This is the last chapter that was fully completed during NaNoWriMo 2023 (though I have gone back and made a few tiny tweaks to it).
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It was a major relief to both Harry and Ginny that Sirius was still following the pattern that they remembered. Of course he would try and get to Wormtail while everyone was at the feast (Harry had casually suggested to Ron that Scabbers might enjoy attending the the feast, just in case). Given that the entire reason they had chosen to try and stick to the timeline they remembered as closely as possible was to avoid unpredictability – their one advantage over Voldemort being that they knew everything he was going to do and when – it would feel like a horrible waste if that all started falling apart now.
Everyone of course assumed he'd just lost track of the days and didn't know it was Hallowe'en. It was another instance of everyone misinterpreting Sirius's actions due to a crucial lack of context. Though in this instance, even Harry couldn't blame them. It would be near impossible to guess the truth in this case unless one already knew what it was.
The next several days played out much like they should, the mystery of the Shrieking Shack notwithstanding. And truth be told, Harry had enough on his mind without having to worry about that, anyway.
The entire student body spent Hallowe'en night in the Great Hall. Despite pulling his usual trick of pretending to be asleep while the teachers and prefects talked, Harry did not glean any information he did not already know. He hadn't really expected to, but all the same, he didn't want to be caught off guard by anything.
Sir Cadogan was brought in to be the Fat Lady's temporary replacement. He was as mad as ever, though of course in this life Harry had never officially met him before. He allowed Ron to describe his and Hermione's first meeting with the squat little knight on their way to their very first Divination lesson, which he did with gusto. Harry didn't remember the encounter being that funny. Maybe it was because this time he hadn't been there to be annoyed by it.
The entire school of course talked of nothing but Sirius's break in for the next several days. There were all sorts of wild theories about how he had managed it, from digging a tunnel with his bare hands, to disguising himself as a dementor by covering himself with a moldy old set of bed curtains, to Hannah Abbott's dogged insistance that he could turn into a flowering shrub (though how that would have helped him, Harry couldn't fathom). Amusingly, or perhaps bafflingly, since it seemed to Harry so much more plausible than most of the other ideas being bandied about, the thought that Sirius could perhaps be an animagus did not seem to occur to anyone.
Professor McGonagall pulled Harry aside one day to tell him the horrible news that Sirius Black was targeting him. She almost pulled him off the quidditch team before deciding that Madam Hooch was to supervise all of their training sessions, something that Harry remembered happening before. He did not much see the use, in all honesty. He respected Madam Hooch, of course, but she would be no match for Sirius in a duel, and if Sirius really was the insane murderer everyone thought he was, he would certainly have had no qualms about attacking Harry simply because she was there.
There was of course the brief episode of Snape teaching Lupin's class the morning after the full moon, complete with his ridiculously transparent werewolf essay assignment. Every time the man did something like this, it became harder and harder for Harry to remember that he had ultimately given his life in the fight against Voldemort.
Ron got detention after telling Snape off for ridiculing Hermione for actually knowing the answers to his questions. Questions he knew perfectly well the class as a whole had not gone over yet. It was Harry's first day in potions all over again. Harry himself knew the answers too, of course, but did not even bother attempting to answer, as he knew perfectly well that wasn't what Snape was going for, and Snape always made sure to ignore anything that might contradict a point he was trying to make.
Harry also couldn't help but wonder if Snape took all of Lupin's classes when he was recovering from his transformation, or if he just happened to be the only teacher free for this one. Surely he couldn't; there was no way he could fit a whole day's lessons into his schedule on top of his own. And what of all the other full moons throughout the year? Harry didn't remember ever having another substitute for Lupin after Snape, but then the full moon wouldn't always have fallen on a day he had Lupin's class. Dumbledore had to have worked out a system that covered the whole year.
It was a shame his class got landed with Snape, however. Far beyond his dislike of the man, Snape seemed more interested in belittling Lupin than in actually teaching them anything. He spent a good portion of the lesson criticizing Lupin's teaching and grading methods, as well as "correcting" assignments that had already been marked.
'That is incorrect; the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia,' Snape was saying to Seamus.
