Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Interference

"Hey, Ron", I said with fake cheer as I approached my little brother and his friends at Gryffindor table. I squeezed in between him and Harry and swung an arm over both boys' shoulders. "Hey, Harry".

Both boys stared at me with startled expressions. Harry with eggs loaded onto his fork, and Ron with bacon crammed into his mouth. Though Ron recovered faster than Harry. "Merlin", he complained around his mouthful. "It's too early to deal with you". Aw, my little brother is so considerate about my feelings.

"You don't even know what I'm talking to you for", I said as I gave Ron's shoulders a little shake. "I could be here because I want to ask you about… a good defensive move to use in wizard chess…" I trailed off; feeling the disbelieving stares of both boys.

Ron chewed and swallowed before asking in his suspicious voice, "Are you really?"

From the other side of the table, Hermione snorted as she placed her goblet of pumpkin juice down. "Of course not", she said, sounding all-knowing. I rolled my eyes as I removed my arms from over Ron and Harry's shoulders. How much longer until she grows out of this phase? That happens next year, right?

"Hey, Granger. How's the house-elf campaign going?" I asked.

But she didn't take the bait. Ignoring me completely she kept her eyes on Ron. "She wants to ask you about what happened last night".

Ron huffed as he turned in his seat to face me. "I'm fine", he said. "Quit acting like Mum".

I felt my face scrunch up in its best-offended expression. "I don't act like Mum". I, for one, don't sound shrill when I yell, and I don't have a crush on Lockhart.

Ron responded by turning away from me and shoving a fork load of scrambled eggs into his mouth. "You're always with Mum in the kitchen", he talked around the food in his mouth. With his face turned towards his plate, I was spared the unfortunate sight of half-deconstructed food. But based on Hermione's horrified expression, she was getting a front-row seat.

"I like to cook", I replied. I can enjoy cooking without being Mum's mini-me.

"You actually don't mind when Mum makes us listen to Celestina Warbeck on Christmas Eve", Ron continued.

I made a face like I was asking, 'where is this coming from', as I argued, "It's tradition!"

Ron paused just long enough to swallow before he continued with his list. "And you have a compulsive need to always be right". Ron turned to look at me after he made that statement. He narrowed his eyes like he was daring me to deny it. Merlin, this brat. As if we didn't all have the drive to compete with each other and win.

"It's not a compulsion if I am always right", I said; looking over at Harry for support. But the boy-who-lived flushed and refused to look at me. Well… fine then. I thought as I looked back at Ron. We all have flaws and I guess Ron just called me out on one of mine.

As if he hadn't heard me, Ron continued. "And", he said; drawing out the word. "you're always checking up on Ginny and I. And asking if we're okay".

I rolled my eyes at that one. I mean, come on. That isn't just a Mum thing. Dad does it too. And I have memories of Bill and Charlie constantly running to check on me and my fellow triplets whenever there was an inexplicable loud noise in our general vicinity. Of course, they stopped doing that when they realized that Fred, George, and I were making the loud noises… "Do you want me to stop checking that you haven't spontaneously died?"

Ron's freckles faded out of view as color rushed into his checks. "No", he said quietly; ducking his head over his plate.

With that admittance, any annoyance I may have been feeling about the compulsive need comment vanished. There's the little brother I know, love, and probably don't deserve. "Look", I said, this time addressing all three of them. Hermione seemed to hear the change in my tone because she leaned forward ever so slightly. I waited until I was sure both Ron and Harry were also looking at me before saying, "Do you guys remember the troll from last year?" I waited until I got three confirming head nods. "And Ron's rat turning out to be a psychotic cowardly man?" Again, I waited for head nods. Though I also got a shudder from Ron at the reminder of his pet that used to sleep in his bed. "Crazy things happen at this school. So, don't write off last night as just some prank". I paid extra attention to their faces as I said that. If things had been happening as it had in the book, then Harry would have already heard the basilisk and he would have already told Ron and Hermione. Even though, I'm not sure how because we're pretty sure Ginny doesn't have the diary. Though it doesn't help that we don't know when we lost the diary.

