Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Nine - Sectumsempra

When Harry told his friends about his success with Slughorn and the subsequent conversation with Dumbledore, he was met with looks of shock and horror.

"They're pieces of his soul?" said Blaise with a shudder.

"And there's more of them out there," Harry reminded him with a solemn nod. "I have to find them all and destroy them before I can defeat Voldemort. For good, this time."

"And Dumbledore is sure that the snake is one of them?" asked Millie.

"That's what he thinks. And he's been right about everything else so far."

"The snake you can handle," said Blaise confidently, "You're a parselmouth, after all. It's the other two I'm worried about. Where in Fangorn Forest are you supposed to find Hufflepuff's cup?"

"Or something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw," added Nell thoughtfully. She had joined them for breakfast that morning, and had been sitting in quiet contemplation since Harry concluded his recitation of the events of the previous night.

"I don't suppose you have any ideas?" asked Harry.

Nell shook her head. "I've never heard of any relics that might've belonged to any founder, let alone Ravenclaw. I'll try asking around, though."

Harry would have liked to include Hermione in their discussion. She had read Hogwarts: A History, at least seven times, and likely knew more about the school than the founders themselves. But at the moment, she and Neville were distracted by a bustle at the Gryffindor table. Katie Bell had returned to Hogwarts.

After a brief stay in the school's hospital wing, Bell had been transferred to St. Mungo's. Though rumors were rampant that she had never left the hospital, and would be staying there indefinitely, in truth, she had spent the majority of her long absence convalescing at home. It was only recently that her parents, with some encouragement from Dumbledore, were convinced to allow her to finish out the term at Hogwarts.

Harry was relieved to see that she looked remarkably well. He hoped there had been no lasting damage from the curse that had nearly killed her.

Before he could make up his mind whether to go and extend a hearty welcome back to Bell himself, his view was eclipsed by the hulking forms of Baddock and Pritchard, the Slytherin Beaters. They were joined by Urquhart, Vaisey, and Draco. Even little Astoria Greengrass was there, his gaze flitting anxiously between each of her teammates before coming to rest on Harry.

"So, Potter…" said Urquhart, "What's the plan?"

"Plan?" Harry repeated stupidly. His mind was spinning with thoughts of Horcruxes and cursed objects, and for a wild moment, he thought Urquhart must know everything.

"For practice, Potter!" Urquhart said with exasperation. "We've got the match against Ravenclaw next week!"

After trouncing Gryffindor, Hufflepuff had narrowly lost to Ravenclaw in the last match. This was very good news for Slytherin, who still had a chance to win the inter-house cup. Harry had observed Ravenclaw's team during the match against Hufflepuff, and he was fairly confident in his own ability to outfly their Seeker, Cho Chang. But a victory for Slytherin did not necessarily guarantee the Cup. Quidditch was, after all, a game of numbers. If they beat Ravenclaw, but only by one hundred and fifty points, then they would win the game, but lose the Championship.

Harry knew this, and yet he had been so preoccupied by courting Slughorn's attention, keeping tabs on Goyle, and managing his schoolwork on top of everything else, he had nearly forgotten his responsibilities as team captain. He glanced sheepishly at Draco, hoping his vice-captain had him covered, but Draco was deep in conversation with Millie and Nell, trying to explain the complicated formula that would result in a victory for Slytherin.

"The Ravenclaws excel in strategy," said a quiet voice. It came from Greengrass, who looked surprised at herself for daring to speak up in front of her older teammates. Seeing that no one was prepared to reprimand her, however, she straightened her shoulders, and continued with more confidence, "But they're weak as individual players. If Graham and Malcom can disrupt their Chasers enough to break up their plays…"

The pressure of having so many eyes on her became too much. Her face turned red, and she fell silent before she could finish, though Harry understood the directions of her thoughts.

