Disclaimer: Standard stuff (I don't own anything, I won't be making profit, any resemblance to previously published content is purely coincidental, JK Rowling is the coolest, etc.). If I make any legal errors regarding copyrighted material, inform me and I will correct them immediately.
Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar
The remaining days of term came and went with little fanfare, with the exception of Dumbledore's tribulations with the Wizengamot. After his expulsion on Friday, November 27, Harry had floo-called Augusta Longbottom, the new Chief Warlock, about securing his godfather's freedom; his tone had conveyed the urgency of his request, and his assurance of continued friendship between the Potters and Longbottoms contained just enough of a threat of unfriendliness (such as the kind that had seen Dumbledore fall from grace so spectacularly) that she immediately arranged for Sirius to be questioned by Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE. A few questions with veritaserum (under Remus's watchful eye) later, he was a free man by the end of the day; Amelia immediately dropped all charges, and began printing "Wanted: Dead or Alive" (wizarding justice was often unambiguously...biblical) posters for Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew.
Remus and Sirius had thrown a party that very night, and Harry had managed to make an appearance. During the pandemonium at Hogwarts following the Wizarding Wireless News's announcement of Dumbledore's expulsion from the Wizengamot and Sirius Black's subsequent clearing of all charges, Harry had snuck out through the Shrieking Shack, then apparated back to Grimmauld Place. After recovering from a tear- and prank-filled night, Harry dragged himself back to Hogwarts the next afternoon, and Daphne was pleased to see that he couldn't get the smile off his face for the rest of the day.
As the end of term approached, Harry was asked to the Yule Ball by several girls, including Ginny Weasley, Susan Bones, Padma Patil, and Katie Bell. However, he politely declined each advance, without giving any indication as to who he would be escorting. Thus, Harry's date to the dance became the new hot topic for the Hogwarts rumor mill—apparently, once Dumbledore had been ejected from the Wizengamot, all the juicy gossip about him had dried up, and the twittering witches had moved back to their old standby: Harry Potter.
"It's like they have no grasp on reality," Daphne commented, closing the latest issue of Teen Witch Weekly, which maintained that Harry would be attending the Yule Ball with the entire Veela mascot squad from the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team. "And why do they even care so much?"
"Because they are idiots," Harry grunted between spells. He was practicing channeling fire and lightning at the same time, and it took a great deal of concentration. Harry had noticed that after the Hunter ritual, he could channel fire nearly as well as he could channel lightning, which was an extremely useful development. He had more or less let Daphne in on most of his secrets, with the exception of his animagus form and his relationship with Annie Oshkosh; she was actually much easier to talk to than Ron or Hermione, since she would actually let him finish speaking without interrupting indignantly or with incessant questions. She had been extremely interested in learning how to channel environmental magic, and Harry had been slowly instructing her. True to her loving of the outdoors, she proved to be quite adept at manipulating earth, water, and plants—arguably even more so than Harry—after only a few attempts.
With the help of Remus, Sirius, and Daphne, Harry had worked out several different possible approaches to the second task. He had even procured gillyweed via owl-order, and scouted the lake; it was clear from his brief but informative conversations with the merpeople that the four hostages would be tied to a large mermaid statue in the center of their village, and Dumbledore had negotiated with them to keep the hostages safe from any of the dangers in the lake (the one-hour time limit, then, was simply to lend a sense of urgency; he was assured that the merpeople had been instructed to bring the hostages back to the surface after that limit was exceeded).
Remus's suggestion was straightforward—use gillyweed again, and simply swim to the village, untie his hostage, and swim back, and just kill anything that got in the way. It didn't have much pizzazz, but it would be an excellent fallback. Sirius's plan was to use a bubblehead charm and make use of his thunderbird's inherent apparition abilities to flash to the village, untie his hostage, and flash back; of course, this would have the side effect of exposing him as having a thunderbird animagus form (after all, anyone could do a bit of research), so it was definitely his last resort—in fact, he decided that he would rather lose the task than expose his animagus form. Daphne wanted him to cast a strong compulsion charm on the giant squid, and have it grab his hostage and deposit it on the shore—it was functional, but Harry was worried that the only charm he could cast powerfully enough to control such as large magical creature would be the Imperius Curse, and he wanted to avoid looking too much like a dark wizard. Harry hadn't told the others about his own scheme, because it was still in the planning stages; if he could get it working, it would be spectacular, and have the side effect of making the other champions look completely inadequate.
