Next chapter, ready to go! I haven't updated this quickly or regularly since I started writing on some seventeen years ago.
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The next morning, Madam Pomfrey advised Harry to take his breakfast in the hospital wing before heading back up to Gryffindor Tower. She seemed to think it might cause a scene if he were to appear in there after the events of the previous evening. For once, Harry was inclined to agree with her. When he did arrive up at the common room, a number of students had already left for class, but there were enough still milling about to make things extremely awkward when he came in through the portrait hole.
As though they'd set a lookout to wait for him, everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him, watching him as though they were afraid he might explode at any second. Even accustomed as he was to such attention, it was a little unnerving.
'All right, that's enough, get on with your business,' boomed a pompous voice from over by the staircases. Harry turned to see Percy striding purposefully toward him. 'He's had enough to deal with without you all making him feel like some kind of contagious hobgoblin.' Harry had rarely ever been pleased to see Percy, but he had to admit this was one of those times.
'Over this way, Harry,' said Percy, laying his hands on Harry's shoulders and steering him away from everyone's stares. 'Ron and your other friends have been asking McGonagall about you all last night and all morning, but she hasn't revealed much. They'll be pleased to see you.'
'Thanks, Percy,' Harry said, and meant it.
'Not at all, Harry,' said Percy pompously. 'You were the biggest victim last night; anyone could see that. It's up to your housemates to ensure you don't suffer even more for it after the fact. We need to stand together in times of adversity, after all.' Harry at first thought that was a bit rich coming from the boy who had abandoned his family to serve his own political career, but he immediately felt ashamed for thinking it; he'd forgiven Percy long ago.
'I appreciate it,' he said. Maybe if Percy could be made to feel like less of an outsider among the people who cared most about him, such a fate could be avoided altogether this time around.
Percy looked pleased, and after he brought Harry over to the bay window where Ron was sitting with all of the other first year Gryffindors, he left to go tell off a couple of boys who were still gawking.
'Harry!' Hermione yelped, hugging him. To his surprise, Lavender and Parvati did the same when she released him. All seven of his year-mates had looks of immense relief painted on their faces.
'We thought you were a goner, mate,' Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder and gripping hard. 'First you started frothing at the mouth having some kind of fit, then you and Quirrell started screaming your heads off and it smelled like burning rubbish. What happened?'
'Didn't Dumbledore tell you?' Harry asked. 'He said he was going to.'
'He told us a few things,' Dean confirmed. 'He said Quirrell had been possessed by You-Know-Who, and that's why he couldn't touch you.'
'And he said you'd been poisoned,' Neville put in.
'That one's true,' Harry said. 'There was poison in my pumpkin juice. It probably would have killed me if I hadn't had a bezoar in my pocket.' Lavender and Parvati gasped, and Hermione, though also sounding concerned, looked quizzical.
'Why did you?' she asked. 'Have a bezoar, I mean? Not that I'm not thrilled you did, of course.'
'Just luck,' Harry lied smoothly. Unlike Dumbledore and Voldemort (and, he reminded himself, probably Snape as well), he didn't have to be careful about what he said. 'I bought it on a lark when I was in Diagon Alley. Completely forgot about it until I felt it in my pocket.'
Seamus whistled. 'That is the luckiest thing I've ever heard,' he said. Ron and Dean nodded in agreement.
'What about You-Know-Who?' Ron asked. 'Was he really possessing Quirrell?'
'That's what Dumbledore told me,' Harry said. 'It sort of makes sense, I suppose. I mean, he tried to kill me and failed once before, right? That makes more sense than Quirrell just randomly not being able to touch me.'
'I think it's real,' Lavender said shakily. 'Didn't you all see what was under his turban?' A collective shudder ran through the group, and Neville and Parvati winced as if they didn't want to remember it.
'What?' Harry asked, feigning ignorance.
'There was...a face,' Lavender explained, though she looked like she'd rather not recall it either. 'On...on the back of his head. Only it didn't look like a normal face.'
'Come on, Lavender,' Seamus began, but she shouted back before he could say any more.
'Don't pretend like you didn't see it, Seamus! Practically everyone in the Great Hall saw it! Acting like you didn't isn't going to make it not real!'
'It was there, all right,' Ron came to his one-time/future girlfriend's defense. 'And it was awful. Like a snake or a vampire or something.'
'Red eyes,' said Neville quietly, his arms wrapped around his knees. He was almost whispering, and he was looking into the distance as if seeing it again.