Wrong, Harry thought, gritting his teeth in annoyance. They're Japanese, as you should very well know. What are you even doing?
He could understand not having time to prepare for this lesson if Dumbledore dropped it on him last minute, but that was no excuse for not knowing a basic fact like that.
What convinced Harry the most that it couldn't always have been Snape substituting, however, was the essay itself. No doubt Snape would have attempted something similar in every Defense class he taught – he would have wanted to maximise the chance of someone catching his hints – and Hermione could not have been the only student in the entire school clever enough to have figured it out. Though it was certainly possible one or two older students also realized the truth and chose to keep it to themselves as she had, somebody would eventually have gone public with the knowledge.
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Harry awoke on Saturday morning to Peeves blowing in his ear. This, combined with the weather – a torrential downpour and clouds so thick the sun may as well have not come up at all – did not put him in the best of moods. He was about to replay the first quidditch match he'd ever lost, only he would be playing it against Slytherin instead of Hufflepuff. Malfoy never having been injured by Buckbeak, the Slytherins had apparently been unable to think up an excuse to sit out the match that would satisfy Madam Hooch. Harry did not doubt that they tried, but was pleased to see they had not succeeded.
He had to stop Crookshanks from sneaking into their dormitory on his way out. It wasn't the first time, and wouldn't be the last. He couldn't afford Sirius getting hold of Wormtail. He would simply kill him, and then the only evidence that he was an innocent man would be lost forever. Just as importantly, Wormtail had an essential role to play in Voldemort's return and eventual downfall, and Harry needed to make sure he played it. So very many things had to go exactly the right way in order for Harry and Ginny to be able to control the outcome, and none of it would be possible with Wormtail dead.
Well, maybe it still would be if they thought about it hard enough, but at the very least it would make everything exponentially more difficult. It was already stressful enough as it was, thank you very much.
Harry was halfway through a bowl of porridge when the rest of the team turned up for breakfast. They'd been practicing in similar weather for most of the week, so they weren't particularly worried about it. In fact they seemed in relatively high spirits. Harry would have been too if he wasn't worried about a hundred dementors storming onto the pitch. He had no reason to believe that particular event would be any different this time around.
At least he was prepared. He would be taking his wand with him in his quidditch robes (as he always did anyway), and he felt he'd been working with Lupin long enough now that he could get away with casting at least a misty patronus, which would buy him enough time to land safely.
He had also cast an impervius charm on his glasses, which he had not known how to do the first time he'd gone into this match. Come to think of it, he was relatively certain this was the very match when he'd learned (from Hermione, of course) how to do it.
Ginny was particularly excited. This would be their first time playing on a team together while neither of them was captain. She knew about his anxiety regarding the dementors but as she reminded him, she had complete faith in his ability to handle it and so was not worried about him in the slightest. He envied her that.
Katie, whose turn it was to sit out, had still come down to breakfast with the rest of the team to boost morale. She would be allowed to go down to the changing areas with them and sit on the sidelines during the game, but she'd opted to sit in the stands with some of her friends.
'Haven't had a chance to shout myself hoarse rooting for Gryffindor since first year,' she said, grinning wildly and popping some grapes into her mouth. 'Should be fun.'
Rory Teague, who'd also come to eat with them, had similar plans.
'Never watched a match from the sidelines before,' she said, 'but I reckon I'd get a crick in my neck. No thanks.'
McClaggen had not been informed that the team was meeting before the match.
The student body wasn't any less daunted by the weather than his teammates. Quidditch was a sport for all occasions, and people didn't let silly things like zero visibility and potential hypothermia disrupt their enjoyment of it. Nevertheless, the wind buffeted them so strongly on their way down to the pitch that no one, not even the sturdily built Wood, managed to walk in a straight line.
If there was one group of people who were not enthused about the match in the slightest, it was the Slytherin team. Harry's spirits rose when he saw them approaching in their emerald green robes, already soaked through, with heavy scowls on their faces. Even their entire roster full of Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones wasn't going to be enough to compensate for this weather, and they knew it. Malfoy had to be remembering how badly he'd been humiliated the last time he'd flown against Harry and was probably dreading it happening again.
