[AN]

My beta sent me this, and a promise made is a debt unpaid. Also, I just finished the story and I was checking the last few chapters to make sure I got everything on my timeline in order, and I saw a line I had left out of the story. It doesn't add as much plot-wise, but Quidditch has always been an important part of Harry's story. Besides, I like Owen.

[/AN]

Chapter 31 - The Red Rocket

The first Saturday in May saw the match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The weather was perfect, and since Hufflepuff didn't have a phenomenal seeker, and Draco Malfoy usually relied on following the other seeker around until the snitch was spotted, it might end up being a long match; which was fine with all involved. Harry soon found himself in the stands, squashed between Parvati on his right, and Ginny on his left. It was, overall, reasonably pleasant.

Owen Wilson was feeling much better today, after having suffered through the flu since the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff match, and he was back in his old form again.

"This hasn't been the best year for Slytherin...you'd think they'd make a better showing with newer brooms." Owen paused. "Which isn't to say it's a bad showing. Just a less good showing than some other teams."

Ginny leaned in. "They have their weakest team in years. If they didn't have new brooms, they wouldn't even make a showing."

Harry nodded, but he was distracted by the smell of her hair. It reminded him of clovers.

"Oh! Another save for Hufflepuff. They don't cheat and it never stops them from playing their best." A chorus of jeers echoed from the stands. Owen corrected himself hastily. "Not that Slytherin cheats. Creative interpretation of the rules, and all that.

"Cadwaller loses the quaffle, but manages to avoid that bludger somehow, and Slytherin recovers. It's a fast drive to the ring...wow! A fantastic score, and perhaps Zacharias Smith should be given the Slytherin assist there as the quaffle went right off the side of his head and through the ring!"

It looked to Harry like the actual intent had been to hit Zacharias in the head, and the goal had simply been a happy accident. It couldn't have happened to a nicer Hufflepuff, in his mind. As if she was reading his mind, Ginny leaned over again.

"Too bad his nose is still on the proper side. Do you know that that cheeky blighter asked me the other day?"

Harry didn't get to hear what Zacharias had asked...Parvati turned to him and started talking. He knew Zacharias well enough to know that it was undoubtedly tactless. Owen interrupted Parvati as the crowd roared. "Summerby has the snitch...and now of course Draco Malfoy has it..." He paused as McGonagall shouted in his ear. "They've seen him play; they know his game! And Draco out-dives Summerby...and as he goes by, it gets physical...and Malfoy comes up with the snitch, which puts an end to his teammates' struggles, but Hufflepuff still takes the match, 220 to 200, on account of Slytherin not being able to save anything." Owen leaned back again as McGonagall presumably yelled at him. "Were you at this match? They saw it. But uh...there will be next year for Slytherin...remember that." Harry changed his mind -no one would talk to McGonagall like that- that must have been another student.

They milled for a bit, enjoying the weather, and gradually, the stands thinned out more and more until there were only a handful of people left.

A good number of the witches and wizards in the deck of Wizarding cards had been exposed to Quiddich in some form during their lives. Harry was just describing the game to them. Salazar Slytherin seemed certain that the Hufflepuffs had cheated in some way, and Harry was about to tell him off properly when he finally connected two obvious dots.

Salazar Slytherin was grinning almost imperceptibly.

"You were having me on..." Harry said as he tucked the cards in his pocket.

"Took him long enough, Sal," said a voice he was certain was Helga Hufflepuff. "It's like he thought you were evil or something. Anyway, I'm sure my lads beat yours fair and square..."

Parvati glanced over. "Are you talking to chocolate frog cards?"

Harry didn't want to admit it, so he scooted over to Parvati, minding the wooden benches to ward off splinters in the back-side. "Would you rather I talk to you?"

"That's the way these things usually go down," she agreed.

"You were occupied. Did you learn anything interesting?"

"Aside from a lot of second years cursing themselves because they heard it was worth extra-credit, not much," she admitted. "Slow week."

Harry wished he could tell her just a bit about Wormtail or Connor. A giant cat and a giant rat...it hadn't been slow for him. He did throw his arm around her, which felt so casual it even surprised him. "I'm sure it will get better."