'And really pale,' Dean added. 'Like a skull or something. And it didn't have a nose.'
'Everyone saw this?' Harry asked. This was something that for all his planning, he'd failed to consider. Sure, he and Ginny had wanted a few people (mostly the staff) to see, but this was likely to cause at least a minor panic among the student body.
'Most people,' Hermione said. 'Some people were probably too far away, and some might not have had a clear view, but everyone's at least heard of it by now.'
'Dumbledore didn't tell me about that part,' Harry said. He didn't actually know if that was true or not. Without meaning to, he'd sort of zoned out once or twice during the headmaster's explanations of things he already knew. 'He did say that Voldemort got away, though, and left Quirrell to die.' A collective flinch had accompanied his use of Tom Riddle's chosen name. He sighed inwardly. That was something he'd have to get used to again. Most people in his own time had long since gotten over that ridiculous taboo.
'Don't say the name!' Ron chided. Harry resisted rolling his eyes. He could have that argument another time.
'Quirrell is dead?' Parvati asked, once she'd recovered from her shock.
'Apparently,' said Harry. 'I don't know if it was from the burns or from Voldemort leaving his body or both, though.'
Everyone started again, and Ron threw him a dirty look. 'Would you stop saying the name?' So much for having that argument later.
'Or what? He's going to burst in through the window at us?' he replied impatiently. Neville cast a frightened glance out the window.
'No,' said Ron crossly. 'It just...it feels wrong, okay?'
'Dumbledore says fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself,' Harry said. Dumbledore had never actually said those words to him in this timeline, but they carried more weight with his name behind them than if Harry pretended he'd come up with them himself.
'Yeah, well he's Dumbledore, isn't he?' Ron grumbled. Hermione actually looked like she was considering what he'd said, though.
'Oh, come on,' said Harry. 'I will buy a full box of chocolate frogs for the first person here to say Voldemort's name.'
'Not worth it,' Seamus said, shaking his head. Now Dean looked to be contemplating this too, though. Harry supposed it made sense that the two to not have been raised in wizarding society would have the superstition least ingrained in them.
'Does it have to be chocolate frogs?' Lavender asked tentatively. Parvati looked scandalized, Hermione vaguely impressed, and the rest gaped at her in disbelief.
'Lavender! You can't be serious!' Parvati said.
'I'm not saying I will; I'm just curious,' she clarified. Inwardly, Harry was beaming with pride. There was his partner. Evidently the war had been less of a factor in her adult persona than he'd thought. If he ever saw her again – his Lavender, that was – he'd have to apologize for never giving her enough credit when they were in school.
'No, it doesn't have to be chocolate frogs,' Harry said, grinning. 'Anyone who wants to say "Voldemort" can name their prize.' Once more a collective flinch made its way around the group. Harry decided to wind them up a bit more. 'Double points for calling him "Moldy Voldy",' he said, taking a line from one of Peeves's favorite songs from after the war. At this there was more than simple flinching. Seamus practically choked, which was impressive as he had been neither drinking nor eating anything. Parvati clapped her hands to her mouth, and Ron looked like he couldn't decide if he wanted to be amused or annoyed. Dean laughed outright, and even Neville managed a ghost of a smile.
'Blimey, Harry,' said Ron finally. 'I dunno what sort of death wish you've got, but leave us out of it.'
'I don't know,' said Hermione. 'Maybe Harry's right. I mean, what Dumbledore said about fear of a name, that sort of makes sense.'
'Perfectly sensible thing to be afraid of if you ask me,' Ron argued back.
It looked like there was going to be more, but Harry interjected. 'All right, I didn't mean to start an argument,' he said. 'You don't have to say it if you don't want to, Ron, but I'm not going to stop.'
'I would have thought you, of all people...'
Harry shook his head. 'I'm more angry at him than afraid of him,' he said truthfully. 'But that's not the point. Anyway, thanks, everyone, for waiting for me. Sorry the feast got cut short.'
'As if we cared about that!' Hermione exclaimed. 'We're all just happy you're okay.' The rest of them nodded.
'I'll need to write Mum and Dad to tell them you're all right,' Ron said. He was clearly delighted to drop the subject of Voldemort's name. 'The school sent owls to all the parents last night telling them what happened, and I got a frantic letter this morning demanding to know if I was okay, even though they already knew I was.' He shook his head in exasperation at his mother's fussing. 'Fred and George got one too, and Percy. Reckon that's why he was so eager to help you, Harry. Mum was just as worried about you as the rest of us. Ginny – that's my little sister – was practically hysterical, she says.'
