana.
Angelina chuckled quietly. "You can keep yours, George."
"Cheers, Angie," he grinned.
He turned a raised eyebrow and a smirk on Alicia, who giggled. "You're spoken for, so no thanks."
George rubbed his forehead gently, grinning. The 'Free Snogging' was perfectly visible, even under his fringe. "This is going to be fun."
Hermione took another look at her Butterbeer, before handing it to Harry. "You can have it if you like it so much."
"Cheers, 'Mione," he grinned.
It was at this point that Oliver came down the stairs with his Cleansweep Six-K. "Glad to see you lot up already. George, what's... never mind. Where's Katie?"
The Quidditch players among them groaned and stood up to retrieve their brooms. "I'll get it for you, Harry," Ginny said brightly. Fred and George stopped in their tracks as if they'd hit a brick wall, then turned slowly in unison. Ginny, paying them no heed, skipped up the stairs to the first year boys' dorm room.
The twins looked at Harry. "What?" he asked blankly, though he was churning inside.
"Is there any reason why–" Fred began.
"Our sister is familiar with your room?" George ended accusingly.
Neville was almost crying with laughter, his fingers squeezed tight over his nose in an attempt to hold back his mirth.
Blood rose to Harry's cheeks, and he found himself praying for Ginny to return. "I... she... we... that's to say... nothing happened... she just, you know..."
"Oh leave the poor boy alone," Angelina smirked.
A whooshing sound began to build. Harry stared disbelievingly at the staircase, waiting for the inevitable.
"Wheeeee!" Ginny rocketed out towards them, spinning as she came.
Harry dodged to the side, and tried to grab her as she passed. She evaded him with ease, turning her roll into a barrel roll which took her right up to the ceiling before kicking the broom into a lower flight path. By kicking the footrests into a lower position than the handle, she had initiated counter-thrust propulsion in the broom as it righted itself.
Having skilfully directed the counter-thrust into forward motion, she combined the normal forward thrust enchantments on the broom with its upward thruster, which effectively slingshotted her out of the portrait hole.
Harry stood for a moment admiring the move, which must have been heavily physically taxing, before charging after her, yelling. "Ginny! Come back with my broom!"
"...And their Seeker, Harry Potter!"
Harry felt some relief from the cool wind. Ginny's good luck kiss had been much longer this time. He didn't think he really needed the luck, though. With Dumbledore in the stands, there was no chance Snape would try anything. Mimicking Ginny's move from earlier, he kicked the footrests clean away from him so that he was more standing on the broom than riding it.
After a half-second of aerial drift, he stretched himself taught along the broom handle, wrestling it straight into a horizontal position. It paid off with a spectacular burst of acceleration, but Harry knew he would have to start doing more crunches if he planned on doing it very often. The strain on his core had been quite painful. Still, the move seemed to be a crowd-pleaser.
Finding Ginny's eye, he winked, then pulled up, slowly barrel-rolling in a tight circle while accelerating towards the congregation of players in the middle of the pitch. He looped around from under them, shedding speed and rotating until he came to rest opposite the Hufflepuff Seeker, a pretty seventh-year girl called Crystal Ayre.
"Nice moves, Potter," she smirked. "This broom ought to even the playing field, so let's see how good you really are, eh?" She was riding a Cleansweep Seven-R, he realised. When he looked up, she winked, and he felt himself blushing.
"Yeah, we will see," he agreed, trying to act confident.
"Why don't we make this more interesting," she drawled, stretching out luxuriously on the broom. "Two galleons says I'll get to the Snitch first."
'Why the hell do all girls seem to love making us uncomfortable?!'
"Sure, why not," he replied. His mind cursed his mouth. Two galleons was all he had with him in wizard money.
"Alright, that's enough," Snape sneered. "Mister Potter already has enough strains on his bank account let alone his precious time, Miss Ayre. There's no need to add another to the list."
They both glared at him, but he was paying no attention. Catching each other's eye, they began to snigger.
Snape flicked his wand at the Quaffle, and the game was on. From the start, Crystal seemed set on outdoing him. Wherever he flew, she was higher. Whenever he dived, she would dive further and faster, and on the way back up she'd barrel roll around him. They continued this strange dance even as Snape gave away penalty after penalty to the Hufflepuffs for some offences that Harry was sure were made up. After the first two, the Hufflepuff Chasers started missing some on purpose to try and even things out. Harry admired their sportsmanship, but if he didn't get the Snitch and soon, Gryffindor would be in trouble.