"Right, so we'll focus on plays that prioritize our defense," said Harry, his mind working quickly based on Greengrass's suggestion, "If we can keep them from scoring, all I need to do is catch the snitch when we're far enough ahead."

"What about their Keeper?" asked Vaisey, "I'm sure I can get past her, but wouldn't it be better if Baddock or Pritchard took her out first so we could…"

"We'll discuss it at practice tonight," Harry interrupted. He had just spotted Hermione, finally making her way toward their table. He waved away his team, instructing them to be on the pitch an hour before dinner. Only Draco remained after the rest of the players were dismissed, no doubt just as curious to hear the update concerning Katie Bell.

"Well, she definitely remembers going into the Three Broomsticks," Hermione advised as she and Neville took their seats at the Slytherin table. "But she says she doesn't remember anything after going to use the lavatory. When she woke up at St. Mungo's, it was the first she knew of anything going wrong."

"We know Goyle was in detention that day," said Harry. "But he could have ordered Crabbe or Pansy to plant the necklace on someone. Maybe they used the Imperius Curse?"

"Have you had any luck with either of them?" Millie asked Draco, who frowned.

"No… I thought it'd be easier to get Pansy to warm up to me. She never really cared for Goyle in the first place. But she claims she doesn't know what he and Crabbe are up to, and… Well, she said she wouldn't tell me if she did."

"I don't think I've seen her name on the map…" Harry reflected after a moment, "It's always been Crabbe, hanging about in the hall. So she's probably telling the truth… At least about not knowing what Goyle's doing in the Room of Requirement."

"Sorry, Harry…" said Draco. "I really thought I'd have more information for you…"

Harry reassured him that it wasn't his fault. They knew getting into the Room of Requirement while Goyle was there would be nearly impossible. But Draco continued to seem down and distracted that day, even during practice. The rest of the team was flying in top form, and Harry was actually starting to get excited about their upcoming match again. Only Draco was not in peak condition.

"What's up with you?" Harry asked, pulling him aside after he had dismissed the rest of their team. "You're not still thinking about Goyle, are you?"

"No, it's not that," said Draco. Harry couldn't tell if he was embarrassed, or if his cheeks were merely chapped from the wind. "It's just… I've been thinking about Ginny and me..."

The last thing Harry wanted to do was discuss Draco's love life, but he also didn't want their shot at the Quidditch Cup marred by Draco's mood. Steeling himself against whatever cringeworthy disclosures might follow, he cautiously asked, "Been going through a rough patch?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that," Draco said quickly, shouldering his broomstick as he and Harry made their way slowly toward their locker room. "Ginny's been… Well, wonderful actually… It's just the secrecy with Ron…"

"So why not tell him?"

"Sorry, weren't you the one who told me I shouldn't tell him?"

"That was before our match against Gryffindor! It shouldn't matter if you tell him now."

Draco rolled his eyes and said gruffly, "That's easy for you to say! But Ron… He's been a good friend to me ever since… And his mum's been so welcoming… I feel like I'm betraying him, somehow…"

"Surely he won't be that upset that you're dating his sister? I mean, better a friend than some random guy, right?"

Draco vehemently shook his head. "You haven't heard the way he talks! He's like, weirdly protective over Ginny. LIke, the other day, Seamus complemented her on her hair. Just her hair! And Ron really laid into him… And Seamus has been his friend longer than I have!"

"Because she's his only sister?" Harry suggested.

"Maybe… And she's a year younger than us, too… No, I just can't think of anything I could say that's not going to make him angry…"

"Well, you've waited this long. I suppose there'll be plenty of time to tell him after the match!" said Harry, clapping Draco on the back hard enough to make him stumble.

Draco frowned. "Wait a minute… Now you're telling me not to tell him?"

"Well, yeah. I can't have Ron hexing you a few days before we face Ravenclaw. Where would I find another Chaser last minute?"

Draco sighed. "Your sympathy is appreciated, Harry."