Hermione had picked up her pumpkin juice once more and was using it as an excuse to not make eye contact. Ron was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. While Harry… Harry surprised me. Instead of looking away, trying to hide something, he was studying me through the lens of his glasses like he knew I knew things that I wasn't sharing. There was this brief moment where his searching green eyes connected with my warning brown ones, and I got this sense he suspected I wasn't here just to check on my little brother. Interesting. "Which means", I said as I broke eye contact with Harry. "You need to be extra careful". I turned my attention to Hermione.

Slowly, she set her goblet down again and smacked her lip before softly stating, "Because I'm a muggleborn".

"Yeah", I agreed. "I know we're Gryffindors and we like to face our own problems head-on. But the message on the wall wasn't targeting only one or two students but about….a quarter of the student body is being threatened". I guessed. I have no idea how many muggleborns attend Hogwarts or how I would even find that information. "So… I guess what I'm saying is that if we are going to survive this year, assuming last night wasn't a prank, we need to ask for help when we need it and give it to others when they need it". Did that make sense? After hearing myself say it aloud, it didn't sound very clear. Especially since Fred, George, and I should probably be asking for help, but haven't done so. But I got three solemn head nods in return, so I must have gotten something right. Hypocrisy aside.

"So, do you know what the chamber of secrets is?" Hermione asked.

I nodded but decided that I wasn't up for storytime. Especially because I ran the risk of slipping up and revealing more than I should. "Ask Binns", I said. "He'll know more than I do". I got up and walked away before the golden trio could demand more information from me. I got what I came for. Ron's okay and I'm about 95% positive that Harry's hearing a voice coming from the plumbing.

"Ginny doesn't have the diary", George confirmed as he and Fred joined me behind the greenhouses. Since we knew what was slithering around in the walls and under the castle, we felt a lot safer outside. And behind the greenhouses was a place that was usually only visited by lovebirds, so we felt we'd get the most privacy out here. Though we did have the map to make sure.

"At least, we don't think she does", Fred added with a shrug as he stepped over my legs to sit on my left with our backs pressed against the greenhouse's exterior wall. "When we asked her if there were hours in the day where she couldn't remember what she'd been doing, she looked at us like…. How would you describe it, George?"

"Like we were high on potion fumes", George supplied as he sat down on my right. Both their shoulders were touching mine and I suddenly felt steadier than I had since Halloween night.

"Yeah, like that", Fred agreed with George's description. "Hopefully, she doesn't write Mum".

I snorted. "I'd love to hear the howler Mum would send you two about sniffing potions". Fred and George were not afraid to experiment and try new things. But they weren't the types to get high. With how creatively and fast their brains worked, they didn't need a substance to help stimulate them.

"Though your boyfriend wanted to know why we were asking our little sister such a weird question", George said, pronouncing the word boyfriend like it was something to be ashamed of. "He just about demanded that we not bother her when she's sitting at the Slytherin table".

Great. Hopefully, Adrian wouldn't come to me with questions about what Fred and George had been doing. "He's looking out for her", I defended. "That's a good thing. If he's watching Ginny, that's one less thing we have to worry about". When we had decided to split up to talk to both Ron and Ginny this morning, we suspected neither Ron nor Ginny had the diary. For Ginny, with her being in a different house, it would have been hard for it to end up in her hands. And for Ron, he was more cautious about picking up ordinary-looking items than most kids. I think Dad's tales about misused muggle artifacts had really scarred him at one point. But still, we had to check. Especially when we didn't know how we lost the diary in the first place. "Ron and friends don't have it either", I reported. "But I think Harry's heard the basilisk".

"But Harry does end up with it at some point?" Fred asked.