They could barely hear Madam Hooch's whistle that signaled the start of the match. As soon as he was in the air, Harry cast a warming charm on himself. He'd waited in order to avoid awkward questions about where he'd learned it. There was nothing he could do about the rain, but he had no intention of freezing half to death if he didn't have to. He knew Ginny had planned to do the same.
The match was as chaotically bad as he remembered. Even with his imperviused glasses, he still had trouble seeing what was going on through the thick rain. Flying steady was also next to impossible with howling winds trying to toss him about like a leaf, and he couldn't hear Lee's commentary or the crowd or anything at all besides wind, rain, and thunder. His great hope that he could catch the snitch before the dementors appeared was looking less and less likely with each passing minute.
The lightning was his best chance, he realized. Every time it flashed, he swept his eyes over the pitch in a broad sweep, looking for a telltale glint of gold.
He had no luck, but on one of those flashes, he saw the distinctive form of an enormous, shaggy black dog silhouetted against the grey cloudy sky, sitting in the topmost row of empty seats. His heart swelled; it was his first time actually seeing Sirius since summer in Privet Drive. So bouyed was he that it actually took him several moments to notice the commotion below him. But the cold seeping into him now was from more than just the rain. The sound of the wind was fading and being replaced by the faint echos of screams. His mother, pleading for his life. Hermione, being tortured. Ginny, screaming his name thinking he was dead.
Thinking quickly, he turned his Nimbus toward the stands, and within seconds had his feet planted firmly. He was high enough up that the effects of the dementors was somewhat muted, even with their being so many of them. His heart being so full from just seeing Sirius was helping him mentally ward them off, but he had his wand out ready to cast his misty Patronus should it become necessary.
Several screams from spectators in the stands nearby caught his attention, and when he looked out to see what they were pointing at, his heart plummeted.
Ginny was dangling from her broom, barely conscious. She'd managed to hook her left knee and elbow around it, which was currently all that was keeping her on, but she wouldn't stay there long in that wind. Worse, she seemed to be rising steadily, no longer in control of her broom. She had to be at least sixty feet up already. Seventy. Eighty...
Without even thinking what he was doing, Harry leapt out of the stands and mounted his broom in midair, launching himself toward her. The dementors were still spilling out onto the pitch, people fleeing before them in all directions. If Ginny fell before he could get to her…
Just as he thought it, her remaining strength gave out and she slipped from her broomstick, plummeting like a stone to the surface of the pitch below. He forced himself into a dive, even though he knew he wasn't close enough. She'd be on the ground in two or three seconds. He wouldn't reach her in time.
The world seemed to shift into super slow motion. It never occurred to him to pull out his wand. Trying to cast a patronus or anything else would rob him of focus and time he needed. If he could just force an extra burst of speed! If he were riding his Firebolt, he could do it, he thought furiously.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone else – Fred or George, he couldn't tell which one – also flying to catch her, but they had even less of a lead than he did. They'd never make it.
The cold was creeping in now; the edges of his vision were beginning to blur, then go dark. He was going to pass out before he even reached her, and then both of them would end up slamming into the ground.
Suddenly, mere moments before she would have hit, her momentum slowed. She was still falling hard enough to cause injury, but the difference was enough for Harry to finally catch up with her.
He practically crashed into her with less than ten feet to spare, but their combined momentum meant that he lost almost all control he still had. He barely managed to slow their descent any more than it already had by the time they hit the mercifully soft, muddy, earth.
He must have lost consciousness for only a second or two, because the next thing he noticed was George landing hard right next to them, creating a great muddy splash that covered all but his imperviused glasses. Fred was only a heartbeat behind him. Both looked pale and terrified.
Still feeling groggy, Harry was alert enough to realize that the echoing screams in his mind were still growing louder. The dementors were still pouring in. If he didn't do something…
He tried to raise his wand, but his arm was pinned under an unconscious Ginny and clearly broken, to boot. He grunted in pain, but it was pain he barely even registered over everything else he was trying to process.
Then, just as suddenly as Ginny's fall had been slowed, the darkness creeping in around his vision receded, and the unnatural cold was replaced once more by a completely natural one. He saw Fred and George looking around in astonishment, silvery light reflecting off their still ghostly white faces.
