In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 120: Gryffindor Vs Ravenclaw
Saturday, Neville walked down the stairs with Luna.
"While I'd rather avoid nargles," Luna said, "A few might be what we need."
"Longbottom!" came the shout on the fifth floor.
A turn, Seamus Finnigan ran up to them. Sleeveless short blue T–shirt that let the EM tattoo out for show, the bit of midriff that showed to the blue shorts.
"You haven't seen Cearo Tebworth, have you?" Finnigan asked.
"That Auror you're not banging?" Neville asked.
"Belt it!" Finnigan snapped.
"Hoping she dressed as light?" Neville asked.
"I'd say get your mind out of the gutter," Finnigan snapped.
"SEAMUS!" shouted Dean Thomas, "Try Ravenclaw?"
Dean Thomas that approached, in blue jeans, but also the same sleeveless short blue T–shirt. His metal left arm that showed the point of severing several months earlier, the right arm that bore the same EM tattoo, the red circle and cross out over a yellow lightning bolt; the lettering above of Eximo Macula and the verbiage below of Making Wizarding Dark Art Free.
"Sure," Finnigan said.
Finnigan and Thomas went toward the Ravenclaw tower. Neville continued with Luna continued, and he wondered to the odds without Harry or Ron.
Ron woke to the wetness that crashed down on him.
"Wee!" came the shout.
Ron opened his eyes, the small boy, wet in the skin sitting on top of Gia. Edward bounced, the up and down.
"Um…" Gia muttered.
"Wee!" Edward shouted, a second time.
Ron climbed off the bed fast, the hands to ribs, and the lift. Edward against Ron's arm, the wet skin. Ron went down the stairs, the two flights, into the living room.
"Something escaped—" Ron started.
"There he is," said Arthur, the suit wet, as he turned around in the kitchen.
Ron set the boy down in the sink filled with soapy water.
"Bath time means a bath," Arthur said to Edward.
Hands that went back in, the sleeves rolled up on their father, as the scrubbing and washing continued. Ron went over to the table, with The Daily Prophet spread open on it, and sat. George approached, sat across from Ron.
"That was an … interesting evening," George said.
"While Harry slept," Ron said, pointing to the article, "Where's East Timor? Four dead there, and nine in France, want to see the pictures of the Potter Marks?"
"Harry has issues," George said.
"I know," Ron said, "I sleep with him."
George's eyes to Ron's, the curiosity behind them.
"Ain't nightmares," Ron said, "Not in the ordinary sense, it's worse, way worse."
Concern to George's blues.
"Behind that scar is a bond," Ron said, "Voldemort forces Harry to be a witness to…"
Ron scanned the paper, to a woman found dead by an abandoned mine in Wales.
"Murder and rape being played in his mind—real," Ron said, "Voldemort's dirty deeds fill Harry's dreams, and so he screams. All we can do is comfort the boy wetting the bed, because he's living a nightmare."
"Oh," George said, "I hadn't—"
"Don't advertise it," Ron said, "Instead, protect Harry, because he's the only one able to defeat the Dark Lord, nobody else is capable, not even Dumbledore."
George sat there, the blue eyes that remained focused.
"That bad?" George asked.
"Yeah," Ron said, "I mean…" Ron turned the page. "International support guarantees from… Kenya, Russia, and a couple others?"
Arthur moved from the kitchen, carried Edward.
"See if he lets clothes stick," Arthur said.
Ron stood, went into the kitchen. Ron set the frying pan on the stove, added in the streaky bacon, and turned on the burner. Ron set a couple of eggs nearby, got the toast slices ready, and put some beans into a sauce pan.
"You're…proficient," George said, "No chance in asking for two?"
"You brew potions," Ron said, "Right up your alley."
Ron carried the plate of the full English over to the table.
"Our house," George said, "Way to say thanks for crashing it."
George turned to the stove while Ron ate.
Harry laid there on the bed, Fred that stood nearby
"Weasleys," Harry said, "Dependable, family, and I know where I stand. Your Mum…always inviting me over, tried to never make me a stranger."
"She hoped you'd date Ginny," Fred said.
"Trouble with a witch," Harry said, "Never truly know if they're dating me or my name and my vault, you know? I probably could, but I'm better with Gia."