All the color drained from Harry's face.
'Sh-she was?'
'Yeah,' Ron confirmed, nodding. Harry was relieved to see that Ron hadn't noticed the change in his demeanor, but in truth that meant very little; if Hermione hadn't noticed, he'd eat his wand.
'I guess she thought You-Know-Who attacked the school or something. I'm not sure, to be honest, Mum didn't go into detail. But she was terrified you'd been killed. Always been a big fan of yours, Ginny has.'
'You don't say,' said Harry vaguely. He'd barely been able to follow Ron's story. How could he have forgotten about Ginny? Of course she'd be in a state of panic. They'd talked to each other via the mirrors every night since he'd bought them, and then on the day she knew he was going to be confronting Quirrell and Voldemort, she hadn't heard from him. Worse, he bet she'd been up all night saying his name into her mirror and getting no reply. He couldn't imagine the turmoil she was going through. He knew he had to end this discussion and get up to his bed as soon as humanly possible, but how to do it without being even more suspicious than he already was?
'Oh, yeah,' Ron went on, oblivious. 'She used to imagine she was going to marry you some day. We'd always take the mickey out of her for it.'
'That's not very nice,' Parvati butted in. Hermione usually would have, but she was busy looking askance at Harry's continued discomfort.
'You're only saying that because you haven't met her,' said Ron. 'Trust me, she can give as good as she gets.'
'Hey, what time is it?' Dean suddenly asked, looking at his wristwatch. He swore. 'We're going to be late.'
'I'm sure Professor Sprout will understand, after last night,' Lavender said.
'I'm actually shocked they haven't canceled classes today,' said Parvati.
'They'll want to keep things as normal as possible, I expect,' Ron said sagely. 'Keep us all from panicking.'
'Well they pantsed that,' said Seamus with a smirk. 'Look at Hermione!'
'Shut up!' Hermione wailed. She was clutching her hair and dancing from foot to foot as if she really had to use the bathroom. 'I've never been late to a class before, ever!'
'Calm down, Hermione,' said Ron. 'If we leave right now we can still make it.'
'Oh, but...what about Harry?' she asked, looking his way. This was the chance he needed.
'You lot go ahead; I'll catch up. I need to go upstairs and change and everything anyway. Let Sprout know I'm coming, will you?'
There was a token protest, but given how little time they had, it wasn't difficult for Harry to convince them to leave without him. The second the portrait swung shut behind them, he dashed up the stairs three at a time to his dormitory. As soon as he got there, he dove under his pillow for the mirror and practically yelled Ginny's name into it.
He expected to have to try a few times, but when she answered almost immediately, Harry knew he was in trouble.
'Oh, so you finally thought to let me know you're alive, did you?' she snarled. Her hair was a mess, and there were bags under her eyes indicating she hadn't slept. Her voice was also slightly hoarse, as if she'd been saying his name into a mirror for hours on end.
'Ginny, I –'
'You can explain, I'm sure,' she interrupted. 'Let me just tell you what my night was like first, why don't I?' Harry gulped. But he knew there was nothing for it but to let her get on with it. If he tried to defend himself before she'd said her piece, it would only be worse for him.
'There I was, waiting to hear how you'd handled Quirrell. Our usual time came and went, but I reckoned that there might be a bit of a commotion and it was holding you up. Then it was midnight. Then one in the morning. Can you imagine that I was getting a little bit worried by that point?'
'I...'
'No, surely not, because that's when I started calling your name into the mirror every two minutes. All I could think about was watching Hagrid carry you out of the woods, and how this time I wasn't even there.'
A cold hand gripped Harry's heart and wouldn't let go. Of course her mind would go straight to that morning. He wanted to say something, make her feel better, but he couldn't. It was torturous.
'Then mum and dad get a letter from Hogwarts. The owl woke them up at half past two. Apparently one of the professors had been a servant of Voldemort, and had attacked a student. Fancy that! It didn't say who, of course, just that it wasn't anyone in our family and that everyone was all right. Mum and Dad guessed it might be you, which is lucky since I was already hysterical by that point and they assumed it was their fault. They spent the next hour trying to convince me that no, it couldn't have been Harry Potter, they were sure he was fine. I shouldn't worry, and they were sorry for even putting the idea in my head.