"Yeah?" she practically purred. "How can you promise something like that? Do you know something I don't?"

"I'm just saying. It's a Saturday. I've no plans. If you have no plans, maybe we can have no plans together?"

"Are you sure you don't have plans?" she asked. "Because it sounds to me like you've been thinking this through. That's called a plan, mister."

From Harry's pocket came the very faintest of voices. "How romantic!"

"I think I'm going to be sick," a second replied.

"Not on me!" That sounded like Fullbert the Fearful. Parvati didn't seem to hear them. She simply leaned in for a kiss. Harry felt duty-bound to give her one.

They returned to the common room nearly two hours later. Parvati had run into Lavender outside the portrait-hole, so Harry entered alone.

Hermione looked up. "Your lips have gone all chapped. You've spent too much time outside."

"Uh..." Harry started. Parvati handed him a tiny jar, which he assumed was a balm of some sort, and Hermione turned back to her books, which literally covered the table.

"You'll have to be more careful," Parvati announced, grinning. Her lips were glossy, and Harry wasn't sure how hers survived the overdose-inducing snogfest that had ended literally minutes ago. He still had the vague urge to kiss her again, right here in the common room. Somehow, he heroically resisted.

Harry spent the next week being as normal as he had ever been. He'd hardly ever had had a normal week; it felt somewhat out of place to him. In DA, the less advanced group had finally got it through their heads that running away wasn't exactly a weakness. They were to the point now where they helped cover one another's retreat. Harry's books had mentioned that the most dangerous time in any battle was the strategic withdrawal, and the DA students had taken that to heart.

The advanced group functioned like a Quiddich team who had been playing together for years. Even Cho Chang, who appeared to have developed a healthy disdain for him, was a capable dualist, and a team player when it came down to it.

In potions, his third attempt at the binding potion came out spot on, so he wasn't going to get kicked out. When he tried it, he was immediately certain that the comparison to pomegranate juice was a good one. Now all he would have to do was add the crushed up fruit flies and then dissolve a braid-hemp or hair-after that. In the margins of his book, someone had written braid of rat tails, braid of stag tendons, braid of dog fur. He didn't think he'd have to go that far...that bit made him a little queasy, but honestly, he'd eaten worse, when he thought about it, which he tried not to do. As he fumbled with crushing up the fruit flies, some of which were still trying to fly away, he was abstractly hoping somewhere that he would get tossed from the class, but that was only a small part of him. Connor leaned over. His potion was nearly done as well. Snape hated him as bad as Neville, maybe even worse; but he was a solid student, and so hard to intimidate that for the most part, the Professor had moved on to easier prey.

"Know what you call a fly with no wings?" He deftly caught one of the humming insects and plucked off its wings, which he dropped carefully in the pile of parts that Harry had already assembled. Harry shook his head. He did not know what they called a fly with no wings. "A walk," Connor snickered, and tossed the now wingless fly to the table, where it tried to scurry away. He turned back to his report, which he gotten as a punishment the previous week for using Butterfly Weed, a uniquely American ingredient. Harry smiled as he corralled the escaping fruit fly.

A walk. Perfect.

The daily prophet had nearly daily articles about how nothing had been seen of the Dark Lord by anyone outside the fiasco at the ministry, and even went so far as to speculate that perhaps since the only people who had actually seen you-know-who were the ones in the ministry that night, maybe a rogue spell was to blame. Fudge had found a resurgence and was still somehow the minister, but his approval was still so low that he kept his mouth shut, other than publically question whether he really saw Voldemort. Oh, he never actually denied it, but he did question it. Harry wisely ignored the politics, as Kinglsey frequently urged. For years people had been telling him to ignore things rather than let them get to him, and he was astonished to discover that it was advice he probably should have taken earlier. Granted, things still bothered him on some deep level, but perhaps the Occlumency was finally paying off; Harry had apparently turned a corner. He honestly wasn't sure what he had done right, if in fact he had done anything and not just finally gotten it. Regardless, he looked at things with a new sort of detachment.