Since obtaining Slughorn's memory, Harry had one less task hanging over his head. Though nightly practices with the Slytherin team had taken much of his time, Quidditch was, and had always been, a welcome reprieve from the pressures of being "The Boy Who Lived." Though he still spent several hours every day thinking of Horcruxes and where they might be hidden, he was confident that Dumbledore would let him know when one had been found. He felt, if anything, oddly relaxed, as though he had been holding his breath, and could now exhale. There was a storm coming, he knew, but for now, he could enjoy a moment of calm.

Or so he thought. Thursday afternoon, two days before their Quidditch match, Harry found himself checking the Map. By now, had become little more than a habit. But when he opened the parchment and idly scanned the seventh floor corridor, he saw something odd.

There was Crabbe, standing outside the hidden entrance to the Room of Requirement. Goyle's name was listed right next to him. Harry wondered what they could be doing. Was Goyle about to let Crabbe in on his secret, at last? Then he noticed a third name, standing in the same corridor: Draco Malfoy.

Harry didn't have to think. He bolted out of the common room, sprinting through the halls, taking a few hidden passages he knew from his study of the map. It took him only minutes to race to the seventh floor, where he found his fears confirmed. Draco was currently engaged in a two-on-one duel with his former friends. He must have been tailing Goyle when he was discovered.

"... couldn't just leave us alone, could you?" Goyle was bellowing as a poorly aimed spell blasted past Draco's ear, striking a column behind him. "Can't stand the fact that we don't need you anymore?"

"It was always Malfoy this and Malfoy that with you!" added Crabbe, taking cover behind a nearby statue as Draco used a shield charm to protect himself from Goyle's next assault. "Where's all that family pride gotten you, Draco? Disowned by your family! Your father in disgrace!"

He managed to land a leg-locker curse on Draco, who fell painfully to the ground, his wand falling from his grasp as his hands shot out to break his fall.

Goyle, sensing an opportunity, sneered as he pointed his wand at Draco's prone body.

" Cruci… " he began.

Harry reacted instantly. With his wand already drawn and pointed at Goyle, he screamed the first spell that came to his mind. The one he had seen marked in his potions textbook.

Sectumsempra - for enemies.

Before Goyle could finish uttering his foul curse, Harry's spell hit him. Blood burst from his face and chest, gushing as though he had been slashed by an invisible sword. Harry froze in horror as Goyle dropped to the ground. He didn't utter a sound, but Crabbe let out a scream, jumping back as he realized he had been splattered by his friend's blood.

The scream broke Harry out of his frozen fear. He darted forward, having the presence of mind to release Draco from the jinx that held him in place as he knelt next to Goyle. His adversary was clawing at his own chest, a horrible, gurgling sound escaping his throat. It seemed he was unable to speak, but he glared at Harry, even as his face became drenched in the blood bubbling from his mouth.

"What did you do? What did you do?" Crabbe screamed over and over again. He pointed a trembling wand at Harry, but Draco had recovered his own.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted. Crabbe, disarmed, took off down the hall, disappearing around the corner out of sight.

Draco didn't bother to run after him. He joined Harry beside Goyle, heedless of the blood that soaked his robes as he knelt in the growing puddle on the ground.

"Harry? Harry, what's the counter-curse?"

"I don't know… I don't know!" Harry said, pressing his palms into a particularly nasty gash on Goyle's chest frantically, as though he could stop the torrent of blood issuing from the wound. "I didn't… I didn't know what it would do!"

Goyle's eyes were still open, but his breathing was more erratic, his gaze unfocused. He seemed to be dying.

Crouched in the hall, listening to Goyle's wet, gurgling breaths and steeped in his blood, it seemed like hours had passed. But it was mere moments before Crabbe suddenly returned, bringing a pale and hurried Snape with him.