'After they left, I tried you in the mirror again. After all, everyone was all right, so you should be able to answer now, right? Surely the first thing you'd want to do would be to tell me you were okay. Maybe you'd even tried calling while I was waiting for Mum and Dad to leave and go back to bed. But no, more nothing! The rest of the night, complete silence!'
It was almost unbearable to meet her eyes through this tirade, but to look away would be cowardly. He forced himself to hold her furious gaze.
'In the morning, Mum was sending letters to Ron and the others. I made her ask about you in every single one of them. Even Percy's! As if he'd know anything. I thought to myself, "Okay, maybe they were keeping him in the hospital wing and he couldn't get to his mirror. It's possible!" It was after breakfast now though; surely you'd be there. I called you again, and again, and again. I almost threw the mirror against the wall! Serve you right if I did; let you worry about me for a change. And now here you are, perfectly fine, and I'm a complete wreck, left alone to be driven mad with worry like always! Harry Potter, I swear, when I see you again, I...I...I don't know what I'll do! I either want to hex and strangle you or hug you and cry until I pass out.'
She took several deep, fuming breaths, indicating that she had at last run out of steam. Now was the time to explain, though if he didn't choose his words carefully, he risked upsetting her all over again.
'Ginny, I'm sorry,' he started. She looked ready to go off on him again so he quickly continued. 'Let me say what I need to say and then you can yell at me again if you want. I just had to say that first no matter what. I am sorry, for however much that's worth.'
She huffed and crossed her arms, frowning and looking away from him. Harry knew that was her way of saying she would at least listen to what he had to say.
'They did take me to the hospital wing, you were right about that,' he said. 'Even if it had occurred to me to sneak out, I couldn't have; holding on to Quirrell took a lot out of me. Dumbledore came and talked to me for a bit, and Madam Pomfrey kept me until after breakfast. You know what she's like.'
'Why didn't you contact me right after that, then?' she asked. The angry bite was gone from her voice; she'd worn herself out, and all that was left was hurt. If anything, that twisted the knife in Harry's gut even more.
'That's what I'm apologizing for. Somehow, I had it in my mind that I'd just talk to you tonight like always. I figured you knew they'd send me to the hospital wing, and we've never talked to each other during the day. When I got back to the common room, everyone wanted to talk about what happened. It really scared a lot of people, I think; we're going to have to deal with that at some point. But then Ron mentioned his letter from your mum, and...'
'And you remembered I existed?' She cut in, a bit of the ire returning.
'I could never forget about you!' Harry yelled, wounded. 'How could you even say that? What I meant was that I realized you had expected to hear from me. That sounds stupid now, but I honestly thought our plan was to just talk tonight. Maybe my head wasn't working right. A combination of being poisoned and fighting Voldemort back to back.'
'Wha...POISONED?' She was gaping at him, all signs of anger replaced by ones of shock.
'Didn't Dumbledore's letter mention that?'
'NO! What are you...who poisoned you?'
'Quirrell, of course,' said Harry warily. She was a hair's breadth from cracking; he never would have brought up the poison if he hadn't though she already knew about it. 'It was right before I got hold of him. It's what started the whole thing, in fact. I'm fine, I had a bezoar on me!' He rushed to say that last part, as she was showing signs of hyperventilating.
'You...you...' she panted, trying to catch her breath. 'You are not allowed to do anything dangerous for the rest of the year, do you hear me?' she said. 'I don't care if Voldemort himself shows up at the school and starts the war five years early; you let Dumbledore handle it. I can't take this, Harry, I really can't!'
'I know, I'm sorry. I really am. But after this, you won't have to, because you're coming here next year and we can handle everything together. It won't be like before; I'm not roping Ron and Hermione into all of this again. It'll be just you and me.'
'Don't you dare try to placate me with what you think I want to hear, Harry Potter,' she warned. 'I'm still waiting to hear you say you'll stay out of trouble for the rest of the year.'
'There's no more trouble to get in,' Harry said. 'Everything else that happened in first year – Hagrid's dragon, meeting Voldemort in the woods – none of it will happen now Quirrell's been dealt with. Riddle's gone back into hiding, and we're not likely to hear from him any time soon. The only thing...' he caught himself, but too late, for she had noticed.
'What only thing?' she asked.
'Well, it's not a huge problem,' he began. 'I mean, we can assume it's been taken care of, though obviously I'd much rather have confirmed it.'
'What are you talking about?' Ginny demanded, her patience obviously at its absolute limit.