It completely infuriated Snape, so naturally, Harry could not have been happier.

"I hear your pet half-breed had a rough weekend."

"I didn't know that. I'm sure your wolves bane potion was perfectly adequate."

Snape changed track. "Patil finally came to her senses, eh Potter?"

Harry had no idea why Snape would even say something like that, but it didn't change his answer. "Frankly, I don't know what she saw in me in the first place."

Snape was growing more desperate to find something insulting. Harry could feel it. Whether that was an Occlumency thing or just good old mundane sensitivity didn't matter; he knew it was true.

"I see no one has taken your idiotic motor bike away from you yet. Unfortunately, your arrogant father and his equally pretentious flea-bitten excuse for a friend managed to avoid falling off of it. Perhaps we'll have better luck this year." Harry knew he should be angry but he could also see how desperate Snape was to get a reaction. He continued to play imperfect scales, and when the shadowy ponce tried to hex him, he blocked it with an uncanny speed that even surprised him, in an abstract way. Even more surprising was the fact that he didn't follow the shield charm with a curse of his own. He had a feeling Snape was direly hoping for that. The idea that Snape was fuming in his robes made Harry so ecstatic that he had to put a little effort into not showing how happy he was.

Eventually, Snape pointed at the door with his wand. Off to the side, the blue orb glowed softly. Harry could have sworn he'd seen it flicker from the corner of his eye. What it had taken the form of made no sense whatsoever. It had to be one more thing to confuse him. "Out," Snape said, resolutely.

Harry continued to play for a few more moments, then rose and nodded politely. "Certainly, Professor. Have a good night, Professor. Same time next week?"

"Out!" Snape roared. Harry caught a small glimpse of something in Snape's eye.

It was just a hunch, but..."Their rival is Arsenal."

"Get. Out. Potter!" Snape turned him with a wave of his wand, and pushed him out the door, and Harry finally allowed himself to smile. Oh how wonderful life could be when you could make someone hate you that much simply by being polite to them.

When he turned the corner at the top of the stairs, the entrance to the actual dungeons, Malfoy pushed by him with a startled look.

Something told Harry to turn around, and as he did, he saw Draco standing a few stairs down, staring at him thoughtfully. He was reaching for his wand. Harry felt as though everything in his life so far had come together this week, and he was certain that if Draco pulled the wand, he would be very, very sorry.

"Don't bother, Malfoy."

Even though Draco's lip twitched, and he never took his eyes off Harry, he dropped his hand, and after a moment, continued down the stairs.

"Kiss my arse, Potter."

"Maybe if you buy me dinner and whisper in my ear," Harry responded.

Draco continued to glare even as he descended the stairs. "You wish, Potter."

"You better watch where you're going," Harry said. "You might fall."

Draco scowled and Harry watched him until he was out of sight, and then continued on his way.

The weather was so beautiful that Harry rode his motorbike every day. Connor was on the other one some days, and some days it was Dean. The only downside was that he had to buy petrol and talk Hagrid into getting it. It turned out the tank had been magically expanded, but eventually, his bike ran out of fuel. He wasn't minding it all too well, it was fortunate that he was on the ground when it happened. The black bike was the same way, but it used more or wasn't expanded as much, so it went through even more than his.

Harry really didn't mind. It was a small price to pay for freedom, and it was downright miraculous that Dean and Connor had gotten the second bike to run at all. He saw them making more than one part for it, and even when it was allegedly assembled, it didn't look entirely there. How it ran was anybody's guess.

But run it did and they rode both bikes almost non-stop after classes. After he was confident that he wouldn't end up on the wrong side of the seat, Harry started to give people rides. Parvati was with him a few times, and once he even consented to a bubble-head charms, so that when they got air-borne, Parvati could lean forward and their bubbles would fuse. This made it so that they could easily talk. Harry still believed that the nice thing about the motorbike was that it made talking so difficult, but it was a concession he was willing to make, in the name of chivalry.