"Yes", I answered slowly; drawing out the /s/ sound. "If we're going by Jessie's memories. But I can't remember if that happens before or after they infiltrate the Slytherin common room". We could check to see if anyone was brewing polyjuice in the bathrooms. But I doubt it. This would be Harry's first planned Christmas with Sirius. They wouldn't want to stay behind to break into Slytherin house if Harry had to miss that important milestone.

George hummed like he was coming to the conclusion of a thought before saying, "I don't think we should trust Jessie's knowledge like we did last year. We changed a lot of stuff. Who knows how that will affect things?"

I mulled over George's words. Things were already different this year than how Jessie remembered them. And there was no way to predict their outcomes. "What are we supposed to do then?" Fred asked. He sounded grumpy. But George and I both knew that he got this way when faced with a puzzle he couldn't crack. It's why we never let him try to solve the crossword in the daily prophet. Otherwise, he'd ruin his whole day.

I hunched my shoulders and rested my chin in the palm of my hand as I balanced the elbow on my knee. "I think we need to talk to Dobby". It was the only thing I could think to do. We didn't know where the diary was or how we had lost it. And as far as we know the only ones who know what the diary is capable of are us, Dobby, and Malfoy Sr. Dobby was unfortunately tied to Malfoy Sr, and we couldn't just owl the older Malfoy and ask him if he had somehow taken back the item he had tried to harm our sister with. So, the most logical thing would be to start with Dobby to see if he knew anything… I think.

"We will talk to Dobby", George assured.

"With luck, he'll be here next Wednesday", Fred added. "But we need to figure out what we can do right now".

I pursed my lips. Fred had a point. I suppose there is a chance that Dobby would make it to one of our Wednesday appointments. But… "He hasn't made it the last two Wednesdays", I pointed out; casting a cloud of doubt over our heads. "What if that reason is because of the diary?"

I could feel Fred and George sharing a look over my head. When you spend as much time together as we do, you start to guess each other's actions without having to see them being played out. "Holls", Fred said after a moment. "Do you have a plan?"

I exhaled loudly through my nose; not completely sure if I wanted to share what I was thinking. "How far away is the Slytherin V. Gryffindor quidditch game?"

It was a crummy day for quidditch. If it was any other quidditch match, I'd feign illness or make some other excuse to get out of going. But for this specific game; with what we had planned, I felt obligated to go. Thunder cracked across the sky as the rain soaked the pitch and all the spectators and players. I shivered in the stands as I shoved my hands under my armpits and ducked my chin down into the warmth of Adrian's scarf. Hopefully, this wouldn't be a very long game. But based on Jessie's memories, I had no way to judge time.

"I can't believe you wore that", Ron commented from my right side; expressing himself with an air of disgust. Looking sideways at him, I raised an eyebrow. He needed to elaborate if he wanted me to understand what I had done wrong this time. "It's a Slytherin scarf", he added like I was a bit slow in the head.

"Your point?" I asked, the question coming out muffled from behind the toasty cozy scarf.

Ron huffed as he glared at me. Like he was confronting a traitor who had committed the highest form of treason. "You're a Gryffindor!" Of course, I knew why Adrian's scarf bugged him. If this was any other game than the Slytherin V. Gryffindor game, I doubted Ron would care what scarf I wore. He knew Adrian and I was dating. He was okay with me dating a Slytherin…. I think. What he wasn't okay with was me wearing green and silver on a red and gold pride day. "People are going to think you're rooting for the enemy!"

I choked on a laugh. Enemy? Good Merlin, spare from the dramatics of sports-obsessed boys. "Honestly, Ron", Hermione voiced her opinion for Ron's other side. "There's more to life than quidditch". Oh, look. Something that Hermione and I had in common.

Ron had his mouth open, ready to prove his female friend wrong when Lee's voice echoed across the pitch and stands to announce the start of the game. "Madam Hooch has freed the snitch. The bludgers have been released, and the quaffle thrown into the air!" I forced myself to breathe as I tracked George's flying form with my eyes. The three of us had gone back and forth about how they were going to pull this off. And none of us were very pleased with the plan that we finally settled on. For one, we had to let Harry break his arm.