'I don't know what's happened to the Philosopher's Stone,' Harry confessed, wincing. 'Last time, Dumbledore said it was destroyed, but that was after Quirrell had run his entire gauntlet trying to get it. This time, he didn't even get to make an attempt. I don't know if they'll still destroy it, and I can't ask because there's no reason I'd know about it, but I have to think they'd take the same steps as before.'
'Are you kidding me?' Ginny railed. 'This whole thing was about preventing Tom from getting the damn Stone, and we don't even know if it worked? Are you saying we essentially did such a good job that he might have another chance?'
'Er, I suppose that's the worst case scenario,' admitted Harry. Truth be told, he'd thought the same thing. The more he pondered it though, the more he thought he was worrying over nothing. Dumbledore and Flamel would surely know what Voldemort had been after and reach the same conclusions as before. The only part that bothered him was not knowing, which had always been a sticking point for him. He explained as much to Ginny, and while she agreed he was probably right, she was still not happy about the oversight.
'The best we'll be able to do is watch the obituaries for the Flamels,' she said finally. 'Merlin, that's morbid. How long afterwards did they live last time, do you know?'
'I have no idea. I remember Dumbledore telling me they had some elixir stashed away to get their affairs in order, but whether that took weeks or months or years I couldn't tell you.'
'Fantastic. Well, one more thing for us to worry about, then. I guess we won't have our answer until either Flamel dies or Voldemort comes back.'
A thought occurred to Harry that he had never considered before, but in retrospect seemed so obvious he wondered how he hadn't seen it.
'Would that be so bad?' he said.
Ginny looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. Understandable.
'No, I mean, he's got to come back anyway if I'm going to finish him off for good,' he elaborated. 'And if he uses the elixir then nobody has to die. We wanted to try and save Cedric; that's one way of doing it.'
'The easiest way to save Cedric is to make sure he doesn't go with you, if that even ends up happening again. It's still three years away, so there's no way to know. And besides, do you really want Voldemort coming back in a different way from what we're expecting? Things are getting unpredictable enough already if you ask me.'
'I suppose,' Harry said. 'Though I wouldn't mind avoiding that whole resurrection ritual altogether if I can manage it.'
'I know, love,' said Ginny. For the first time since he'd contacted her, she was looking at him and speaking to him without a trace of anger or irritation in her voice. 'I never want you to go through that again, either. I'd take your place if I could. But didn't you tell me that it was your blood in the ritual that kept you from dying in the Forbidden Forest? If a little bit of suffering keeps you alive in the long run, isn't it worth it?'
'Buggering hell, I'd forgotten about that,' Harry said, clapping his hand to his forehead. 'This is why I'm glad I have you with me. I'd never be able to keep all these details straight on my own. Overlooking minor things has always been Tom's weakness; I'd rather keep it that way.'
'I hope it's not the only reason you're glad I'm here,' she said, arching her eyebrow.
'Of course it isn't,' Harry said. 'But if you're willing to tease me, does that mean you forgive me?'
She let out a long sigh. 'I suppose it does. I really shouldn't – you put me through hell last night, you know – but I know you weren't exactly having the best time of it either. Just as long as you never let it happen again.'
'Never,' Harry promised immediately. 'If for whatever reason I think I won't be able to talk to you, I'll let you know the night before so you won't have to worry. Not that I think anything's going to come up, except maybe a Quidditch injury.'
'If I don't hear from you the night after a match, I'll assume that's what happened,' she replied. 'Otherwise, I'm likely to go into panic mode. I can't help it.'
'After everything we've been through, that makes sense. I'm so sorry you had to relive all that again.'
'So you said, and I believe you. I already forgave you, remember? That means you need to stop beating yourself up over it. I know what you're like; you'd be upset about this far longer than me if I let you.'
Harry smiled. Then he remembered what time it was. 'Shite!' he exclaimed suddenly, causing Ginny to jump. 'I'm supposed to be in class!'
'What?'
'We were all running late! I pretended I had to come up here and get changed so I could talk to you. I was supposed to be in the greenhouse twenty minutes ago!'
'You really are reverting to your younger self if being late to class has you that bothered,' Ginny said, taking the mickey. 'All right, you can go. Tell them you couldn't find your socks or something. I'll talk to you again tonight.'
'Right, right. Socks,' Harry said distractedly. 'Love you.'
'Love you.' She vanished and he was left looking at his own reflection. At least that was one crisis dealt with; now he only need worry about how the school was going to take seeing Voldemort appear in the Great Hall on the back of a teacher's head. He'd really only seen a small taste so far. For now however, he had smaller concerns. He waved his wand and the clothes he was wearing traded places with a fresh set from his trunk. He didn't usually like changing clothes in this way – it nearly always made his pants ride up – but it was effective in a pinch. He grabbed his Herbology textbook and dashed down the stairs.