He knew what must have happened. One of the teachers must have cast a patronus. With great effort, he managed to raise his head a few inches to see whose it was.
A beautiful, silver phoenix was circling them, holding all the dementors back. Along with it was a silver tabby cat, pacing back and forth, and a third patronus Harry had never seen before, though he knew instantly both whose it was and why he'd never seen it before.
A majestic silver wolf was pacing opposite the cat, staring menacingly at the dementors. Harry was astounded; not that Lupin could cast a corporeal patronus, but that he had chosen to do so. Lupin hated everything to do with wolves, and even though this patronus was an ordinary wolf and not a werewolf, and no one would ever have any reason to suspect anything (patronuses could be anything, after all), he couldn't imagine Lupin being happy about the form his patronus took. Nor did he think his father's friend would like people seeing it. Harry had never thought about it before, but he'd only ever seen Lupin conjur incorporeal silver mist when warding off dementors. Now he knew why.
Dumbledore's voice, strong and terrible, carried over the pitch. It was not magically amplified that Harry could tell.
'Minerva, see to your students. Take Remus with you. Severus, take Rolanda and see to yours. Filius, please oversee the evacuation of the stadium. I will deal with the dementors.'
There was an anger to his words buried just beneath the surface. Harry could not see Dumbldore, but remembered him on those few occasions when he had been truly furious. It was a reminder of just how formidable the old man really was.
Off in the distance, Harry could see a few more flashes of silver. Other teachers must have cast their patronuses as well. Maybe even some of the older students who were capable had done so also. He knew N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts covered the spell, but couldn't think if they'd have gone over it yet. Surely not with real dementors, in any case.
'You two!' he heard McGonagall shouting. 'Are they all right?' She must have been talking to the twins. The world sped back up again and Harry realized that only seconds must have passed since he saw Ginny fall.
'We don't know,' said George, sounding near to panicked. 'I think Harry's awake, but Ginny...'
'She's breathing,' Harry called out to them. Or tried to, at any rate. It came out as a rasp, and too late he understood he'd broken more bones that just in his arm. At least a few of his ribs must have cracked as well.
'Potter!' McGonagall cried, hurrying over. 'Are you injured?'
Normally he'd have been tempted to say something cheeky. At the moment he was too worried to consider it. 'My arm is broken, and probably some ribs,' he said, wincing. 'Is Ginny okay?'
'You say she is breathing, which is good news,' said McGonagall. 'If she was unconscious when she fell, that might have lessened her chance of injury.'
'Not to mention you sort of broke her fall,' said Fred, getting some of his composure back.
'That was very foolhardy of you, Potter, but very brave as well,' said McGonagall. 'Thirty points to Gryffindor. Hold still, now.'
She waved her wand and levitated Ginny off of him, then conjured a stretcher underneath each of them. She gave Ginny to George and Harry to Fred, with instructions to take them straight to the hospital wing. Lupin volunteered to come with them. It was only then that Harry noticed both professors' patronuses were gone. Dumbledore had already driven the dementors off the pitch and was "dealing with" them, whatever that entailed.
He would have to wait to find out. The twins, driven by worry for their sister, took their instructions seriously. Well, as seriously as they ever took anything.
'That was one of the scariest things I've ever seen,' said George on their way back up to the castle.
'I can't believe Harry caught up with her,' said Fred.
'Neither can I,' said Harry. Then he hissed, wishing he hadn't spoken.
'Here,' said Lupin, raising his wand. He conjured a splint for Harry's arm. The immobilization did help a bit. 'I can't help with your ribs, I'm afraid. That's not my area of expertise, and Madam Pomfrey would have my hide for trying.'
'It's all right,' said Harry through gritted teeth. He found if he spoke very softly, he could minimize his breathing and it didn't hurt so much. 'Thanks.'
'You have Dumbldore to thank for slowing Ginny's descent,' Lupin went on. 'It's lucky she was able to hang on for as long as she did. It gave people time to react.'
'That's our girl,' said George proudly. 'Still though, why'd they affect her so badly? It's the same as on the train, remember? Did you feel like you might fall off your broom, Harry?'