But Fred and George insisted that we tried to make the game turn out as close to how Jessie remembered it as possible. Why would we do that? It would be much faster if George and Fred don't try to keep the tampered bludger away from Harry at the beginning of the game? Because Fred and George still wanted Gryffindor to win against Slytherin house. Even though the conversation we had had about this plan is in the past, I still sigh and shake my head. Boys. Sure does tell you a lot about their priorities.

The second issue we had was how we were going to get one of us to spend the night in the hospital wing alongside Harry. Because that was really our end goal. Dobby hadn't shown up on Wednesday again and we knew we needed to question him about the diary. Which only left one other option, getting to him in the hospital wing before he got to Harry. Assuming that Dobby would curse the bludger in this order of events. But in order to achieve that, one of us had to get hurt. Hurt enough that Madam Pomfrey had to keep one of us overnight. Since Fred and George were the ones with their feet off the ground, they were the most logical options. And I hated myself for thinking up this plan.

I watched as George redirects the bludger away from Harry for the first time. At the same moment, Lee announced, "Ten points to Slytherin", meaning that one of the Slytherin chasers managed to get past Wood.

"This is so unfair", Ron said as I struggled to keep my eyes only on one of my loved ones. Did I watch George as he waited for the opportune moment to get taken out by a bludger? Do I watch Fred as he attempts to keep Harry safe until the very last moment? Or do I watch Adrian because the sight of him flying through the air with his rain-soaked hair was making my toes curl? I know two of my options were much clearer choices than the third. But the third option was just so…distracting. I couldn't help myself. "Everyone on the Slytherin team has a new broom. I can't believe it's allowed". Ron commented as the same bludger from before shot toward Harry again.

"Does that bludger seem off to you?" Hermione asked.

Ron, Hermione, and I watched just long enough to see Fred intercept it with his beater's bath; changing its trajectory. The bludger took off towards the Slytherin goal posts. "Nah, it's okay", Ron said. "Fred got it". Even though I could already tell that the bludger was circling back around.

Knowing that there was nothing I could do to help; I turned my eyes back onto Adrian. Just in time to see him receive a feint pass from Flint before throwing the quaffle through the middle goal post. "And Pucey just scored another ten points for Slytherin", Lee's voice announced as the Slytherins in the stand erupted into cheers. "I doubt it'll happen again. Pucey isn't-"

"Jordan", McGonagall's verbal reprimand echoed throughout the stadium.

Ron nudged me with his elbow to get my attention. When I made eye contact with him, he said in an almost reproachful voice, "Why aren't you cheering for them?"

I answered with a roll of my eyes. "Just because I want Adrian to have a good game doesn't mean I want Gryffindor to lose". My little brother sure does have a one-track mind.

Ron frowned as if he didn't believe me. He turned back to the game as he muttered under his breath, "Yeah, right". And I have a compulsive need to be right?

"There it goes again!" Hermione said, in a louder voice than she had been using all game. She's pointing at a blur moving through the sky again. And it didn't take a genius to figure out what she was talking about. Fred intercepts the bludger once more before it could slam into Harry's middle. "It's definitely targeting Harry".

"Aren't bludgers supposed to do that?" I questioned. Of course, I knew more than they did. But I thought it would seem strange if I didn't say anything.

Ron shook his head, as Slytherin scored another goal. "They're supposed to charge players at random. Not stick to one person. Think it's been rigged?" Ron asked as Slytherin scored another ten points.

"Slytherin is in the lead by thirty to zero", Lee's voice reported, sounding completely depressed.

I kept rotating my eyes in a sort of triangle; watching Adrian, watching Fred and George. watching Ron and Hermione. If they tried to interfere with the match before Harry broke his arm, I'd have to stop them. But I'd have to do it in a way that wouldn't raise suspicions. The match continued with Fred and George preventing the bludger from getting to Harry. Or at least that was what it looked like they were doing to everyone else. When Slytherin managed to raise the score so they were in the lead by sixty points to zero, George saw the opening he had been searching for. I forgot to breathe as I watched the scene unfold.