Vanishing the rubble from several exploded target dummies (which Winky was making by the dozens these days), Harry flopped down on the sofa (which Winky had helpfully put into the main part of the Chamber) next to Daphne. In an instant, a cold glass of water appeared next to his hand. Winky really was an excellent house-elf, Harry thought as he drank the water. Barty Crouch, Senior must have been insane to dismiss her.
"Who are you going to the ball with?" he asked. He felt more than a little jealous; after all, he and Daphne had been snogging since the first task, and their encounters had slowly been becoming increasingly daring and intimate. Both teens were rapidly becoming quite fond of each other, and were regretting the necessity of keeping their burgeoning relationship hidden—not that they cared what the public would think; rather, Harry wanted to keep Daphne out of the tournament, so they would need to remain incognito until at least the second task had passed—as doing so significantly cut down on the amount of time they could spend together.
"Anthony Goldstein," she said with a shrug. "He's alright, I guess; at least I know he won't try to get fresh with me, since I'm pretty sure he really would rather go to the dance with Terry Boot."
Harry blinked in surprise. He had heard of those preferences, but he had never really put much thought toward the possibility; such a thing was rare enough in the muggle world, but in magical Britain, it was almost unheard-of. "Huh. Really?"
"Yep," Daphne confirmed. "And you should hear what those boys say about you—power is an aphrodisiac, you know, and you put on quite a display with that dragon."
Harry's jaw dropped open, and after a beat, he clapped his hands over his ears. "Nope. Too much information. You stop that!"
Daphne laughed. Her laugh, Harry noted distractedly, was high and clear, like the ringing of a bell. He suddenly had the urge to "get fresh with her" himself. Thankfully, Daphne shared his enthusiasm.
At breakfast on the last day of term, Harry received a large, book-shaped package. Slightly irritated at himself for forgetting to tell Winky to take delivery of all of his packages (he had told her to route his mail to him at breakfast), he opened it to find a large, leather-bound book and note from Jacob Crane.
Dear Harry,
I've been keeping up with you in the press (well, as much as the Daily Prophet counts as actual press), and I must say that I'm quite impressed by your takedown of that dragon. It's a rare wizard who can go toe-to-toe with a beast like that and walk away alive, let alone without a scratch.
Anyway, you should find enclosed a first-run printing of the newest edition of my family's text, On Combating the Darker Forces of this Earth and Beyond. It's a family tradition that any outside contributor is entitled to a signed copy of the text and a small percentage of the book's sales, which will be deposited directly into your Gringotts account. The updated chapter thirteen has already gotten fantastic reviews, and several law enforcement organizations have benefited from your contribution and the memory you provided. If you ever find yourself back in the States and need a way to spend your time, stop by the Franklin Institute—I'm sure we'll be able to find a place for you there.
Wishing you a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year,
Jacob Crane
Harry smiled, quite pleased with the gift, and flipped through the book briefly to take note of which sections had been updated (apparently, all of them had). He had long since realized that once his name was in print, someone would eventually get word to Dumbledore, so he was no longer particularly concerned about concealing his summer activities. Several students at the adjacent tables took note of the title of the book that Harry was apparently quite happy to have received, and Harry knew that the jig would be up by the end of the holiday. He steadfastly ignored Hermione's piercing stare (the one she got when she was trying to figure something out), and knew that she would make it her mission to find out before the Yule Ball. Not that it mattered; he would be spending the holiday far away from Hogwarts with Remus and Sirius.
Since very few students of fourth year and above were actually going home for the holiday, there would be a relatively large contingent at Hogwarts, and nobody seemed to have any real idea of how to pass the time between the end of term and Christmas. Viktor Krum, of course, had an idea that the Weasley twins seized upon immediately.
"Quidditch! Quidditch, Harry!" Fred and George practically shouted as they slid to a halt in front of his booth in the Great Hall. Harry slipped the book and note into his bag, gestured invitingly to the seats—the other students (and hilariously, Professor Trelawney) had learned very quickly not to sit in Harry's booth without an invitation—and the twins sat down, panting from their sprint from...wherever they had been.