'I worried I might, yeah. That's why I went to the stands right away.'
'Smart,' said Fred. 'They might say that forfeits us the match, but better than than both of you falling out of the sky.'
'I doubt this will cost you the match,' said Lupin. 'Mr Malfoy and several of his teammates also fled when the dementors arrived. It will be difficult for them to argue that this constitutes a forfeit on your part but not theirs.'
'They'll still try, though,' grumbled Fred as they passed through the great oak front doors. They heard footsteps coming toward them, clattering on the stone floor and echoing through the cavernous entrance hall.
'Dumbledore's just sent word!' called Madam Pomfrey's voice.
He must have sent his patronus ahead, Harry thought.
'Dementors! Of all the...here now, professor, I'll take them.'
'Harry's arm and ribs are broken,' Lupin explained. 'We aren't sure what's wrong with Ginny other than her being unconscious.'
'Thank you,' said Madam Pomfrey gratefully. She had already taken control of the stretchers from Fred and George and was waving her wand over both he and Ginny as she walked them briskly back through the corridors. Harry felt his ribs mend, and a few moments later, his arm. Fred, George, and Lupin tailed behind them. 'What else can you tell me about what happened?
Fred and George launched into an explanation, beginning with the dementors appearing suddenly on the pitch, and progressing (with surprisingly thorough detail) up through Lupin binding Harry's broken arm.
When the twins were finished, they had all arrived at the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey shooed the rest of them away. Even Lupin wasn't allowed to stay, which did not surrpise Harry. The matron ran a very tight ship.
'I suspect your broken bones are the worst of it all,' she said to Harry, settling he and Ginny into neighboring beds, 'but I'll want to check you both over to be sure.' She summoned two slabs of chocolate from her office, and handed one of them to him. 'Eat this, to begin with.'
Harry took a bite and felt the warmth return to his limbs. Madam Pomfrey puttered around, checking on her few other patients, all of whom were currently unconcious for various reasons, and occasionally coming back to look in on him and to see if Ginny was awake. It heartened him that she wasn't watching Ginny with any sense of urgency; that likely meant all they really had to do was wait for her to wake up.
He was mostly finished with his chocolate when Madam Pomfrey finally allowed Fred and George to come back in. Professor Lupin had gone off somewhere, but they were accompanied instead by the entire quidditch team (sans McClaggen), plus Ron, Hermione, and Luna.
They ran over to him at once, seeing he was the only one currently conscious.
'Harry!' Hermione cried. 'Are you all right? Is Ginny all right?'
'We're fine,' said Harry, grunting slightly in his attempt to sit up a little straighter. His ribs were healed, but still a little stiff. 'Or at least we will be. You know Madam Pomfrey. In fact I'm surprised she let you all in here.'
'She tried to keep us out,' said Ron. 'It was McGonagall who finally convinced her to let us see you. Are you sure Ginny's all right?'
'She's probably in better shape than me,' said Harry. 'Or will be once she's had some chocolate.'
'We should've known they'd get to her,' said Fred ruefully. 'Remember what she was like after the train ride?'
'It's not like any of us really had enough time to process any of what was happening,' said Angelina.
'What were those things Dumbldore and the others shot at the dementors?' Ron asked.
'Patronuses,' said Harry knowledgeably. The others looked at him in surprise. 'Lupin's been teaching me about them. I asked him for a way to ward off dementors way back at the start of term.'
'Sounds like something we all should know with those bloody things floating around all over the place,' said George irritably.
'It's supposed to be really advanced magic,' said Harry. 'N.E.W.T. level.'
'A few of my friends have mentioned them,' said Wood, who had been standing near still as a statue until now. 'I stopped taking Defense after O.W.L.s, though.'
'Ginny's waking up,' said Luna suddenly, interrupting the conversation. All attention shifted to the bed next to Harry's, where Ginny was indeed beginning to stir.
'Did we win?' were the first words out of her mouth. Everyone on the team laughed, but Harry could see the tension melting off of them as they did. They'd been genuinely worried about her.