"Need to get moving," Fred said, "Don't want to miss the match."
"Mind sneaking me and Ron in?" Harry asked, "Couple of your hairs?"
"They'd notice you playing," Fred said.
"Our team," Harry said, "Gryffindor."
"Know how much George and I have sunk into it?" Fred said, "All those brooms? Not to mention yours."
"Ta," Harry said.
"Luckily that was a gift from Devlin Whitehorn," Fred said, "And we got more brooms to protect yours."
"Everybody on a Firebolt?" Harry asked.
"You will be too," Fred said.
"Better that way," Harry said, "Mine's got a quirk, not great in a match."
"That's supposed to be a good broom," Fred said.
"It is," Harry said, "Anywhere on the planet in a minute…in a match, nobody'd see me, where's the entertainment?"
"How nice you're thinking of the spectators," Fred said.
Harry breathed, wanted to avoid facing the day.
"All brooms in play are subject to inspection, right?" Harry asked.
"Technically yes," Fred said.
"Better house team broom than submitting mine or Ron's to that," Harry said, "Mine—they'd want to know why it only performs for me. Ron's is too nice to risk."
A double beep.
"Need to get going," Fred said as he stood.
Harry laid there for another moment, the pop.
"Breakfast?" asked Ron, who showed.
Ron's hand to Harry, the tightness. Harry apparated onto the sofa in the living room.
"Funny doing that," Ron said, "You rub off."
Harry snorted, though he also smelled the ham.
"Or…" Ron lifted Edward, set the boy on Harry.
Blue eyes, the grin, the T–shirt over the torso, and the hands that pressed down on Harry's chest.
"Dra—!" Edward managed. "Dra!"
"Bad idea," Harry said, picking up on the lust for a dragon.
"Ron!" Arthur snapped, lifted Edward up, "We'll be at Hogwarts."
Fred and George, both in their suits, went for the fireplace. Puff of green flame, all four vanished.
"Go to Puddlemere and practice?" Ron asked.
"No!" Hermione snapped.
Harry snorted, sat up. Gia at the table, and he went over, sat next to her.
"Lazy morning?" Gia asked.
"I…think we needed it," Harry said.
"Nothing but lazy mornings!" Hermione snapped.
"Not going to last forever," Harry said as he took his pills.
Harry pulled over the ham, carved into it, and ate.
"Where to after breakfast?" Ron asked.
"Hermione," Harry said, the knife mid stroke into the flesh on the plate, "If you want to study, no better place than the stadium."
"Denied the real game so you go and practice?" Hermione asked.
"Know Neville wants to meet up afterwards," Harry said, "He ought to learn apparation."
"Portugal?" Gia said, "Bit of surfing."
Hermione sighed.
"You and Ron are more than capable of going separately," Harry said, "Meet up on Monday?"
"Can't fly the game, rather do this," Ron said.
Harry figured he had to choose.
"Go there," Harry said, "Wait for the game to finish."
"Neville could be laying a trap," Ron said.
Harry snorted, shook his head.
"Guess here and there," Harry said, "About the only places we'd consider…homes."
Gia's hands to his shoulders, the rubbing into them. Harry pushed the dish aside. Ron brought it into the kitchen as Harry stood.
"Race you two!" Harry said.
Harry grabbed Gia, the thought, the disapparation, apparation onto the grass within the stands. Harry summoned over a Nimbus 1000, sat on its handle sideways, the pat, and Gia sat next to him, her arm to his back, her foot on the brace, as they drifted a bit. Heat of the sunshine warmed their skin.
"Holding up?" Harry asked.
"You…" Gia said.
"You matter," Harry said.
"I do have Uncle Marty," Gia said, "Maybe we could crash with them?"
"And burn down their house too," Harry said.
Grass drifted beneath their feet as they floated with the handle beneath them, Harry's hands that gripped it.
"Sorry we don't have better," Harry said.
"You're trying," Gia said.
"Build a house with trying," Harry grumbled.
"You've got the valentines," Gia said.
"I know," Harry said, "But…they're good as snoops at best. Any Death Eater worth his salt would've cleaned up their Hogwarts act long ago. I'd trust Snape enough to be checking for that."
Broom drifted upwards, and over the railing into the club house. Hermione already there.
"You—race," Hermione said.