"Krum wants to play a pickup tournament tomorrow!" one twin said breathlessly. "And—"
"—the best part is that each champion will be captain of their own team!" interrupted the other, pointing at Harry.
"What do you say, Harry!" both cried out, putting on their best pleading puppy-dog faces.
Harry, who had been watching the twins' antics with a bemused look on his face, sat quietly for a moment, letting them—and the entire Great Hall, which was watching with bated breath—dangle. Finally, he gave a long-suffering sigh.
"Fine, I'm in."
The next morning, Harry found himself standing on the Quidditch pitch with the other three champions, and a line of about thirty prospective players. Most of the remaining students and staff were watching from the stands. In a scene uncomfortably reminiscent of the first task, Madame Hooch had the captains choose a folded piece of parchment with a number written on it, to determine who got the first draft pick. In a stunning reversal of his typical fortune, Harry's piece had a bold number one written on it.
"Fred Weasley," Harry chose immediately. He knew that Cedric actually quite disliked George after an incident the previous year (both had gone after the same girl, and at one point nearly came to blows; George still hounded Cedric with pranks mercilessly almost a year later), and the foreign champions wouldn't realize how well the twins worked together, so he was virtually guaranteed to get both.
And so he did. A few minutes later, Harry sat in the stands with his team: Fred and George as Beaters, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia as Chasers, and Tracey Davis as Keeper. He had been fortunate to grab the Gryffindor Chasers, who were extremely good, and Daphne had given him an inside tip about her friend Tracey; apparently she was a Quidditch fanatic on the level of Oliver Wood, but the Slytherin team didn't allow girls. Ron had had the gall to be put out at not being chosen as Harry's Keeper; in fact, he had shouted, red-faced, at how Harry was "mental" to break up what would have been an all-Gryffindor team in favor of a "slimy Slytherin" (conveniently forgetting that Harry himself was no longer a Gryffindor), before stomping off to the stands, completely ignorant of the many snickers and rolled eyes that accompanied his departure.
As Harry had anticipated, Cedric filled his team with Hufflepuffs (and Cho Chang, Cedric's girlfriend and date to the Yule Ball), Viktor chose several of his friends from Durmstrang, and Fleur packed her team with Beauxbatons students (and Roger Davies, who would apparently accompany her to the Yule Ball). The first match would be between Fleur and Viktor, then Cedric and Harry would play, and the winners of the two games would play each other for the final.
Viktor led his team into the air, followed immediately by Fleur and her team; already, Harry knew that Viktor's victory was practically a foregone conclusion. Fleur and her friends from Beauxbatons didn't play organized Quidditch, instead only having scrimmage matches every once in a while, and the French students were also clearly having problems in the cold (warming charms were, of course, prohibited in standard play), being much more accustomed to the relative warmth of the south of France. The Durmstrang students, though, were perfectly at home in the cold (Scottish winters were practically balmy compared to those in Scandinavia), and Krum was an international-level Seeker. His friends obviously weren't at his level, but they were quite good, and simply having Krum in the air clearly had huge effects, both practically and psychologically.
Viktor was a very active Seeker, constantly swooping down to disrupt the French Chasers, which helped his own Chasers take possession and inevitably score. Fleur, though, was still a fairly good flyer, and managed to rally her other Chasers to score a few goals on Viktor's Keeper. However, it was quickly becoming clear that Chaser play would not save the French, and Viktor Krum was literally out of Roger Davies's league. After only about fifteen minutes of play, the score stood 80-30; Krum casually snagged the Snitch, ending the game and knocking Fleur's team out of the running.
After a brief break, during which the Hogwarts house-elves ran ran through the stands frantically handing out hot cocoa, it was time for the next match. Harry didn't bother giving his team a pep talk; rather, he had simply stared at them and growled at them to win (the "or else" was left unsaid, but was nevertheless heard loud and clear). After a slight pause, the Weasley twins cracked up, and the team had bustled onto the pitch and into the air. Harry and Cedric shook hands, and flew up themselves.