Even Hermione went with him once, even though she swore she never would. Harry would have bet she had a good time, but she'd never admit it. Ginny went for a ride as well, but only once. Harry wasn't entirely certain that where she was putting her hands was proper, but he was certain that it was a hazard. Even forgetting for a moment about what Parvati might say...if he crashed the bike, far too many people would be able to say "I told you so."

The cards loved the flying motorbike, and Harry got used to putting them in the small bag that was attached to the front under the headlamp.

In Defense, they were still working on the Patronus charm, off and on, and also working on creative ways around using curses or dealing with dark magic. The first was a waste of time to Harry, since he'd been able to do it forever, and since most adult wizards couldn't conjure up a corporal Patronus, Kingsley was not especially hard on the rest of the sixth-years, even if the best they could manage was a misty ball. His stag marched around the room proudly. It was much harder to manage with Dementors there to make you go spare, but in the classroom he managed just fine.

The second part was at least interesting enough to be enjoyable. Protego was high on the list of ways to deal with the dark arts...as near as anyone knew, that was one of the few spells that could really never be used against anyone. Harry had that spell down to an art form. He considered his Shield charm to be second only to his expelliarmus, and both ended up getting him high marks and Gryffindor a few points. Even better, thanks to him, and the DA, nearly every other student was incredibly proficient with them.

Even more amusing were the conversations they had about how to judiciously use magic.

"Let us say, for the sake of argument, you suspected a friend or acquaintance to be under the influence of the imperius curse. How could we work our way around that?"

The room was silent as they considered that. Finally, Hermione hesitantly raised her hand.

"Miss Granger?"

"Confundus?"

Kingsley tilted his head as he thought about that. "Explain."

"Well, if it seems to have no effect whatsoever, it would indicate that...someone else is driving, so to speak. Wouldn't it?"

"I don't know," the auror admitted. "Never tried it. But it seems sound. Five points. Good thinking, Granger."

"Wait," Draco said. "You mean to tell me you're asking questions and you don't know the answers?"

"It's called 'discussion', Mister Malfoy. You are very nearly an adult, and I think you'll find when you become one that very few things magically become more certain."

Draco scoffed but didn't argue. Harry wasn't about to talk about the charms Parvati had used on Draco when he had tried to catch them unaware, but in his opinion, she got this section as well as anyone. It almost made up for her drawing flowers and vines all over his notes.

The very next weekend was Gryffindor's final match of the year. The clouds were high, the temperature was perfect, and the wind was almost non-existent. From inside the player dressing rooms, Harry could already hear Owen Cauldwell ramping up.

"I wish he'd just shut up already," Ron frowned. Harry knew his friend suffered from pre-match anxiety.

"Shut it, Weasley," Katie said, before Harry could offer up anything. "He's doing his job. You get out there and do yours!"

"Besides," Ginny added, "he's right. Ravenclaw has four returning seventh years; six if you count reserves. If anyone can beat us, they can."

Ron grumbled but simply laced his helmet as though it had done something improper to his owl. Harry had his own pre-match ritual, one that Wood had drilled into him. Before taking to the pitch he stretched every muscle and then jumped up and down manically until his legs were a bit numb and tingly. He had his Firebolt, he had his team, he had a day that was practically made for Quidditch, and he had a chance to do something that wouldn't alter the world, but people could respect just the same. When you got right down to it, that was what Harry loved about Quidditch...it was a chance to do great things without having to do Great Things.

He looked over his shoulder, where Natalie was rubbing her palms back and forth quickly, rolling her broom in her hands. Tiny sparks flew from the polished wood. She glanced up at Harry and smiled, then tilted her head up and shook her hair, which was tied back in a simple pony tail. The other three seekers had done the same, and so had Emer Rath. Harry didn't mind the uniform, but he was glad he didn't have to worry about coordinating hair-styles with anyone on the team.

He looked back over his left shoulder, where Ginny Weasley was smiling at him. He smiled back, and Ron clapped him on the back.

"Stop making eyes at my sis. It's now or never!"

Harry walked on the pitch to thunderous applause. There couldn't have been that many Gryffindor fans...likely everyone was simply ready for a good match. They probably all felt as he did; the day was perfect, the end of the year was in sight, and all had been quiet on the Y-K-W front. These were some people who wanted to see a match.