"Move," he said sharply, practically shoving Harry out of the way as he knelt next to Goyle. His wand was already drawn. Harry watched, transfixed, as Snape traced the deep wounds gouging Goyle's skin, murmuring an incantation under his breath. The flow of blood seemed to cease. Snape repeated the spell a second time, and the severed flesh knit itself back together.

Harry, Draco, and Crabbe all watched silently. Harry could almost feel Crabbe's eyes upon him, burning with fury, but unwilling to attack while Snape was present. Harry didn't care what Crabbe thought. He was still watching Snape. While Goyle's immediate need demanded his attention, he could not spare a moment to reprimand Harry, but the anger that radiated from him in waves was palpable. Harry was petrified for what would come next.

Soon, Snape was able to pull Goyle into a standing position. His eyes still seemed foggy and his knees shook, as though he might collapse any moment.

"Crabbe, take his other arm," Snape said. "I'll need your help to get him to the hospital wing. There may be some scarring, but if we apply dittany immediately, we may be able to avoid even that…"

Snape's dark eyes flitted to Harry, though he seemed unwilling to look at him for long. Instead, his gaze found Draco, as he said in a low, dangerous voice, "Malfoy... Potter... The two of you will wait for me in my office."

They didn't dare to disobey. Harry and Draco immediately began walking toward the stairs, their steps leading them toward the dungeons. They passed other students in the halls, their bloodstained and pale faces drawing looks of horror and even a few shrieks. Neither of them said anything, however, until they were safely hidden from view beneath the castle. It was Draco who first broke the silence.

"Thanks for helping me."

Harry shook his head. He didn't feel like he deserved anyone's thanks at the moment. Instead, he asked, "What happened?"

"I… I saw Goyle and Crabbe heading toward the seventh floor. I knew they must be going to the Room of Requirement again, and I thought… Well, I thought I might figure out what Goyle was using it for. Maybe then we could get in ourselves… It was just bad luck that they spotted me. If you hadn't gotten there when you did…"

"Goyle wouldn't be in the hospital wing right now," said Harry firmly.

He knew Draco was watching his expression, but he kept his eyes forward.

They didn't wait long. Within minutes of arriving in Snape's office, the professor returned. His black robes hid whatever drops of blood had fallen on him after helping Goyle to the hospital wing, but he could not conceal the expression of anger on his face. He was livid.

While Harry braced himself for whatever punishment he was about to face, it was Draco who courageously stepped forward.

"Sir," he began before Snape could utter a word, "It wasn't Harry's fault! I was dueling Goyle and Crabbe before he arrived. He was only trying to…"

Snape silenced him with a look. Draco, cowed into silence, stepped back again, lowering his eyes to the floor. When Snape finally spoke, his voice was calm, even gentle. But Harry knew better. Behind that cool, even tone was a venomous serpent, waiting to strike.

"What I want to know," said Snape, "Is what the four of you were doing in that corridor in the first place?"

"It was my idea," Harry declared. He didn't like the way Draco tried to take the blame, and he wasn't about to let him try it a second time. "I asked Draco to keep an eye on Goyle."

"And why," Snape snapped, piercing Harry with a sharp glare, "would you want him to do that?"

"You know why," said Harry.

Draco glanced at him again, stunned. Harry couldn't blame him. His audacity after the scene they had just witnessed surprised even himself. But this was nothing compared to Snape's reaction. The professor was often churlish, rude, even insulting at times, but he rarely raised his voice. But now, he shouted, his voice reverberating off the stone walls of his office, "That is not your concern, Potter!"

The boys flinched. Draco stared at the ground again, and even Harry was finding it hard to confront Snape's glare. The professor passed a hand over his face, taking a moment to collect himself, before he added, "I ought to give you both detention every Saturday for the rest of term."

"You can't!" said Draco, his head snapping up with alarm. At the same moment, Harry protested, "But what about Quidditch?"

"You think I give a damn about Quidditch?!" Snape retorted. He was shouting again.