Harry hadn't been on a broom in several weeks; he had been going out to fly at night as a thunderbird and working on controlling his impulses (that is, flying around without causing storms), and compared to that, a broom—even one as fantastic as a Firebolt—was something of a letdown. Nevertheless, he rocketed around the pitch as fast as ever, scanning for the Snitch, feinting around Cho (Cedric had bowed to his girlfriend's wishes and put her as Seeker; a poor choice, Harry thought, as Cedric was much better than Cho) and diving into Chaser formations. He didn't even need to manipulate the air currents; he could feel them, and instinctively took advantage of every thermal, every gust of wind, and even every bit of turbulence. Cho simply couldn't keep up. Fred and George happily blasted Bludger after Bludger at the entire "HuffleClaw" squad; combined with Harry's constant harassment, Cedric's Chasers were rendered almost entirely ineffective, and Angelina, Katie, and Alicia practically ran the pitch, taking advantage of the teamwork and chemistry built over several seasons of playing together.
Cedric was a skilled flyer, and he had a good build for a Keeper, but his relative inexperience at the position was costing him dearly, with Harry's experienced Chasers racking up goal after goal. With Fred and George monopolizing the Bludgers, Cedric's Beaters were virtually powerless to help defend against Harry's Chasers. Soon, the score was a whopping 110-10 (an errant Bludger had caused Tracey to miss a Quaffle; her subsequent fury had scared Fred and George into upping their defensive game even further), and Harry spotted the Snitch hovering a few feet above the snow-covered ground, directly under Tracey's hoops. He shot off toward it, blasting past Cho, who had been looking in the wrong direction, and caught the Snitch in his left hand as it tried to dodge upward.
Cedric was as gracious in defeat as he had been in victory the previous year (when Harry had been knocked out of the air by swarming dementors), and after a few "good game" handshakes, the teams and spectators all took a break for lunch.
"That was brilliant," Tracey squealed, bouncing in her seat as she bit into her sandwich. "Oh, I wish stupid Flint would let me on the Slytherin team. Playing for real is so much fun!"
Harry nodded. "You did really well—Flint is an idiot for not putting you on the team. Then again, he's an idiot for a lot of other reasons, too. I don't see why Snape doesn't take a heavier hand in the squad—it's obvious he wants to win."
It was true; since Harry's first year, it had become clear to him that the fabled Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry had been extended to Quidditch for a long time, but McGonagall and Snape took it to a whole new level, "politely" sniping at each other over every captured Snitch and dropped Quaffle.
"Because he's an idiot too," Tracey huffed.
"I agree," said a deep, heavily-accented voice from behind them. They turned to see Krum standing there, hunched awkwardly (he really was less impressive on the ground than in the air, Harry thought). "You all played very vell. I look forvard to flying against your team. Especially you, Harry Potter. You fly better than Lynch. And I never got to say...you did very vell in first task. Very vell."
Harry was startled by the praise—sure, Lynch hadn't had his best game at the Quidditch World Cup, but he was still an international-level Seeker, and arguably one of the top five flyers in the world. Plus, Krum hadn't seemed too friendly before the task; maybe blowing up a dragon is one way to get his attention.
"Thanks, Viktor," Harry replied. "I'm looking forward to it, too."
After lunch, the spectators and teams assembled back at the Quidditch pitch. Harry also noticed a slew of reporters—he hadn't seen them before, but he had been focused on the games, so maybe they had been there the whole time.
"Great," he muttered. "Now the whole world will see Krum stomp me."
But when he and Krum shook hands in front of Madame Hooch, the thunderbird within Harry's soul stirred in a familiar way. The beast recognized that a great challenge lay before it, and resolve shot through Harry like current through a wire. There was no way he was going to back down—this game was in the sky, and the sky belonged to him.
Seconds later, the game began. The Durmstrang players were strong and fast, and matched Harry's team, Bludger for Bludger, pass for pass, and shot for shot. Harry and Krum disrupted plays, dodged Bludgers, and kicked Quaffles, all while feinting, diving, and scanning for the Snitch. For the spectators and reporters, it was like watching a fencing duel between two generals in the middle of a larger battle.
It was Quidditch like Harry had never played. Everything was faster, and it was almost as though strength and speed flowed from Harry and Krum to the rest of the players. Lee Jordan could barely keep up with the commentary, and for once McGonagall didn't have to yell at him for editorializing; there just wasn't enough time for him to get the words out. After nearly an hour, the score was dead even at 50-50 (despite the collective fantastic play of the Chasers, the Keepers and Beaters were all putting up excellent defenses), and the Snitch had been found and lost twice by Harry and Krum. Each time one had been about to catch it, the other had swooped in to cut off the attempt.