Well, Harry was here to oblige them.

Both teams stepped up to the tipping-off point, where Madam Hooch was standing calmly, holding the quaffle above her head.

"This is going to be a good match. Same rules as they've been all year. Ravenclaw?"

Roger Davies nodded somberly.

"Gryffindor?"

Katie Bell smiled.

Madam Hooch tossed the quaffle high into the air, and both teams took to the skies.

Ron once again showed off Natalie MacDonald's handywork as he streaked up and back to his spot in front of the Gryffindor rings, just in time to deflect a very early scoring attempt.

"Oh! And Bradley is denied straight away by Ron Weasley...we should have a nickname for him, what do you think? I Ron Weasley? Ron 'the wall'?" Ron managed to smile and McGonagall tapped Owen on the ear with her wand.

Harry had forgotten how good of a flyer Cho Chang was. She very nearly kept up with him, even on a broom which was, on parchment, far inferior. They both dropped into seeking patterns fairly quickly. It was looking like today was going to be one of those days where the snitch relentlessly teased them.

"Chang has the snitch! No wait! She had it! Now Potter has it! And the little Creevy...is it Dennis or Colin? They're both little! Dolin, we'll say...Dolin Creevy almost comes up with the snitch, and how wild would that have been?"

Harry was beginning to see why the Chasers had all done their hair up like they did. Even though he knew he had to be at his sharpest, it was hard not to glance occasionally as the flashing hair and pretty girls danced through the air on their brooms. For the Ravenclaw chasers, all boys, it had to be almost maddening at times.

"Ginny Weasley comes up with the quaffle after that nice block by Ravenclaw. What name would she have? Red Weasley?"

"Shut up, Owen!" Harry was fairly certain that had been Ginny who yelled.

"No, they're all red," he mused. "How about Red-Hot Weasley?" Harry peered over his shoulder to see Ginny hurl the quaffle at Owen, who dove under the table. A small silver and red blur streaked by and intercepted the wayward ball. "That's a nice save...perhaps I should call it an assist, by MacDonald. Fiery-temper on the beautiful Weasley girl." He crawled back up to his seat, still holding his enchanted megaphone. McGonagall reached forward and tweaked his ear.

"Ahhh! And the Weasley, the not pretty one..." he paused as McGonagall slapped him with a rolled up piece of parchment. "That is to say Ron Weasley saves a nice one. Can't compliment anyone these days!" Harry heard the Whap of the rolled up parchment again.

"Davies really has these Ravenclaws in top form. They are here to play today, folks! And Chang has the snitch, and this time she dives!" Harry peered down in hopes he could beat Cho to the snitch. Not only would he not beat her, she wasn't going to get to it, as the tiny golden spark was rising as fast as a normal broom could travel. Even as he watched, it twinkled into the shocking blue of the sky and then vanished again. Cho casually pulled out of her dive near the Gryffindor rings.

"And we're sitting tight at 60 apiece. Gryffindor has to win this one by 160 points if they are to take the cup, so even if Potter sees the snitch now, catching it does no good, but he has to keep Chang of the gold, or Ravenclaw could take the cup. Let's he what he does."

Running interference sounded far simpler than it was when Cho was involved. After another three blocks, the last one a fantastic save off the fingertips, Natalie recovered the quaffle and tossed it to Ginny.

"Red Rocket!" Katie Bell yelled. Harry looked to Ron. Did Katie really expect him to leave Cho all alone when she'd already seen the snitch over and over? Did she expect Ron to leave the rings when the entire game was hinging on a goal and a capture? "Red Rocket!" she shouted again.

So, apparently she did.

"Here's something we've not seen before," Owen said, his voice starting to raise. "Gryffindor Captain Katie Bell has a 'pull all the stops' run to the rings...and what a fantastic tap that was by Colis Creevy...just flipping amazing, really. Didn't give it much of a ride, but he put it right between Weasley and Weasley.