"Got good friends here," Harry said, "Please get better on the broom."
Harry stepped back, grabbed the broom, and jumped from the railing. A roll, the jump onto the handle, and he flew upward. He had a desire to be there, at Hogwarts, playing for Gryffindor.
On their way to the stands, Neville and Luna walked past the stairs up into the stands, Neville heard it. A peek beneath, Cearo Tebworth on her back, Finnigan on top, the kissing and the hands.
"Do we?" Luna whispered.
Neville shook his head, led the way up the steps into the stands, and took a seat.
"WELCOME TO WHAT SHOULD'VE BEEN THE FINAL MATCH," Dean Thomas announced, "Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw!"
Applause, the cheer.
"PRESENTING RAVENCLAW!" Dean Thomas shouted.
Flurry of blue, mostly robes, led by Roger Davies. Cho second. Michael Corner, and the remaining four in their blue Quidditch robes. Some Nimbus brooms, some Firebolts, and Michael's had a Ravenclaw blue and bronze coloring to the strands.
"AND…not my favorite anymore," Dean Thomas said, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Boos that came from most of the stands as the blurs of red, the firebolts beneath them.
"New policy?" Dean Thomas asked.
Professor McGonagall took the microphone.
"To mitigate prior security concerns and to level the playing field for all players regardless of economic status," Professor McGonagall said, "Next year, all house teams will play matches with house brooms, however, Gryffindor is trialing this policy for all remaining matches this year."
"Sounds expensive," Dean Thomas said.
"Expecting every player to afford a Firebolt is also expensive on what's a Hogwarts community activity," Professor McGonagall said, "I understand Weasley Wizarding Wheezes gracefully subsidized the Gryffindor acquisition."
Neville understood, the professor was trying to avoid a repeat of the February match. Dean Thomas took the microphone back.
"OLIVER WOOD is letting out the balls," Dean Thomas said.
Below, Oliver Wood opened the crate. He released the golden snitch first, the bludgers second, and held the Quaffle.
"I expect a clean game, from all of you!" Oliver Wood shouted.
Neville remembered the line, Madam Hooch said the same. Oliver Wood threw up the Quaffle, and the blur of blue and red.
"AND THEY'RE OFF!" Dean Thomas shouted.
Wood mounted and flew up.
"Davies to Bradley," Thomas announced as the Quaffle moved.
Bats that swung, Justin and Paul Prewett hit the Bludgers. Goldstein that hesitated, as Josh Brenner intercepted the Quaffle. A pass off to Colin Creevey; the red and orange that flew on top of the Firebolt, toward the right end, toward Michael Corner idling in front of the goals.
"Colin Creevey to Weasley to Dennis Creevey back to Colin Creevey," Dean Thomas said, as the Bludgers flew the field, "To SCORE!"
Neville stood there in the hours that passed, Gryffindor stripes that remained on him, and watched as Euan Abercrombie's fingers went around the golden snitch.
"Hogwarts," Dean Thomas said, "I regret to inform you, that after the dirtiest playing ever, Gryffindor has won the match, five hundred thirty to seventy."
Boos that echoed around the stadium, and Michael that flew directly at Neville and Luna.
"As agreed," Neville said, "I will treat you to drinks and dinner at The Three Broomsticks."
Ginny that climbed the steps, joined in with the group.
"You're handsome," Ginny said to Michael.
A slow walk, down the steps, out onto the path, the Firebolt in Michael's hand. A short bit of a time until they walked through the iron wrought gate, onto the main street of Hogsmeade. A short walk, they came to The Three Broomsticks, and went in. Inside, the valentines to a couple of tables.
"Separate from them," Neville said, "Me and him."
Neville went and sat at a small table across from Michael.
"Enjoy Potter's bite?" asked a brown haired witch in bottle green robes, the resemblance to Hermione Granger strong.
"Excuse us," Michael said, the right hand that reached for her.
'Hermione' pulled the hands together, onto a plastic frisbee. A jerk behind the naval, Neville with Michael, as the witch in brown hair flew along with them. Neville crashed down onto the cold wet rocks within a cavern, the laughter and heard the chant.
"CRUCIO!"
Neville rolled in the wet, the wand drawn.
"LUMOS SOLEM!" Neville barked.