Suddenly, Krum dove down. Harry instantly followed in his wake; he remembered Krum's repeated use of the Wronski Feint at the World Cup, but it was possible that he had seen the Snitch, so Harry had no choice but to follow, and hope to be able to pull up in time if it was a feint. The two Seekers dropped straight down from over five hundred feet in the air. By the time they approached the ground, neck-and-neck, both were going much faster than the official maximum speed of their Firebolts. Then, a glint of gold drew Harry's eye upward—the Snitch was across the pitch! Krum was feinting!
Harry and Krum pulled up at the same instant, using every ounce of strength in their bodies to wrestle their brooms away from the ground. Earlier, Krum had said that Harry was a better flyer than Aidan Lynch. Now, Harry proved him right—while Lynch had slammed into the ground after Krum's Wronski Feints, Harry was able to pull out in time, with the tips of his trainers carving grooves in the top layer of snow. Harry rocketed toward the Snitch, leaving a blast of white powder in his wake. Krum saw where Harry was going, but he was already off-course—he was not a professional Seeker for nothing, though, and gave chase anyway. Such was Krum's skill that he was neck-and-neck with Harry within seconds.
Every eye turned to the race. Even the other players stopped paying attention to the Quaffle and Bludgers, knowing that the Snitch was about to be caught, one way or the other. A hush fell over the stands as both Seekers reached out a hand...
Harry raised his fist, with the still-fluttering wings of the golden Snitch sticking out the side, and the assembled crowd erupted. For all the differences between Harry Potter and the rest of Hogwarts, he was still one of theirs, and he had just captained a Hogwarts Quidditch team to victory against the best player in the world. Only seconds later, the rest of his team slammed into him, slowly sinking to the ground in one large pile.
The rest of the day was spent in celebration; the Great Hall had been turned into a giant buffet, and the students and numerous guests (which had included at least a dozen scouts for professional Quidditch teams, as Harry found out later) milled about, eating, drinking, and generally being merry. Even Harry was having a good time—a rarity for him this year, as he had felt almost obligated to be unpleasant in large groups since the Goblet Incident—and Remus and Sirius were present (the former trying to keep the latter from making a fool of himself, and largely failing). In between pranks and hugs, they told him that Sirius, in his capacity as Harry's godfather and legal guardian, had already been approached by several scouts who wanted to know if Harry wanted to go professional. The general consensus was that every player from that last match had played well above a typical school level—for whatever reason, the stars had aligned, magic had been in the air, and that had been the best Quidditch match ever played at Hogwarts.
The surprise of the night came when Tracey Davis cornered Harry to thank him for picking her for the team.
"...And I guess I should thank Daphne, too," Tracey finished. At Harry's shocked look, she continued. "Come on, it's not that hard to figure out, even though Pansy and Millicent are too stupid to see it. Harry Potter is gone all the time, Daphne disappears sometimes, Daphne knows I love Quidditch, and then somehow Harry knows I love Quidditch?"
"Don't say anything to anyone," Harry pleaded. It was her turn to be surprised—Harry actually seemed worried about it.
"I won't," she promised. "But why do you seem so scared about it? I'm sure she would have gone to the Ball with you if you had asked."
After he explained his and Daphne's suspicions about the second task, she understood, and promised to keep her mouth shut (though she would make no such promise about "girl-talking" to Daphne about him). After she skipped away, still buoyed by the thrill of victory, Harry watched her grab Daphne's arm and drag her over to a corner, presumably to "girl-talk" about him.
Finally, near midnight, the party died down and most of the guests left, though some were too drunk to apparate or even floo, and were led to the guest quarters by house-elves. Remus and Sirius had thought ahead and made portkeys, to avoid that very issue (as both could barely stand, let alone pronounce "Number 12 Grimmauld Place" into a fire); both disappeared after slurring and hiccuping their way through the activation phrases. Harry had packed his things the night before, and would be meeting them at Number 12 the next morning. He needed to put in an appearance at breakfast, to make sure Dumbledore didn't think that he had left with or been taken by any of the guests from the party.