They were silenced. Snape allowed them to stew in their own thoughts a moment longer. Perhaps he wanted to prolong their discomfort before passing his sentence, or perhaps he was simply struggling to regain his composure. Eventually, he broke the tension, stating in a flat voice, "As it was not you, Malfoy, who used the spell, I will let you off easy. Fifty points will be taken from Slytherin for illegal dueling."

It was a heavy blow to Slytherin's house points, but all things considered, was a fairly light punishment. Draco looked up again in astonishment, amazed that he was being let off with little more than a reprimand.

"You may go," said Snape.

The look of relief on Draco's face was replaced with anxiety as he turned to look at Harry. If he were getting let off easily, then it could only mean that Harry would bear the brunt of Snape's punishment. Draco seemed irresolute for a moment, almost as if he were prepared to argue for Harry once more. But Harry shook his head very slightly and mouthed the words, "Just go."

Draco did not wait to be reprimanded by Snape again. With one last, pitying glance at Harry, he disappeared through the office door, allowing it to shut heavily behind him.

Harry could no longer meet Snape's dark gaze. It was easier to look around the now familiar office at the various pickled potions ingredients on the shelves that lined the walls. Snape had fallen silent again, and Harry was sure that this time, he was merely considering what horrible punishment would be appropriate for Harry's crime. Detention, for starters. And removing Harry as Captain of the Quidditch team, of course. Or, and this seemed entirely possible, expulsion from Hogwarts itself...

"I suppose I bear some responsibility," said Snape at last, to Harry's complete and utter shock, "I should have taken that book away from you the moment you mentioned that spell."

"Then you knew?" Harry asked, "When you wrote it down… You knew what the spell did to people?"

"Of course," Snape replied with a sneer, "I invented it."

"You? But why? A spell like that…"

"I'm not proud, Potter. Perhaps now you see why your mother distrusted my interest in the Dark Arts. Why your father and I were enemies almost from the moment of meeting. The more I felt ostracized, the more I turned to my studies. I was powerless, and wanted to feel powerful… And now you, through my negligence, have used a spell that never should have existed…"

"I didn't know what it would do," said Harry with genuine remorse. He hated Goyle with a passion. He wanted to see him punished for what he had done to Katie Bell, to Blaise… But he didn't want to seriously hurt him. "I'm sorry I used the spell. I should have just disarmed him... But I'm not going to apologize for defending Draco. Goyle was about to use an Unforgivable Curse… I couldn't allow that. I won't."

"... Be that as it may," said Snape after a pause. His voice was calm again, though less chilly than before. "I can do no less than deduct another fifty points for your involvement in this, Potter. And, naturally, Professor Dumbledore will be advised of the situation. You are to hand over the copy of Advanced Potion Making in your possession immediately. As for your detentions…"

Harry felt his heart sink. Their final game against Ravenclaw was scheduled that very Saturday. He knew begging would be futile, but if he could just convince Snape to wait, even just one week…

"... you begin on Friday evening."

Harry stared. Snape must have made a mistake. Surely he didn't intend to allow Harry to continue with Quidditch?

Snape must have seen the look of surprise on Harry's face, for he smirked. "Don't say anything. Don't try to thank me. Just get out of my sight before I change my mind."

Harry had opened his mouth, but now he closed it again. Not wanting to test his luck, he practically ran from the office, heading straight to the common room, where he was sure of finding Draco. He would have to tell him that he would be running their practice Friday night. As for Snape, in spite of everything, Harry found himself smiling. The professor was going soft.

The team was not pleased to hear that their Captain would be absent from practice the day before the final match of the year, but that stress was forgotten when Harry awoke Saturday morning. They could not have asked for better conditions. The sky was a brilliant blue. Not a cloud dotted its wide expanse. A light breeze stirred the grass as they made their way down toward the pitch, though the wind would not be strong enough to push them around while airborne.