A blur of what had stood in front of him, the jagged edges above, the pool of water nearby. Blur that continued.
"Having fun yet?" asked the raven haired teenager.
Neville flicked, the ropes that flew at the boy.
"POTTER!" Michael snapped.
A blur, the disapparation, and apparation.
"Naughty boy," said 'Hermione', Neville's wand that flew into her hand, "Bit of a reminder."
She aimed Neville's wand at Michael.
"CRUCIO!" 'Hermione' snapped.
Wand drawn in 'Harry's hand, aimed at Neville.
"Best let her be," 'Harry' said, "That time of the month, you're sleeping with a girl, so you understand."
"Let us go," Neville stated.
"CRUCIO!" 'Harry' snapped.
Neville dropped to the ground, the shock went through him.
Pfffpt!
"No, no, no," stammered Michael, the chest to the ground, "NO!"
"Eww," said the red haired teenager, 'Ron' stepped in, "To think he's wanting to bang my sister."
Neville focused, the ropes that severed, tried to summon his wand.
"Longbottom," 'Harry' said, the foot that stomped on Neville's right wrist, the snap and pain within, "What'd you think you're up to?"
"Ouch," 'Ron' said.
Neville tried to ignore the pain, the sharpness to it.
"POTTER—SHOO!" Michael snapped.
Michael's eyes toward Neville, Neville's left hand held his right wrist still.
"CRUICIO!" 'Hermione' said, wand aimed at Neville.
Neville squirmed, the scream that came to his mouth.
"You?!" Michael stammered, a slow creep away on the wet slate.
"No you don't!" 'Ron' snapped, the ropes that bound themselves around Michael's legs.
"We're so deep even a broom's useless," 'Harry' said, "You'd crack your head wide open, should've taken your Firebolt, would've been nice to see your brains splatter."
A flick of the wrist, the wand aimed, as Michael flew backward, and was dragged forward.
"Please, please," 'Hermione' said, "We'll let you go."
"We will?" 'Harry' asked.
"For a price," 'Hermione' said, "If, Mr. Corner, you're willing to show Longbottom your dissatisfaction."
"Imperio," came 'Ron's curse at Neville.
"Too late," 'Hermione' said, "Crucio!"
Michael squirmed again.
"And you—either die or join your parents," 'Hermione' said, "What's it going to be?"
Neville stayed quiet.
"One of you decide," 'Harry' said, "Who lives and who dies, I've wagered Michael to live."
"Longbottom," 'Ron' said, "Only because it's the other."
"CRUCIO!" 'Hermione' shouted, the wand aimed at Neville.
Squirming, the push of the right wrist against the slate, the extreme pain that eclipsed the full body torture.
A sharp shock hit Luna's finger, the digits on the mug, neither Michael nor Neville visible.
"Where…" Luna said, "Neville wanted to meet up with Harry."
"I'd try Puddlemere United or a letter," Ginny said, "Who knows where Harry or Ron take off to, I should let them know about the win."
Ginny stood.
"Ta," Luna said.
"See you Monday," Ginny said.
Luna stood, walked up to Madam Rosmerta.
"Did you see Neville Longbottom?" Luna asked.
"There a couple hours ago," Madam Rosmerta said, "Talk to him about stiffing the tab."
"That's not like him," Luna said.
A glance to the bar, the card.
"At their table after they vanished," Madam Rosmerta said, "Like that fright will pay the bills, at least the broom will cover it."
Luna turned it over.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Potter has bitten.
Panic swelled within Luna, the shock that came again to her ring finger.
"Mind?" Luna asked.
Luna took the card, left The Three Broomsticks, a turn toward the Post Office, and a fast trot. Her heart that beat, she entered, took out scrap parchment, and wrote on it, addressed it, and rented an owl. A step to the floo platform, the drop of powder.
"Puddlemere United!" Luna shouted.
Green flame, the spin, unsure why she took Ginny's advice, stepped out into the club room. Voices, the fast turn, into the clubhouse, where Harry, Ron, Gia, and Hermione were around a table with empty plates.
"Hello," Harry said, the bottle green eyes on her, "Neville?"
Luna handed the card over.
"What?" Harry asked, the bottle green eyes that seemed to bear into her, the inquisition that began.