"Oh they are really flying, and who has it? Who has it? Chaser Katie Bell has it as she makes a wicked feint to the center and...yes! Yes, she puts it through the left ring! That's south-east for those of you who are part pigeon! Gryffindor scores! But they still have to find the snitch before Ravenclaw can return the favor!"

Ron had peeled off immediately and was flying as fast as his broom would go, back the Gryffindor side of the pitch, even before the quaffle even made it through the ring. Katie quickly looped around, and Harry realized that she was headed straight for him far too late to get out of the way. He tried anyway, but she grabbed him in a crushing embrace.

As she did, she kissed his cheek. Then she spoke in his ear. "Right ring, Potter." Harry saw the snitch immediately. It was directly behind the right ring, which was probably why she had put the quaffle through the left. He spun his broom as if he intended to return to the Gryffindor side, then shot to the right, making a looping circle. When he was nearly to the left-hand ring, the Ravenclaw keeper must have seen what he was up to, and started to turn in slow motion.

Maybe Natalie had managed to squeeze a little more out of the Firebolt...maybe Harry had simply never pushed it past what felt reasonable. Either way, there was a shudder from deep inside the broom as he simply blew by the Ravenclaw Keeper and slammed into the snitch. After a few moments of deceleration, he felt save enough to grab the trapped orb. He held it over his head and the crowd exploded with cheers.

"Captain Bell takes a tremendous gamble, and it pays off! Potter has caught the snitch! Hold on...it looks like Davies is talking to Madam Hooch...I think he's trying to make his case that Ravenclaw was stooged..."

Harry was dropping slowly to the ground, watching the animated discussion unfold. Madam Hooch was shaking her head, motioning widely with one hand. Harry couldn't hear her at all, but he knew what that meant. So did Owen.

"And it looks like Hooch isn't buying it..."

The crowd had gone silent as Harry drifted towards the center of the pitch.

"Madam Hooch, the Ravenclaw Chasers, and Bell and Weasley the younger are all in it. And it looks like the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor beaters are tapping the bludgers back and forth to each other, and they both look totally knackered...that's class for you..."

Madam Hooch was flipping through a small book. After a few moments she turned to the crowd and blew her whistle, which was enchanted to be louder than it had any right to be.

"I don't believe it! Gryffindor has been called for Blatching! Bell and Potter! I don't believe it! I've never seen a player called for skinning a team mate! And...and yes! Ravenclaw takes the penalty shot, since the foul is technically on Bell, for Gryffindor! Merlin's teeth!" That's one I've never even considered! Bell is protesting, but it doesn't look like she really has a leg.

"It looks like Davies wanted the foul to invalidate the catching of the snitch, but that's something else that isn't in the rules, and it looks like they're going to let it stand, and give Ravenclaw the penalty. Wow, there's one to wrap your head around. Who says this isn't a thinker's game? Brilliant tactical move by Roger; even though they can't win the game, they can deny Gryffindor the Cup.

"Davies is up for the Ravenclaws, and Weasley has a determined look in his eyes. Davies isn't a fancy flyer, so there won't be tricks there...and he comes streaking down the pitch...how Weasley can face that...I don't know. Now Davies brings it back...and there is fancy flying! He brought that broom to the right...his right, Weasley's left, with his knees! And somehow, Weasley seemed to read his mind! And Weasley is there! And he makes the stop! He makes the stop! He's not I-Ron! He's not 'the wall!' He's just...plain...magic!"

Roger stayed in the air for a moment, then drifted slowly down. He locked eyes with Katie. After a few moments, he shook his head, and offered his hand. Owen was going hemorrhagic, and McGonagall was letting him get away with it, for now.

Nobody wanted to waste too much time in the changing room, because they knew what was waiting for them back at the castle. Harry practically magiced his robed back on, and still he, Emer, and Ginny were the only ones left. Emer smiled back at him as she trotted out with her broom in her hand. Just before they hit the door, Ginny turned on Harry so fast she almost knocked him down.

She kissed him, and it wasn't just a friendly, "good-game" kiss. It was a "hi, my name is Ginny, and I want to snog you senseless" kiss. He had enough restraint to push her back, but she didn't look offended, or hurt, or guilty at all. She merely smiled. Harry wouldn't have minded a kiss like that from Parvati...he knew that thought was a good sign...but he felt a little guilty that it didn't feel as wrong as it should have.