'Flint tried to argue that since Harry left the pitch when the dementors came in, we forfeited,' said Fred. 'Until Madam Hooch pointed out that Malfoy and Bole did the same thing, and actually left the pitch before Harry did, so if anyone forfeited, it's Slytherin.'
'Naturally, now he's trying to say that the match should be ruled invalid because of the dementors and there should be a rematch,' said George.
'I don't think they'll do it, though,' said Alicia. 'Quidditch matches aren't really called off for anything, are they?'
'I talked to McGonagall before we came in,' said Angelina. 'She said something about the match being suspended.'
'What's that mean?' asked Ron.
'It means we'll resume the match right from where we left off – from when the dementors appeared, I expect,' said Wood. 'When, I don't know. Matches aren't suspended very often, either.'
'Will they allow substitutions?' Ginny, asked, munching on her chocolate. 'I can't speak for Harry, since I don't know what happened, but I don't know if I'm up to play right this second.'
'We don't know that, either,' said Angelina. 'Good thing we have an extra chaser and an extra seeker ready to go just in case though, eh?' She shot a meaningful look at Wood.
'All right, all right, you've made your point,' he grumbled.
'Have they even cleared out the dementors yet?' Harry asked.
'Dumbledore did it,' said Hermione. 'He was really angry. I've never seen him like that before.'
'It was kind of scary, actually,' said Katie.
'Glad he's on our side,' said Romy. 'Oh, Potter, before I forget, here,' she held out his broomstick. 'It's a tad scuffed, but none the worse for wear, I'd say. Lucky, that. You crashed pretty hard.'
'Thanks,' he said, taking it from her.
'Harry fell too?' Ginny asked, looking confused.
'Ha!' Angelina guffawed. 'Our bloody star here dove out of the stands and tried to catch you. Damn near made it, too. Never seen him go after a snitch like that.' She grinned, obviously trying to rile Harry up, but it had no effect.
'He did?' said Ginny, looking extremely pleased, but also something else. Concerned? That didn't make any sense.
'He did,' confirmed Fred. 'Ended up getting hurt worse than you for his trouble, from what I hear.'
'I suppose I owe him a thank you,' Ginny said coyly. It could be interpreted any number of ways; she was very good at that.
'I suppose you do,' said Fred suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. 'Just make sure it's the kind Mum and Dad would approve of.'
'Of course, Percy,' she said. Fred gasped in horror, putting on his most insulted face. Harry, however, noticed something.
'Where is Percy, anyway?' he asked. 'I would have thought he'd be here.'
'His "duties wouldn't allow it",' quoted George with his most pompous air. 'We've been instructed to ask after Ginny's condition and report back to him.'
'Tell him I died, and my last words were, "Where's...Percy?"' said Ginny, affecting a convincing death rattle with her final words.
'Will do, little sister,' said George, saluting. The rest of the team laughed while Hermione tutted. Luna smiled dreamily. It was hard to tell if she was amused or had already begun to think about that evening's pudding.
'Oh, by the way, did anyone get my broom?' Ginny asked when the laughter died down.
'We, er, weren't sure where it went,' said Alicia. 'You were really high up when you fell, and the wind was blowing so hard...'
Ginny's disappointment was evident on her face. He and her brothers had given her that broomstick for her birthday.
'It's all right, Ginny,' said Ron. 'You can use mine until you get a new one. Not like I'll be needing it anyway, right?'
She smiled wetly at him.
'Thanks, Ron.'
'All right, that's enough!' came Madam Pomfrey's voice. 'These two need rest, and they won't get it with the lot of you crowded in here. Out! Out! They'll be here in the morning; you can talk to them then.'
She chivvied everyone out of the room, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. She came over to make sure they'd eaten all of their chocolate, told them to make sure to get some sleep, then returned to her office.
'Ginny, I'm sorry,' said Harry at once. Ginny, for her part, looked very confused.
'For what?' she asked.
'What do you mean "for what"?' he said, now confused himself.
'Harry, if you're trying to blame yourself for what happened on the pitch, for Merlin's sake stop it,' she scolded. 'I should have expected it; especially after the train. But I was so focused on making sure you didn't fall off your broom again that I didn't even think about what might happen to me.'