He was thirty-five minutes late, but the five points Professor Sprout took from him would likely have been more were it not for the circumstances of the previous evening.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
The next few days were some of the strangest Harry had ever experienced at Hogwarts, and that was saying something. Students had always heard about terrible things, but until the war was in full swing, most of them had never actually seen a Death Eater, much less Voldemort himself, and certainly not within the walls of the castle.
There was an air of trepidation bordering on panic that permeated every year of every house – even the Slytherins were looking a bit nervous. There was a lot of looking over shoulders, and nobody went to class in a group of less than three. It reminded him of his second year and the scare caused by the basilisk, or the brief period in his third year after Sirius had broken in and (supposedly) tried to kill Ron. The only difference was that this time, the students were taking extra precautions of their own volition rather than on the direction of the staff. More that one student had already been withdrawn by parents, and while none of the first years had yet been recalled home, they were all waiting for it every day.
'I'm surprised my mum hasn't pulled me out,' Hannah Abbot was saying on the way to their second Herbology class after the incident. 'It's exactly the sort of thing she'd do; when she wrote me it seemed like she might.'
'Our mum too,' Parvati said. 'She really freaked out. I thought she'd pull Padma and me out that first day.'
'I reckon Dumbledore's been talking to them a lot,' Ron said. 'Trying to reassure them, you know? Like they've been doing for us.'
It was true. Ever sense Quirrell's very public death, the staff had been putting on the ultimate air of normalcy, trying to keep the students calm. Just as the students were taking extra security measures into their own hands, the teachers had been making every effort to assure everyone that everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about.
One part of keeping up the appearance of normalcy was keeping the Quidditch season going. The first match of the new term was Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, and despite the aura of fear that Voldemort's appearance had stirred up, people couldn't help but get excited about it. If Gryffindor won, the house points they'd be awarded would put them ahead of Slytherin, and no one currently enrolled at Hogwarts had ever seen them lose the House Cup.
Harry, for his part, thought it somewhat funny that there had ever been a time when Slytherin had dominated the competition. Except for his fifth year, marred as it was by Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad, they had been soundly defeated every year following his first, which had of course been a narrow (and last-minute) Gryffindor victory.
Both Quidditch teams had, with no direction from the staff, taken on the responsibility of raising everyone's spirits, and so had been training hard in the weeks leading up to the match. A much more friendly rivalry than had ever existed with Slytherin sprang forth as a result, with players from both teams swapping good-natured ribbings in the corridors and at meals. When the last Saturday of January finally rolled around, feelings were running so high that it may as well have been the final match of the season.
Oliver's speech was brief but to the point: have fun, but make sure we win. The team congratulated him on his succinctness as they made their way out to the pitch and took their positions. It was a brisk crisp winter day; the sun was shining but there were enough clouds in the sky to make it more grey than blue. The air was cold and dry, but not freezing. It was the kind of weather that wakes you up without wearing you down. Almost perfect Quidditch conditions.
Harry remembered every Quidditch match he'd ever played in. With some he recalled more details than others, but it would be difficult to forget what had been only his second one ever. Snape had refereed (unbeknownst to Harry at the time, to protect him from Quirrell), and he had been determined to catch the snitch as quickly as possible so as to avoid too much unfair treatment from the Potions master. So determined had he been, he had actually set a new all-time Hogwarts record for fastest snitch catch at just under five minutes.
It had also been the only time during his entire Hogwarts career that Gryffindor had beaten Hufflepuff, which was so strange to think about that he actually replayed all their other match-ups in his mind to make sure he was remembering correctly.
There was little chance of things going as smoothly today. For one thing, Snape hadn't even come out to watch the match (though Dumbledore had), and Madam Hooch was handling referee duties as always. For another, even if he could duplicate his record feat, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He looked around the stands at the crowds of students waving their red or yellow banners, cheering and waving and having the time of their lives. This was the most carefree anyone at the school had been since the beginning of term; even if the snitch flew right in front of his face as soon as he took off, he didn't think he could bring himself to take all that away from them so soon.
Harry met the eyes of his Hufflepuff counterpart, a seventh-year boy named Gunther Harris whom he barely remembered, and he could tell they were thinking the same thing. He grinned, and Harris grinned back. This was going to be a fun match.