As the rogue bludger zoomed forward on a straight path right for Harry's back, George blocked its way by a mere second before the bludger would have passed him. When we had agreed to this stupid plan, I had told him to make sure he got hit in his legs, arms, or shoulders. With a broken bone, we'd probably be able to convince Madam Pomfrey that he needed to stay in the hospital wing overnight. Even more so if Lockhart tried to help. But it wasn't worth the risk to suffer any blows to the head or abdomen. There were magical ways to heal concussions, traumatic brain injuries, and internal breathing. However, they could still be dangerous if left undetected. Except, with the bludger tracking Harry like how a heat missile tracks a target, the bludger adjusted its course when Harry did. Shorter than a blink of an eye, the moment George got in the bludger's way was the same moment when Harry pulled his broom handle up to get a higher altitude. The bludger lifted upwards before George could react. A gut-wrenching crack echoed throughout the pitch (or was that my imagination) as George met the bludger face first. In the stands, a few girls squealed amongst a chorus of "oooh!"

The force of the impact forced George backward as the bludger continued its path, still chasing after a fleeing Harry. "Merlin, no", I whispered in horror; forcing myself to breathe. George's weight was completely thrown. He had no way to save himself as he toppled over the end of his broom. Without a rider, George's broom hovered in the air for a few seconds before cartwheeling towards the ground; free-falling like its owner. My hands slipped out from under my armpits. What should I do? I have to do something. But this… this wasn't something we prepared for.

From where the commentary was being broadcasted, Lee was in hysterics. "George Weasley is Falling! George Weasley is falling! Somebody catch him! Someone better bloody well catch him!"

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, bringing the players to a standstill. Even the bludger chasing Harry stopped; meaning Dobby must at least have the sense that bludgeoning Harry at this time wasn't optimal. While the Slytherin players remained in one place, hoovering on their brooms as is the protocol when an emergency whistle is blown, the Gryffindor team pivoted their brooms in George's direction. Probably spurred on by Lee's plea. Fred made a frantic dive in the air. He dropped his beater's bat as he reached out with one hand to grab his identical brother, even though he was several feet away. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey was prepared. With a swish of her wand and a cry of, "Aresto Momentum", she caught George with her magic. The speed that he was falling at slowed until it looked like he was moving at the same speed that an elevator does. It was only then that I became aware of my agitated heartbeat that felt like it was straining to burst out of my chest.

When George's form was eye level with where I was standing in the stands, I and everyone I was standing with got a good look at the damage. Which in this case, meant blood. Lots and lots of blood that gushed from his nose, over his closed eyes, staining his forehead, and mixing with his hair. I stumbled backward. What, the bloody hell, had I done?

My movement seemed to spark a reaction from those around me. "Is he going to be okay?" I heard people mutter amongst themselves.

But the only thing that registered as more than a blip on my radar was when Ron grabbed my hand. Temporarily distracted from my fright and guilt, I looked down at my little brother. His face was pale and his eyes were larger than normal. Probably a reflection of my own. "Holly", he said, voice high-pitched as an expression of his terror. But what he said next, showed a more mature Ron than I had ever seen before in this life. "I'm sure George will be fine. But let's…", He paused and swallowed like he had to steel himself. "Let's go down to the pitch and check, yeah?" He didn't wait for me to respond as he pushed himself ahead of me, tugging on my hand until I followed. He paused only long enough to mumble something to Hermione. Ron had… stepped up. He took leadership at a time when I was absolutely beside myself with panic. When did…. I didn't know he knew how to do that.