When Snape had spoken to him during his detention, he acted as though Quidditch no longer mattered. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, he was right. But for Harry, Quidditch remained the only aspect of his life not tied to the prophecy. On the back of a broomstick, he was no longer the Chosen One. In the air, he didn't have to think about Goyle, still recovering in the hospital wing, or of Voldemort, plotting his demise, or of the three remaining horcruxes he still had to destroy. During the match, he needed to focus only on catching the Snitch, and leading his team to victory.

"And here's the Slytherin team, captained by Harry Potter, of course," called an airy voice over the mingled cheers and boos of the crowd as they stepped onto the field. "I think everyone must know who he is... But you know, I think few people have a chance to know him personally, and he's actually quite nice. Though I have it on very good authority that he's a dreadful dancer. Ah well, we can't expect perfection in everybody..."

Harry grinned. Some of his nerves dissipated as he listened to the soothing sound of Luna Lovegood's voice, though she was deprecating his dance skills. Harry was surprised McGonagall let her do the commentary for today's game, being a Ravenclaw herself, though if anyone were capable of being impartial, he assumed it was Luna.

"Then there's Caihong Chang, who was dating Cedric Diggory last year. I saw her snogging Roger Davies in the common room the other day, so I suppose she's moved on, now Diggory's graduated..."

"Lovegood!"

"Oh, sorry, Professor... Yes, I remember what you said. Just Quidditch, right..."

"Is that true?" Harry asked as he approached Chang, prepared to shake hands before the start of the match.

She gave him a wry smile. "About me and Roger?"

"No, your first name," said Harry.

Chang rolled her eyes, "You thought my name was Cho Chang? Potter, please... Cho is just a nickname."

She took Harry's hand and gave it a firm shake under Madam Hooch's watchful eye. Soon, the two teams launched into the air, one robed in blue, the other in green. Harry stayed low while the rest of his team shot far above his head, the contest for the Quaffle fast and quick. It was all Luna could do to keep up, though in fairness, she wasn't really trying.

"And now Greengrass has got the Quaffle… Or no, she just lost it… Anyway, Greengrass is the youngest member on the Slytherin… Well, on any team at the moment, which is quite impressive, that last fumble excepted, of course…"

While Luna had been discussing Greengrass's contributions to the team, Draco had recovered the Quaffle and scored the first point for Slytherin. Harry pumped his fist into the air as the Quaffle was passed to the players in blue, who raced it down the pitch, only to have their formation disrupted by a well-aimed Bludger from Baddock. It was just as they had planned. If they focused on their defense and slowly widen the gap in their points, then all Harry needed to do was keep a low profile and capture the Sntich when they had a firm lead.

Or so he thought. While he squinted against the sun, one eye bent on locating the Snitch while the other watched the progress of his team, he quickly realized that he was being tailed. Chang was just behind him, easily keeping pace with his low, leisurely circles.

Harry understood her strategy instantly. She was making sure he didn't spot the Snitch before she did, trusting that if she kept him close, her Comet stood a fair chance against his Nimbus 2000 for a short distance.

She would have to be more clever than that. If she wanted to tail him, they were going to put on a show.

Harry banked sharply to the right, swerving just over the heads of the cheering crowd before shooting high into the air, only to come dipping back down when Chang attempted to follow. Then he was up again, performing a wide loop, then a barrel roll. He wasn't trying to shake her, but he did want to keep her distracted. After all, if she was following him, then she wasn't looking for the Snitch.

They continued this dance, Harry weaving in and out of the other players, helping to disrupt their plays even as he tried to distract his tail. Chang was quick, however. She had no problem copying Harry's tight turns and death-defying plunges toward the ground. Harry had to admit, he was mildly impressed, but he was also growing worried. While the gap in the scores gradually and steadily grew, he still hadn't caught even a glimpse of the Snitch.