"What are you doing?" In his mind, that question seemed stupid the moment he asked it.

"Kissing you, stupid."

"I have..."

"I know," she interrupted. "Just think of it as a 'we did it' kiss. Or don't think of it at all. Whatever. I just had to know what it felt like."

"Why?"

Ginny cocked her head. "Because it doesn't feel like that with Dean. Whether it's you, or...not you, it's never felt like that with him."

Harry thought about that. The kiss had been ok, but honestly, the first time he kissed Parvati was more electrifying. "Good or bad?"

"Good," she said.

"Then you have the wrong bloke. I mean, I like Dean and all, but you know. Why settle?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "You didn't feel anything, did you?"

"Don't get me wrong," Harry said. "It was nice..."

Ginny held up a hand. "I'll make you a deal."

"What?"

"I won't ever say anything if you don't."

Harry extended a hand. "Deal."

He and Ginny walked back to the castle. He had the vague certainty that he had narrowly escaped a very awkward situation.

Back in the common room, things were just getting started. Someone was handing out sweets, someone else was handing out butterbeer, and the MVP trophy sat under a sheet on one of the tables, which hand been dragged to the middle of the room. Dean appeared to be waiting for them, because once he saw them enter, he pounded on the table with a fist.

"I know this is the moment you've been waiting for. Well this week, it was a tough one. Really." Everyone cheered. "Yeah," Dean continued. "That's a good problem to have, right? I mean, our whole team deserves this!" Hermione cheered at that, from her spot on one of the sofas. "Still...we had to pick someone, right? Well Captain Katie..." Dean paused while people cheered. "Captain Katie called a play very few people would ever use the proper way..." There was more cheering. "I mean, she scored, then she did our famous seeker's job for him, and for that, she gets a penalty!" There was a chorus of boos. "Then, even after that, our keeper -our magic keeper- saves the day." Ron stood and bowed. There was a very nice poster of him on the wall. It was a picture of his final stop, and after he caught the quaffle, and while he was still gazing at it intently, the word "magic" flashed overhead in letters that were dark, but still transparent. Everyone in the common room cheered. "So we decided this week, maybe these two would just have to get along and share it."

He pulled the sheet off, where the newest plate had Katie Bell - C, and Ron Weasley - K on it. The picture alternated between Katie's Score from the 'Red Rocket' and Ron's cup-winning penalty save. Ron smiled at Katie, and she smiled at him. The two of them hoisted the trophy together long enough for a Creevy snapshot, and another round of cheering.

Harry was especially happy...he had won, someone else had gotten the glory, and he was convinced -for now- that he was kissing the right girl. How could life get better?

Whenever Harry and Parvati needed a little alone time, they would simply ask Hagrid for permission to find more Bluecap Spliners. Parvati was so good at capturing them that she could usually procure in an hour what took most wizards an entire night. That left them with some free time. Harry was quickly mastering the bubble, and he was getting quite skilled at kissing, as well. Since Parvati and Lavender were never far away from each other during the day, it was nice to get some time alone with her. Harry wouldn't say he didn't like Lavender...she was okay...but he would say she got old in a hurry. She hadn't forgotten about the Prophesy, either; though she seemed to think she was clever enough to get it out of Harry without him noticing. Muggle studies was her favorite place to try to ply more information out of him, though she wasn't shy about trying it when the odd opportunity presented Itself.

By the third week in May, the opportunity had presented itself frequently, as Harry found himself assisting Parvati with her astronomy an alarming amount, and Lavender was almost always with them. Lavender took astronomy -at least the divination part of it- more seriously than Parvati did.

Harry was not enthused with this. He had been only too happy to bomb out of those particular disciplines, and was not in the least interested in where Mercury happened to be on Sundays at tea-time, even if Parvati had a talent for making it sound interesting or Lavender really, truly cared.