As Harry prepared for bed down in the Chamber bedroom, Winky appeared.
"Master Harry, Miss Daphne be wanting to come down," she squeaked. "Should I goes to gets her?"
"Yes, please, Winky," Harry replied, pulling on a tee-shirt. "Show her to the bedroom door, and I'll take it from there."
Seconds later, there was a rapid triple-knock on the door. Harry smiled to himself—both Annie and Daphne were creatures of habit. Just as he had learned to pick out Annie's footsteps and door-knock, he had learned to do the same with Daphne. He walked to the door, wondering if that was something that all men did with the women they cared about, or if it was just another thing that made him weird. He pulled open the door, and was again struck by how familiar this picture was: Harry looking baggy and absurd in a doorway, and a beautiful girl standing expectantly, this time wearing a very thin, very sheer silk robe. In the dim, flickering light, he couldn't tell exactly what shade it was, but he knew just from knowing Daphne that it would the same exact deep blue of her eyes.
Daphne raised one perfect eyebrow. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Smiling, Harry stood aside, and Daphne walked inside. By the time he closed the door and turned back around to face her, her robe hung loosely around her body, supported more by her breasts than by her mostly-bare shoulders. The chill of winter did not reach the Chamber, especially within Salazar Slytherin's bedroom, and Daphne's arousal was obvious. Harry's eyes tracked back up to Daphne's. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head a few degrees to the side, and Daphne gave a slight nod. To further punctuate the answer to his unasked—or, at least, non-verbal—question, she allowed her robe to slide all the way off as she closed the remaining distance between them.
That night, the few inhabitants of the castle who were still awake (mostly house-elves) were treated to a few hours of low, deep, rumbling thunder from the dark, cloudless sky.
Author's Note
Intrigue! Politics! Quidditch! Plot developments! Harry gets some!
Why wasn't Dumbledore's expulsion from the Wizengamot and Sirius's questioning and subsequent clearing by Amelia Bones done "on-screen?" Because they didn't need to be, and they would distract too much from the primary plot, which remains centered on what happens with Harry. Short asides with Wormtail or Crouch are one thing, but I didn't want to spend five or ten thousand words on events that Harry won't see directly. He's already put in the input that he's going to in order for those things to come to pass, so I'm able to move on with just the bottom line.
I originally wasn't going to include a Quidditch game (honestly, I never really like reading Quidditch scenes in fanfic, and even the relatively short descriptions of the games were tough for me to grind out), but Harry loves flying, and he loves Quidditch, and a pick-up tournament seemed like just the sort of thing that teenagers would put together, and use to prove to the adults that there was never any good reason to not hold Quidditch that year.
I've always thought it was absurd that there were only six Quidditch games per year—why the hell aren't there more? It's not like it requires any great amount of time or effort to organize, and they don't have to travel anywhere to play. Compare Hogwarts to an American non-magical high school (I'm just assuming that the British schools are roughly equivalent)—there are about a dozen football games, a dozen soccer games, even more baseball games, field hockey, ice hockey, swimming meets, track/field meets, plus dozens of clubs and intramural sports...if a school that can't use magic for shortcuts can organize that many sporting events, than a school led by goddamn Gandalf should be able to figure it out. Also, why weren't there any Quidditch games in canon during Harry's fourth year? The Triwizard Tournament took up, collectively, about five hours of spectator time, and only the first task was interesting to watch (there's not exactly a magical Jumbotron showing what's going on in the Lake or the Maze)—even though it took a lot of effort to organize, Quidditch doesn't, and they missed a perfect opportunity to play interscholastic matches, rather than just their normal intramural league.
I decided to include the whole "the Goblet of Fire can judge" thing because I seem to recall a big deal being made of it being an "impartial judge," it seems to me that in a tournament where the headmasters of the schools give scores, an intelligently-written ruleset would have a check against the sort of blatant partisanship shown in canon. Using that rule to get around the judges is one of Harry's ways of showing how ridiculous the tournament is. Remember that he's got two Marauders and a Slytherin "managing his team," so he's going to find ways to twist the rules in his favor.
I've read some of the more prominent HP/Dresden crossovers, including Shezza's Denarian series (which I recommend, as it is quite good).