The game was still at a standstill, the players still aloft, by the time Ron got us onto the pitch. But Madam Hooch had finished lowering George to the ground, and Madam Pomfrey was already on-site; wavering her wand over a still George from his right side. A couple of yards away lay George's forgotten broomstick. Or at least half it did. It looked like the handle had snapped in half, but I couldn't see the second half anywhere. Of course, I also wasn't looking very hard.

There was only one other person next to George when Ron and I rushed onto the pitch. Fred crouched next to our triplet's head on his left, gripping George's hand in his with a grim frown detailing his face. "How bad is it?" Ron asked as soon as we were close enough. I'm a little surprised Madam Hooch let us on the field in the first place. But, I suppose, no one would be willing to begrudge George his family at this moment.

I let go of Ron's hand and sank down to my knees next to Madam Pomfrey. The Hogwarts school healer didn't look away from her patient as she listed off, "Broken nose, broken teeth, and likely a concussion. No bleeding in the brain." I think she was talking more to herself than us because a list of injuries wasn't something you shared with other students, family, or not.

"And a bruised pride", an almost incomprehensible voice chimed in. My focus snapped up to George's face. While still covered in blood, I could see his brown pupils peeking out from under swollen eyelids. "A beater getting bested by a bludger, unforgivable".

Thanks to my limited medical knowledge, I knew George being awake and talking was a good sign. But while my panic subsided, my guilt increased tenfold. How the hell was he able to find humor in this situation? He just got his face broken because of my suicidal plan! He should be cursing my name right now. Not making jokes!

"Be still", Madam Pomfrey ordered as she worked. This whole time, Fred didn't say a word. Nor did he look away from George's face. Not until Madam Hooch approached.

"Do you need anything, Poppy?" She asked.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I need to get him to the hospital wing, but I can manage just fine on my own".

Madam Hooch nodded and moved until she was standing next to Fred. "Go to you captain", she told him as Madam Pomfrey stood up and cast a levitation charm on George. "There will be a time-out before we resume play". George was lifted gently into the air, his quidditch robes trailing on the grass as he was moved. "That is if you still want to play", Madam Hooch finished talking to Fred. Fred was tracking George with his eyes, but he must have heard her because he nodded before turning to me.

"Stay with him?" He asked. I nodded. At that moment, I'd had done just about anything either he or George asked of me. Fred started to head in the direction of where Wood was still hovering in front of the goalposts.

Something heavy was sitting in my gut as I watched Fred walk away. I needed to say something to him. Something that accepted my responsibility in this matter, but I had no idea what. Instead, I turned to keep up with George. I could at least keep him company in the hospital wing and apologize. But George had other ideas. "Wait", he said, causing Pomfrey to pause. I stepped closer so George could see me before he said. "Holly, can you stay and wait for Fred? Ron can come with me", he said, gesturing to our little brother who was hovering close by. "I don't want him to finish the game alone". That was what he said, but what I think he was trying to tell me without giving us away was, 'stick to the plan'.

Hang the stupid plan, I thought. But I nodded, voice failing me. I guess since I'm the one who came up with this foolish idea, I have to see it through to its awful end. Hopefully... Hopefully, Fred wouldn't be mad.

"The Gryffindor team has decided to continue playing despite being a beater short", Lee announced to the entire pitch as Madam Hooch got into position to restart the match.

I had moved to the opening that led to Gryffindor's locker room to watch the match from there. Hopefully, it wouldn't last much longer. During the impromptu time-out, the pieces of George's broomstick were collected and the two teams landed and huddled for quick strategy discussions. Now, as they took to the air once more, I started to shake. For this part of the plan, Fred would not intervene with Harry and the rogue bludger. Giving Harry the space he needed to find the snitch and win the match, but also to allow the bludger to break Harry's arm.

Madam Hooch threw the quaffle and the game resumed. Adrian got to it first. He snatched the quaffle out of the air just as Alicia reached for it. As soon as the Hooch had given the go-ahead, the same bludger from before blurred through the sky as it trailed after Gryffindor's youngest quidditch team member. Harry flew like a bat out of hell. Zig-zagging like pinball, going up and down like a roller-coaster, and twirling in circles like he was riding a bull in a rodeo. It was an amazing thing to watch. And under any other circumstance, I would have admired Harry's flying ability.