"Neville vanished from The Three Broomsticks," Luna said, "Stiffed the tab—not like him, and that was in their place."
"How long ago?" Ron asked.
"Hours," Luna admitted, "He wanted time with Michael—"
"Corner?" Hermione asked.
"He—long story," Luna said, "I let them be, only for Madam Rosmerta find that."
Ron already to his feet, as Harry rose.
"Ron take the girls," Harry said.
"It's a trap," Ron said.
"Likely is," Harry said, "Still, they've got Neville."
"And Michael," Luna said.
"Less concerned there," Harry said, "Hermione, Gia, go with Ron."
"Where?" Hermione asked.
"Anywhere," Harry said.
A step around the table, the hand to Luna's shoulder, the tightness as Harry focused. Open grass, a field surrounded by trees, her head by itself, along with Harry's, nothing else.
"What?" Luna stammered.
"One moment," Harry said.
Harry's hands, the body, that appeared, and Harry's wand out, aimed at her.
"That's splinching," Harry said as she came together, "How's your hands?"
Luna flexed her fingers.
"There's clearly a ward around him," Harry said, "Old fashioned way."
Harry flicked his hand, the broom that dropped and hovered.
"On my back," Harry said.
Harry mounted.
"Well, come on," Harry said.
Luna trembled for a moment, swung her leg. Luna reached around, her fingers into his stomach, and they floated up into the air. Both vanished, and she recognized the invisibility, the breeze as they flew. Ground that sailed beneath them, the clouds that were above.
"Strangely Michael's the trackable one," Harry said.
They moved along, fast.
"Who won?" Harry asked.
"Gryffindor," Luna said.
A moment later, they landed, the stone of an old barrack without the roof and half the walls crumbled. Wand into Harry's hand.
"Point me Neville Longbottom," Harry said.
His wand spun, did not stop.
"Point me Michael Corner, Harry said.
Again, the holly wand spun.
"Nothing," Harry said.
Harry closed his eyes. A moment later, they flew, back up in the air.
"Hold tight!" Harry announced.
Luna unable to process it, the fast approach of the ground, the near panic, the gap in the rock over rail, and darkness beyond. Cold, dampness as they fell beneath the earth.
"Shh!" Harry said.
Luna unable see where they flew, the breeze on them, however, she heard the whiz of rock nearby as Harry flew inward. Screams that grew louder, to where a lit cavern showed, a man in black with red slit eyes vanished. Flame shot out of Harry's broom, the pushing back to leave a ring around two on the ground.
"POTTER!" shouted Gairloch, "PREPARE—AVADA—"
A flick of Harry's wand, the cyan bead of magic that struck the Auror, and a pile of meaty bits that dropped into a pile of blood. Another flick, the slamming of the black haired 'Harry' to the wall, and Luna spotted it, the brown haired. Luna knelt by Neville, the trembling of the lips.
"Is…" Neville started.
A cackle, 'Hermione' drawn into the light, the wand.
"St. Mungo's?" she asked.
Harry's wand that flicked, the transformation, of Bellatrix Lestrange, and she splinched apart. Harry sorted it, a wand into his hand, threw it at Neville.
"My hand's busted," Neville said.
Michael picked up the wand as he stood.
"Humiliating—" Michael started.
"Don't," Neville said, "That's the real Harry."
More movement, the red hair beyond the wall of flame.
"Fucker's…" 'Ron' stammered, the push back.
Another splinch, the laughter.
"Got a minute Potter," 'Harry' said.
Luna heard the rumble, and Michael stumbled. Harry's flick, the other 'Harry' froze as the rock fell. A bead of white magic that arced out of the small Puddlemere United pin that Harry threw at Michael, one band wrought Neville's hand to Michael's breast as it struck, and both of them vanished.
"POTTER!" 'Harry' shouted.
Harry's wrist to Luna, the shove of his broom beneath her. Unbalanced, they went up into the air as the ceiling collapsed around them.
"What—" Luna stammered, as Harry flew them both as the large tendril, the bright violet filament of magic pulled them through as the earth reclaimed its cavern. Luna fell.
"LUNA!" Harry shouted.
Air beneath her, dropped from the black clouds, toward the dimmed lights of Hogsmeade with nothing supporting her.
Date: Tue Apr 2 23:05:57 2024