He suddenly felt a sense of great surprise in his mind, and looked towards his friends in the stands. Right in front of Ginny's nose was the Snitch! He shot off towards it, with Crystal right in his slipstream. The racing model of the Cleansweep Seven had slightly better acceleration than the Nimbus even without the aid of his slipstream, and Crystal drew level before they were even half-way there.
She laughed. "Two galleons to me, I guess!" Harry narrowed his eyes at her, flattening himself to the Nimbus entirely and pulling a streamlined version of the slingshot move. He initially fell back a few metres, but the burst of acceleration at high speed gave him a huge edge. By the time they'd reached his friends in the Gryffindor stands, he was a good ten broom-lengths ahead. But the Cleansweep's higher top speed was allowing Crystal to slowly pull that back, and the Snitch hadn't waited for them. Harry grinned down at his classmates as he whipped past them. Drawing himself as tight to his broom as he could, he found that his smaller frame was keeping his drag down. Although Crystal was back in his slipstream, she was only catching him at walking pace. That would be enough. He hoped.
Led by an adventurous Snitch, they ducked down into the river valley that fed the Black Lake. Harry glanced over his shoulder. He couldn't hear her, but he could see the predatory grin on her face. She was close now. Seeing the first bridge looming ahead, Harry chose the high path, through the bridge rather than under it. He hoped that Crystal would stick to the straighter path, and that the loss of his slipstream would hurt her speed. It didn't. He came down right on top of her, and it took some quick manoeuvring to prevent himself kicking her in the head.
"You really ought to try knocking me off, Potter," Crystal called. The wind pulled at her voice even though there was barely a foot separating them.
"Not my style," he replied. He felt the blow coming rather than saw it. Just as she strafed left ready to smash into him, he ducked ever so slightly, and she passed harmlessly over him. The Snitch was still a good ten metres away, and adrenaline was pumping through him. He looked over at Crystal. Her attention was once more devoted to the Snitch. Looking back at it, he was just in time to see it jerk upwards. They followed it up, and the Nimbus's greater power now had the advantage over the Cleansweep's superior aerodynamics and reduced weight, as they were fighting gravity more than air resistance.
The Snitch changed direction again, cutting back over them and towards the stadium. Harry elected not to right himself, and gained the advantage once more, though Crystal was still moving faster. Harry felt seconds tick by, knowing that in reality his watch would not yet have made a sound. Crystal was maybe five inches behind, and still catching.
As soon as she drew level, she extended her arm. It was true that she had much greater reach, but Harry decided to wait and time his lunge. She had lost her speed advantage in her eagerness, and now there was only the painful wait as they hurtled through the air at a hundred odd miles an hour, inching closer and closer to their prize. It was almost within reach for the Hufflepuff. She couldn't hold back her grin.
She shouldn't have been so sure of herself.
Harry leapt off his broom, releasing all the tension in his body in one, fluid action that sent him arcing over his rival and crashing down over the Snitch.
He grinned as he felt it trapped in his hand. It was over. But it wasn't. At least, not if you counted the fifty metre fall. He grimaced as he lost more and more forward momentum in favour of downward acceleration. Suddenly, g-forces wrenched at him as he felt the momentum shifts reverse.'What in the name of-'
"Come on, Potter. Let's find your broom." He grinned up at Crystal, and clambered on behind her.
"Thanks for the ride," he said.
"Yeah, yeah," she replied. "Now let's get you back on that Nimbus before my boyfriend sees."
He sniggered. "You're a good flier, you know?"
"Yeah, I do know," she replied. "I'm trying out for the Holyhead Harpies once I leave."
"That's pretty cool. Oh, there it is."
Crystal nodded and slowed down, taking her feet off the footrests and letting the broom freefall for a bit. Harry jumped off, grabbing a hold of the Nimbus and swinging up onto it. The Nimbus hummed to him as they zoomed off towards the stands, and he held the Snitch aloft as they returned to indicate his victory. A sudden roar from the stadium told him that it had been noticed.
"You've got a talent for that showboating stuff," Crystal told him. "Charlie took a different approach. He was more direct. But even though you fly with style, it doesn't seem to slow you down at all."
Her appraising look was bringing the colour back to his cheeks. "Yeah, well... I try," he replied.
"It's certainly been an honour, Potter–" she said as they returned to the pitch over the Ravenclaw stands.
"Call me Harry," he interjected. She grinned. He looked over at the scoreboard, which showed the end result as 160-110 to Gryffindor.