Harry ended up dashing in front of Adrian as he led the bludger away from the other players? Why had he gotten that close in the first place? Had he seen the snitch? But it forced Adrian to quickly pull his broom to a halt to avoid colliding with Harry, giving Angelina the opportunity to fly up, knock the quaffle out of Adrian's grip, and zoom off towards Slytherin's goalposts without Adrian being able to do anything about it. Losing the quaffle didn't seem to bug him. Even though it led to Flint shouting something at him as he passed by. All Adrian did was stay still, eyes tracking either Harry or the bludger. It was unclear from where I was standing. "Ten points to Gryffindor", Lee announced after Angelina secured Gryffindor's first goal of the game.

Harry had his arm stretched out in front of him with Malfoy riding his tail. He's definitely spotted the snitch then. Still, why was Adrian just hovering in the middle of the pitch; watching?

The bludger came out of the left field. Barreling straight into Harry's arm. For the second time that day, the crowd erupted with, "oooh!" But Harry's injury wasn't as debilitating as George's had been. He barely paused, as he pulled his now useless arm close to his body; steering his broom with one hand. Still, he persevered after the snitch. The bludger turned until it was on Harry's trail once more. Malfoy briefly pulled in front of Harry, but with the bludger so close, he soon lost his nerve and pulled up and away from the line of danger.

As if coming to a decision, Adrian leaned forward until he was lying flat on his broomstick handle. He shot off in the direction of Harry and the bludger. What was he doing? Meanwhile, Harry had lowered himself a little closer to the ground. He scooted forward on his broomstick, but only a little so he wouldn't mess up his balance. He reached out with his good arm; now only steering his broom with his thighs. I blinked once, and Harry was now tumbling off his broom and towards the ground with his fist clasped around something. This must be the end! The bludger zoomed in his direction. Without a broom, Harry was alarmingly vulnerable. Hadn't he been inches from the ground when this happened in the book? Or was that the movie?

Just like with George, Harry's fall was slowed. Unlike George, Harry's fall wasn't slowed by magic. A hand reached out and grabbed Harry by the neck of his quidditch robes. Adrian! He had left the game in order to help the boy he had gotten to know a little over the summer. Adrian, still laying flat on his broomstick and with his face twitching from the strain of trying to hold onto Harry with one hand, started to lower his new nimbus 2001 towards the ground. "Potter got the Snitch!" Lee's voice roared throughout the snitch. Though he didn't seem to know what to say about the Slytherin helping Harry, because he didn't comment on that part.

However; with everything that Adrian was trying to do, he couldn't fly fast enough. His path was intercepted by the bludger. My heart leaped into my throat, and for the second time that day, I forgot how to breathe. "oooh!" The crowd erupted again as the bludger smacked into Adrian's unprotected side.

No!

Adrian fell sideways off his broom, never relishing his grip on Harry.

No!

Harry hit the ground first, body curling around his broken arm as he bounced a little on impact. Adrian followed a second later. He landed on his back in a crumpled heap about a foot away from Harry. But unlike Harry, he didn't bounce. The only thing he did was let go of Harry's robes.

He wasn't supposed to have any part of this! I yelled in my head. Madam Hooch blew her whistle. Except for this time, the bludger didn't stop. Somehow, I found myself running onto the pitch; my wand pulled from my pocket and clenched in my hand. Why had he…. Why had Adrian gotten involved? He was playing on the opposite team! He should have been fine! The bludger shot high into the air before rushing towards the boys lying on the ground. A quick spell from Madam Hooch, I'm assuming, stopped it from doing any more damage.