The whistle blew, and all fourteen players shot into the air. Harry cruised around for a bit, mostly enjoying the cool, clean January air. After a few minutes, Harris came up alongside him.
'You're not really looking for the snitch, are you?' he said.
'Not really,' Harry acknowledged. 'You?'
Harris shook his head. 'Everyone's having too much fun. It seems wrong to try to end it so early.'
'I was thinking the same thing.'
They made sure make a show of flying around; to the spectators it must look like they were marking each other to guard against an early snitch catch.
'That whole thing with Quirrell,' Harris said. 'Are you all right? Dumbledore and Sprout said it had something to do with You-Know-Who.'
'Yeah, I'm all right,' Harry assured him. 'It didn't really hurt,' he lied. 'It was more frightening than painful.'
'Understandable, considering. You're not worried he might come back?'
It was Harry's turn to shake his head. 'If Dumbledore were worried, I would be. He says V-...You-Know-Who is too weak to come back without someone else to possess, and they'll be on the lookout for that now.' He had almost said Voldemort's name until he realized that startling someone while they were flying a hundred feet in the air probably wasn't the safest idea.
'That makes sense. Still, you're pretty brave for a first-year.'
'Thanks,' said Harry, not sure how he felt about that comment. 'What do you say to a thirty minute truce? After that we can start actually looking for the snitch.'
'Sounds good,' Harris agreed. 'Exceptions if it flies right in front of you, or if your team is about to fall behind by more than a hundred and fifty.'
'That's fair.' They nodded at each other and flew off to opposite ends of the pitch. If he were playing anyone else (that he didn't know on a personal level), he might not have been so ready to trust his opponent to uphold the bargain, but if you couldn't trust a Hufflepuff, who could you trust? Really, he was more astounded that Harris was so ready and willing to trust him.
After about twenty minutes, Lee Jordan began opining that the seekers weren't doing their jobs, and what did they think this was, a leisurely family picnic? Harry and Harris started doing mock dives and silly stunts that made it look like they'd seen the snitch, just to keep people entertained.
'It looks like our seekers have taken my words to heart,' Lee said at roughly the thirty minute mark. 'They're both trying to bluff each other with feint after feint to no avail! It's gotten so bad that if one of them actually caught the snitch at this point, even Madam Hooch is likely not to notice!'
Harry laughed, but their agreed upon time limit was up. Now they were both free to look for the snitch in earnest. The score was 70-30 in favor of Gryffindor, so it was still anybody's match. He switched up his strategy from pretend feinting to an overhead loop of the match. This was a strategy he had worked out with Wood in his original first year, and it had always served him well. With his quick reflexes and superior broom and flying skills, the added difference this put him from the snitch didn't usually matter. Instead it allowed him to make use of his exceptionally attuned observational skills (even more so now he'd been through auror training) by granting him a view of the entire pitch at once. By circling high above the rest of the action, he was able to monitor the entire play area from a constantly shifting vantage point, thereby maximizing his chances of spotting the snitch.
Harris tried a few more feints – real ones now – but by checking to see where he was aiming, Harry was able to determine there was no snitch and thus avoid falling for them. After his third such attempt, Harris abandoned this tactic and reverted to flying through the match proper in an active hunting pattern. It put him in closer, thereby giving him an advantage if he spotted the little golden ball, but it severely limited the area of the pitch that he could search at any one time.
The match went on for nearly another half hour in this manner. The score was still relatively close, now at 110-60 for Gryffindor. Not much exciting had happened lately though, so Harry decided he'd spice things up a bit. He fixed himself on a spot of grass underneath him and dove. He was in a near vertical dive, concentrating with all his being as though he'd seen the snitch, and was racing to catch it before his opponent. The reaction from Lee and the crowd was enough for him to know that his ruse had worked. Evidently it had been long enough since their feint game for Harris to have forgotten about it, or else he didn't expect a first-year to be able to execute a proper Wronski Feint.
As he neared the ground, he could see Harris barreling toward him at full speed, still unaware he'd been duped. Harry grinned; a fabulous idea had just struck him.
He didn't actually want Harris to crash, so he pulled up a little earlier than he otherwise might have. However, instead of flying off and revealing the trick, he peeled off to his left as though the snitch had taken an unexpected swerve and he was chasing after it. Sure enough, he felt the Hufflepuff seeker pull in right behind him, still convinced that Harry was hot on the tail of the snitch, or at the very least not willing to gamble that he wasn't.