Talking about Astronomy or Divination wasn't really that bad. One could have some fun...maybe they could be creative. Doing it was unabashedly lame, however, and Harry refused. Only bribes from Parvati kept him at it. It was one such night he found himself on the Astronomy Tower, looking for a comet they may or may not be able to see and cursing all the stars in the sky.

Really, they all looked like comets to him.

Parvati had told him where to look, and Lavender was along for this trip, so he basically had to look for the stupid comet all night without a hint of relief, which was in his opinion a total waste of a trip to the astronomy tower. He wasn't asking for much, but was the occasional midnight kiss too much to ask for? Not only did he get no kiss; by midnight he was nearly asleep, by one, nearly catatonic, and by two, nearly mad. 'Round about three, about the time he was starting to drool, Parvati called it off.

"If we haven't seen it yet, I don't think we will," she announced. Harry could tell by her voice that she was disappointed, but he couldn't always save the day. Making comets appear was beyond his brand of heroism. If the comet tried to hex them all on the way by, he might be able to do something. If it didn't show up at all, well; what did she expect?

Harry packed up the telescope he'd been using, which Parvati had borrowed from Emer Rath, and stood by the door, waiting for the two girls to stop yammering and go inside. Maybe it was nice during the day, but clear nights were cold nights, and tonight was clear and cold. He stamped his feet and Parvati looked up.

"Kabir Harry! If you're that tired, go on. We can make it."

Harry was going to argue, then shut his mouth. Why? If she was willing to let him go, he was going, whether she was mad or not. He wearily trudged down the stairs to the common room, passing by a sheepish-looking Natalie MacDonald. Harry paused and cocked his head to the side.

"I couldn't sleep," she explained, shrugging.

"So...what are you doing here?"

"Astronomy bores me to tears," she said. "Perhaps it will make me sleepy." Harry was too tired to argue. Frankly, he was lucky he wasn't sleep-walking by now. He'd used invigoration charms at eleven and one...he was crashing hard, but if he used any more, he wouldn't get to sleep tonight. Natalie was a big enough girl to understand what she was risking. When Harry was almost back to the common room he glanced down a short hall off to his side. Perhaps if he hadn't been taking Neville's eye potion resolutely throughout the year, he'd have missed the lump near the end of the hall, but he saw something and abruptly turned to the hallway. Did someone dump something down here? Maybe they even lost it.

Harry made it nearly to the end of the hallway before he saw what the pile was. He dropped the telescope, which crunched ominously, and reached for his wand.

He didn't know what happened after that, only that he was lying at the ground and staring at a very mangled face that he eventually realized was Neville Longbottom's. There was quite a bit of blood; he could smell it, feel it, and even taste it. It made a pool so deep on the floor that it came up to his lips. It was warm and sticky, and it tasted like pennies.

Harry couldn't move, and he didn't see the booted foot until an instant before it slammed into his face.

Three more times the foot slammed into his he ad, and then it moved to his ribs. Then he saw a gloved hand reach down and savagely yank Neville's head back. A feeble sigh escaped Neville's lips, and then a harsh violet light filled the hallway. Harry was doing his best to stay conscious, but he was failing, in the end.

If he could just reach his wand! He tried to move his arm and it still wouldn't budge. He had no idea if he had been petrified, or just beaten too badly to move anything, but it didn't surprise him. If he would have regained the ability to move at all, he certainly would have screamed by now.

The sickly violet light continued and Harry drifted in and out of consciousness. Several times it seemed as if Neville was on the verge of making some sort of noise, but his friend never even opened his eyes. Occasionally, something would flash, and some new pain would start somewhere on his body. A very faint voice was asking if everything was okay.

Did everything really look okay?

After what seemed like forever, Harry heard a far-off scream. Something crashed again, and then a boot crashed into his nose again. It might have fixed something that it had broken before, because suddenly everything was in focus. He knew that boot. He was wearing a pair just like it, in fact; only his boots were dragon hide.

As Harry's eyes closed again-Merlin's beard, but it hurt to even blink-he found himself thinking that he was right about the American after all. He'd never gotten less satisfaction out of being right, and then, mercifully, everything went dark.