"Well played, Harry," she said jokingly. "Looks like you've got quite the party waiting for you down there."
Looking down, he saw that there had been a pitch invasion, and not just by Gryffindors, either. Snape seemed to have retreated in disgust at their happiness.
Harry descended into the throng. After a congratulatory kiss from Ginny, he found that six people were trying to talk to him at once.
"That catch was amazing, Harry!" Neville cried. At the same time, Hermione was scolding him for taking such a risk; Ron was going on about how Malfoy had turned up in the Gryffindor stands with Crabbe and Goyle to give them a ribbing and left with a black eye. At this, he turned and looked properly at his friends, noting that Neville had a bruised cheek and a fat lip, while Ron had a cut above his eye and a heavy nosebleed.
"Are you alright?" he asked, a little shocked that he hadn't noticed before.
"Yeah," Neville answered. "As soon as we started to really get hurt, Ginny just waved her hand and they were all under the Full Body-Bind. It was brilliant!"
"Actually, I only did Malfoy," Ginny corrected him. "Turn around."
Dean and Seamus waved cheekily, and they thanked them gladly.
He turned and looked back towards Crystal. She was walking towards the Hufflepuff dugout with a brunette and a large guy who was probably her boyfriend. Crystal caught his eye and winked.
Harry caught something instinctively by his head. Turning, he found a slightly crumpled paper airplane in his hand. Scrawled on it was the message:
I'll give you your winnings at lunch. Good game, Harry.
He chuckled.
"What is it?" Ginny frowned, before grabbing the thing out of his hand.
"A bet," he replied. "I won a bet."
Harry breathed deeply of the chill night air as he walked back to the broom shed after dinner. There had actually been some damage done to his Nimbus during the last game, and Fred had advised him that there were a few maintenance kits in there. He held his broom up in front of him as he walked, once again appraising the damage. It amounted to a footrest bent slightly backwards, a couple of bent twigs and a faint mark down the side of the handle where his foot had apparently scraped the varnish off.
Harry's head spun to lock on a movement in the distance before he'd even realised he'd seen something. Squinting through the darkness, Harry saw a shadow moving by the Great Hall. Harry couldn't help his curiosity. He pulled his cloak out of his bag and hopped onto the Nimbus, floating towards the figure. It resolved as a tall person in a dark, heavy cloak, but there was no mistaking that prowling walk. Snape was heading for the Forbidden Forest. He flew slightly higher, wanting to avoid being heard.
Professor Snape picked up his already rapid pace, and was clearly running now. Even at his distance, Harry could hear the ground squelching slightly under the man's boots.
Harry was forced to fly higher as they reached the forest, and he could no longer see where he was headed. He needn't have bothered. He could hear the hissing of voices within seconds. He drifted lower and lower, eventually perching on a lower branch of a large beech tree. He squeezed his legs tight around both broom and branch, while keeping a death-grip on the branch with his hands. He was screwed if his broom fell.
He shifted around a bit, trying to get a clear line of sight. Their voices drifted up to him.
"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."
"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."
Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.
"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"
"B-b-but Severus, I –"
"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.
"I-I don't know what you–"
"You know perfectly well what I mean."
An owl hooted loudly above his head, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He pulled flush to the branch, but couldn't stop himself rolling around it, leaving himself hanging upside down with his broom sitting on top. The cloak remained held to the branch by his left foot, but the other side of it fluttered off him, returning him to visibility. He froze, blood pounding in his ears, desperately hoping that he wouldn't be seen. When it was clear that they hadn't noticed him, he slowly pulled the cloak back over himself. As his hearing returned to him though, the conversation had moved on:
"–your little bit of hocus-pocus," Snape said darkly. "I'm waiting."
Harry waited for a few minutes until he was sure they were long gone, then launched himself and his broom out of the tree setting off directly for Gryffindor Tower, any thought of repairing the Nimbus long gone from his mind. He dropped his broom in the dorm room, and ran down to find his friends. He met them just outside the portrait hole.
"Come on," Harry urged. "Somewhere private."
"Huh?" Neville asked.
He didn't answer, but simply dragged him and Ron along the corridor to the nearest unused classroom.
"Right," said Ginny. "What happened?"
"Snape did," Harry replied. "All this time we haven't even given a thought to the Stone, but he has."
He relayed the conversation between the two Professors as best he could, and their expressions fell with appropriate alacrity.
"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" Hermione asked in alarm.
Ginny and Ron exchanged worried looks. "It'll be gone by Tuesday," Ron stated with a miserable certainty.