'I should have expected it too, though,' argued Harry.
'Maybe, but I can hardly hold that against you when I made the same mistake myself. We knew what happened to you. It was what we were planning for. We just got tunnel vision, that's all. I hope you didn't hurt yourself too badly, though thank you for trying to catch me.'
'Of course I would try,' he said. 'How could I not?'
'I know,' she said. 'I'm not allowed to say thank you?'
Harry had no response to that.
'What exactly happened, anyway?' Ginny asked. 'I remember the dementors coming out. I looked over to make sure you were all right, and then they started affecting me. I tried to get to the stands but it came on faster than I thought it would. There were just so many. I remember starting to slide a little off my broom but nothing after that.'
Harry told her about how she'd been hanging literally by an arm and a leg, drifting higher and higher. He told her of the panic he'd felt, even when, in retrospect, he should have known Dumbldore would have everything under control. He'd saved Harry their first time through, after all.
'We can't expect to know everything,' said Ginny, fighting a yawn. 'Especially in a tense moment like that. If anything, this served as a good reminder that we will overlook things and make mistakes.'
'Things have been going so well lately – relatively speaking – that I did almost forget we could do that,' Harry admitted. A yawn of his own forced its way out, causing her to respond with another of hers.
'Clearly we do need to sleep,' she said finally. 'Pomfrey usually is right about that. We can talk more about where we go from here in the morning.'
Harry wanted to protest, but he really was tired. Maybe just a short rest. He closed his eyes, thinking that he'd bully Madam Pomfrey into letting them go back to Gryffindor Tower tonight and sleep in their own beds.
Just a short rest.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
The continuation of the match had been set for the following weekend. This was just as well, for Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry and Ginny until Sunday evening. The Slytherins complained that the Gryffindors were being given special treatment, until they were reminded that the other option had been to simply have one team forfeit, and that their team would have been the one to do so, according to the rules.
Harry tried extra hard not to get caught in Hermione's time travel shenanigans all week, and mostly succeeded, but Ginny was dragged back once by pure happenstance. She hadn't even known where Hermione was at the time, she herself having been in the toilet. Unfortunately for Harry, this had happened while he was in the middle of a chess match with Natalie Moon, who was now teasing him that his mishap in the match had caused his brain to go soft.
Ginny practiced hard with Ron's broom all week to get the feel of it, and while she was still playing phenomenally by any school team standard, the difference was noticeable.
'It won't be enough for us to lose our edge,' said Angelina reassuringly. 'Slytherin's chasers are still no match. And besides, we've got a ninety point lead already, and the day Harry loses a snitch to Malfoy is the day I eat my broomstick.'
The team was in high spirits at the end of their last practice on Friday evening. The weather was much nicer – still gloomy and grey, but no wind or rain or lightning – and they were flying as well as they ever had.
They were preparing to go back up to the castle when Madam Hooch called them back.
'Does this belong to anyone?' she asked, holding up a broomstick. A slightly battered looking Cleansweep Eight.
'Oh!' cried Ginny. 'It's mine! Where did you find it?'
'Just out behind the shed,' said Madam Hooch. 'Looks like it's been through the wringer, but all things considered it's in decent shape. You'll want to give it a test before flying on it properly, though.' She handed it over to Ginny. There were a few scratches and nicks on it, and a few snapped twigs, but nothing too serious.
'Hop on,' said Hooch. 'Let me watch you hover for a minute and then we can do a short test flight to make sure it's safe.'
Ginny followed her instructions. The rest of the team bade them farewell and returned to the castle while Ginny tested her broom under the flying instructor's watchful eye. When she finally declared herself satisfied, she allowed Ginny to keep the broom.
'How on Earth did it wind up behind the shed?' Ginny wondered aloud. 'We've been back there several times this week, and we're not the only ones. Surely someone would have seen it.'
'Hard to tell,' said Madam Hooch, locking said shed. 'My guess is it landed somewhere in the Forbidden Forest during the storm. It looked like some kind of animal had been dragging it. What or why, I couldn't tell you. Don't question your good luck, I say.'
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Now what in the world is going on there?
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