"Adrian!" I screeched once I reached his side; throwing myself to the ground with my back facing Harry so I could get close to him as quickly as possible. His chest was heaving as he lay still; legs pulled up slightly and his right hand pressed against his side. But no matter how much he heaved he seemed unable to draw breath. Did he get the wind knocked out of him? At least he was awake. I knew he was when his grey eyes locked with mine. "What hurts? Is it your ribs?" I demanded to know, even though I knew deep down that he wouldn't be able to answer until he could draw breath again.

A crowd started to form around Adrian, Harry, and me as others came to the boys' aid. "Way to go, Harry!" I heard someone exclaim.

Adrian's teammates surrounded him. But they weren't paying me attention, so I didn't feel the need to do the same for them. "What the hell were you thinking, Pucey?" I heard someone ask; Flint, I think. "Why would you try to help Potter of all people?"

He received no answer. Mostly because Adrian was currently unable to, and because I was too busy trying to see if Adrian had any hidden injuries to yell at Flint to shut up. "What about your toes or fingers?" I asked, leaning over my boyfriend. What if he had hurt his spine? "Can you feel them? Can you wiggle them?"

"Not to worry Harry", I heard behind me. "I'll fix your arm. It'll be as good as new in a jiffy". That could only be Lockhart, I noted in the back of my head. That meant that despite all of the casualties, the plan was still playing out as we wanted. And I hated myself for it.

"No. Anyone but you", I heard Harry say.

Adrian made one last heave before his lungs finally started to take in air. He coughed a little as his body got used to receiving oxygen again. He flinched as each cough aggravated his injured side. Ribs. It had to be his ribs that got damaged. Oh, Merlin! What if he had punctured a lung?

"Poor boy doesn't know what he's saying", Lockhart said with a laugh. As if laughing was appropriate in this situation.

With the hand that wasn't pressed against his side, Adrian reached up towards me. His hand slipped under my hair and rested against my cheek. "You're wearing my scarf". His voice came out hoarsely.

"Brackium Emendo", Lockhart said, dramatically rolling the R.

"You're pretty when you're worried", Adrian said in the same hoarse voice. Acting like he was completely unaware of everyone and everything surrounding us. He was talking like it was just us back in his family's garden; staring up at the stars. "Did you know that?"

"Ugh Gross", a bunch of different people exclaimed from behind me. At Harry's rubber arm; I'm assuming. I'm… pretty?... What?

"Adrian, did you hit your head?" I asked slowly.

"Ah, yes", Lockhart said. "That can happen. But at least Mr. Potter doesn't have any broken bones".

"He doesn't have bones in that arm at all anymore", Someone commented.

Adrian's hand withdrew from my cheek. "I'll be okay", he said. His voice was less hoarse now that he had used it a couple of times. But he still spoke carefully, like it hurt to make even the smallest sounds.

A shadow loomed over Adrian and me. At first, I didn't think about it. Harry had already lost the bones in his arm. The second part of our plan was done. We'd have to wait until tonight before the third part of our plan could be carried out. So, I thought it was just Fred; waiting for when we could go check on George. But then I heard Lockhart, "Another quidditch injury. Allow me to offer my assistance here as well".

My eyes widened and something in me snapped. No. Absolutely not! The bones in an arm were one thing. But a ribcage was entirely different. If Lockhart vanished Adrian's ribcage there would be nothing to protect his organs from being jarred. There wouldn't be space for his lungs to expand while inhaling. Twisting my torso from where I sat next to Adrian's side, I raised my wand. Pointing it and aiming for the spot between Lockhart's eyes. "Don't even think about it", I threatened; my voice coming out darker than I had ever heard it before as I felt my magical energy build up. It was already bad enough that George took a bludger to the face for us to try to figure out what happened to the diary. It was bad enough that we couldn't prevent Harry from having his bones regrown. It was bad enough that Adrian got hurt in the crossfires. But no way in wizard hell was I going to let Lockhart accidentally kill my boyfriend. "If you even so much as move your wand around Adrian, I'll show you exactly what it feels like to not have any bones. And it wouldn't just be your arm."