Finally, he saw it, fluttering high above his head, its golden orb reflecting the sun's rays. But it was no good. Luna, at McGonagall's insistence, had just announced the current score. If he caught the orb now, they would win the game, but lose the tournament.

These thoughts flashed across his mind in an instant, and without hesitation, he plunged toward the ground, praying that Chang hadn't noticed the Snitch herself, and would follow him.

The feint worked. Chang had directed her own broom downward, streaking toward the ground after Harry, certain that this quick dive meant he had spotted the Snitch. It was only after Harry leisurely pulled out of the dive, and Chang noticed the outraged cries of some of the quick-sighted crowd, that she knew what he had done.

"Nice one, Potter!" she called with a smile, though there was a rueful tone in her voice.

Harry directed her a cheeky wave, then streaked upward once more. Chang was not easily discouraged. She still followed after him, dogging his every move. Harry was growing more nervous. She wasn't going to fall for the same stunt again.

Worse still, she broke away from Harry abruptly, streaking toward the other end of the pitch, toward the Slytherin goalposts. Harry thought she was merely trying to fake him out, as he had done to her, but he was wrong. She broke away because she, too, had located the Snitch, now circling near the base of one of the goalposts.

Harry turned sharply and sped after her. He could try to cut her off. It might mean a foul for their team, but if they could just prolong the match. He pressed his body firmly against the broomstick, making himself as flat as possible as he gained ever greater speed. He was neck and neck with Chang, both of them with arms outstretched, fingers grasping. Harry willed himself to go even faster, but he knew he couldn't check Chang's progress. It was now or never.

Without warning, as if sensing the approach of its pursuers, the Snitch flitted upward. Chang went to correct her dive. Harry was faster. Both hands released his broomstick as he reached above his head, grasping the struggling snitch in both hands as it tried to pass over him.

For a moment, only the sound of Harry's heartbeat could be heard in his ears. Then came the roar of the crowd below, the frantic waving of green and silver banners flashing through the air. His team had descended upon him, their bodies and broomsticks crashing together in midair as they all fought to hug their captain.

"We won! We won!" screamed out Astoria Greengrass's delighted voice.

"We've done it, Harry!" boomed Urquhart, who for some reason had a bloody nose.

"What's the score? What's the score?" Harry asked frantically, turning his head in all directions. True, by catching the Snitch they had won the match, but the tournament…

"What an amazing catch by Harry Potter!" shouted Luna's voice over the noise of the crowd. She sounded more excited than Harry had ever heard her before. She didn't even seem to care that her own house had lost as she announced, "Slytherin wins! They've won the Cup!"

And sure enough, from the stands, beside the podium where Luna and Professor McGonagall stood, there rose Professor Dumbledore, clutching the silver Cup between both hands. Students from all four houses rushed the field as Harry and his team landed before the faculty, Harry fighting to appear somewhat dignified as he accepted the trophy on behalf of his team. Even Snape was there, doing a much better job at looking detached, though when he met Harry's eye, he smiled. Harry couldn't make out his words over the incessant cheering of the crowd, but he thought he read in the movement of his lips, "Well done."

Harry turned back to the celebrating students and his own delighted team, raising the cup over his head to a crescendo of cheers. He didn't need to invite the rest of his team to join him at the podium. They had swarmed him in a moment, all eager to grasp a part of the trophy themselves, laughing all the while. Harry noticed Draco close by his elbow at the exact moment that the crowd parted, and Ginny Weasley rushed forward. She threw herself into Draco's arms, while he, elated by their victory, returned the embrace. Heedless of the eyes upon them, forgetting in the excitement of the moment that their relationship was supposed to be a secret, they kissed.

Harry, embarrassed to be witnessing this scene a second time, quickly averted his eyes, only to spy Ron Weasley. Harry could only assume that he had been coming to congratulate his friend, but the expression of joy on his face quickly vanished when he saw that same friend snogging his little sister. The secret was out at last, and Ron did not look pleased.