Wondering how long he could keep this going, Harry maintained full speed as he dodged and weaved through the rest of the match, ducking bludgers and skirting around other players at almost dangerously close distances. All the while he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead (while in reality his eyes were darting all around, looking for a telltale glint of gold), giving the impression he was purposefully chasing something. He was careful to make sure Harris was still tailing him; it wouldn't do to attempt a feint on an opponent who wasn't buying it, but the Hufflepuff was still hooked. Harry took him from one end of the pitch to the other, up and down and around, in what would have to have been one of the longest snitch chases in living Hogwarts memory were it actually real. The crowd was going nuts. Lee's commentary revealed that even he wasn't actually sure whether Harry had truly seen the snitch or not.
Deciding he didn't want to wear himself out, Harry took one final dash toward the goalposts, then made a very sharp turn just as he was about to go out of bounds. Harris wasn't able to turn as quickly, and Madam Hooch's whistle blew, calling a penalty. Harry slowed down at once and hovered in place. He heard a great groan from the crowd.
'I don't believe it!' cried Lee's amplified voice. 'Either Potter has lost sight of the snitch, or we've just witnessed the most drawn-out feint of all time! Absolutely no pity from this first-year seeker phenom!'
'Did you really see it?' Harris asked, flying over to him as Alicia lined herself up to take the penalty.
'No,' said Harry, unable to keep himself from grinning.
Harris squinted and exhaled loudly through his nose. 'I thought it might be a feint,' he said. 'But when you pulled up and kept chasing it, I figured I must have been wrong, and you really had seen it. You really had me going. Why drag it out for so long, though?'
'I thought we said we were going to make this match fun,' Harry quipped. 'We said we'd look for the snitch for real after thirty minutes, but we never said we would stop messing around.'
'I can't believe I fell for that,' said Harris, shaking his head. 'You're in the same house as the Weasley twins, all right.'
Madam Hooch's whistle blew again. Alicia had made her penalty shot, bringing the score up to 120-60. It was time for the match to resume.
Harris once again tried a few rapid feints in a transparent attempt to get back at him, but Harry didn't fall for them. Instead, he gradually began decreasing his altitude as he continued his circling pattern; he had seen the snitch, idly whizzing about about a third of the way down the pitch in the direction he was currently heading, just a little below him. All he had to do was keep going while slowly descending and he'd fly right into it.
Closer, closer, he casually drifted toward the snitch, ready to dart after it if it decided it was tired of lazing about. It was mostly just flying in little circles like a house fly. He'd be able to just fly right past it and pluck it out of the sky without even changing speed or direction. That would make for the most anti-climactic snitch catch ever though, and his goal was to make this exciting. When he was about twenty feet out, he shot forward like a bullet. There was a brief shout of excitement from the crowd, but Lee, who must not have seen the snitch, assumed he was feinting again and announced that his opponent wasn't falling for it this time. He'd already come to a stop again by the time anybody else realized what had happened. Madam Hooch's whistle blew, and he held the little golden ball up above his head for all to see. The Gryffindor section of the crowd went mad, Gunther Harris gaped in disbelief, and Lee was ecstatically calling him a madman while simultaneous extolling his genius.
He came back down for a landing, and the rest of his team practically crashed into him. There was a lot of hugging and yelling – he wasn't sure whose arms were whose through most of it, and when he was finally released it was to see that a number of Gryffindor students had run onto the pitch to repeat the performance with their friends who were on the team. Harry was no exception, and he was swarmed a second time, now by his first-year classmates.
'That was bloody brilliant!' exclaimed Seamus jubilantly.
'Are you just trying to top yourself from match to match?' Ron accused good-naturedly.
'I wanted everyone to have fun,' Harry said simply. Dean and Seamus laughed.
'Mission accomplished, I'd say,' said George, who had come over with Fred to clap him on the back, despite having been in the massive team group hug moments ago. 'I reckon Hogwarts hasn't seen a match like that since Charlie was here.'
Harry looked around the stadium, where people were talking excitedly to one another over the match they'd just seen. He smiled, a warm feeling in his stomach. For one day at least, people could stop worrying over Voldemort.
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This chapter totally got away from me. This isn't what it was going to be about, but I started with a simple idea and it basically spiraled out of control and practically wrote itself. Next chapter we should see time move forward a little more quickly, I think.
As always thank you to everyone who took the time to leave me your thoughts in a review. I love reading them, and rest assured I take all constructive criticism to heart, even if I ultimately decide not to implement all of it.