A/n review responses
Rickjames196: You must excuse me for not explaining future plot points. Trust that it will come up in time. But Harry is 12 and has no bearing on that wand other than it's Dumbledore's. He might have just canned it.
Guest: Not a triad, but I'm not doing a soul-bound fic, so Harry will be free to date whomever he wishes in the future. I agree; multiple relationships are a bit odd and always seem so disingenuous.
Suffice it to say that it's sitting around somewhere and will be brought back up at some point in the future.
Harry found the state funeral he was required to attend almost unbearably dull. From the hundred of Slytherin students coming in and acting sad to the four days of speeches of the man's accomplishments listed out by people that Slytherin neither met nor would care about had he the chance of an introduction. The only interesting thing that happened was Harry having to translate for Smara and find a way to convey her emotions to those that listened. So when it was finally her allotted time to speak,she grew to her full and considerable height and stood behind the podium wrapping half her body around the dias containing her father's remains.
Harry approached the podium and started an introduction for those unaware of his serpent companion's status.
"Hello and good evening, wizards and witches, lords and ladies, students, colleagues, and friends. For those of you who do not know me, I am Lord Harry Potter, and this is Smaragdine Slytherin, familiar and "daughter" of Salazar Slytherin. As she is the only living creature who had a personal connection with the dearly departed, the Ministry has allowed her to speak last at this state funeral in place of any blood family, as he has none living. I will be translating her speech for your benefit."
After half a minute of the crowd listening to sibilant hissing, Harry began to speak.
"I thank all of the generous and compassionate souls who traveled here to honor my father. Being the vain man he was, he will be quite pleased to have drawn such a crowd so long after he left this world behind. No doubt he will be ribbing Godric in the next life right now."
"These past days I have thought long and hard about what to say that hasn't already been said. My father was indeed a great man, a powerful mage, and a fast friend. He did indeed put his all into defending his beliefs, and I witnessed many arguments in these very halls about how vociferously he debated the other founders. What can I add to these compliments given by people who did not physically know him and can still list his atrocities so well even across all this time?
In truth, I cannot. My father was a difficult man to care for and very cantankerous in his ways. But he loved me as much as he did any human and entrusted me with the most important task he could imagine: defending this school, his life's work. I shall continue the task my father set for me in his honor."
Eventually, the hall cleared with many people admiring Smara's dutiful words. Smara hated it. At least six times Harry had to restrain his friend from reacting to those people "tainted by dark magic," as she said.
"They were controlled, Andromeda told me, forced against their will to serve Voldemort," Harry explained.
"Hmph! At least two of those foul beings smelled of fresh blood! They were controlled no more than a dog biting a stranger!" Smara bit back.
"Well, we can send in an anonymous tip to Lady Bones at least. It was that husband and wife combo, right? The Carrolls, I think? I've met them before. I swear they're brother and sister. Bleurgh." Harry, shuddering at the thought, started to leave the hall with Smara's affirmation. Instead of leaving, though, he made his way down to the chamber where he was unsurprised to find Severus Snape, who had let the man into the chamber that morning, thumbing through the artifacts room.
"See anything you like, Professor?" Harry called out while the greasy-haired potions master's back was turned. Snape turned in response.
"Yes, Potter, I have. I would like to take these suits of armor up and decorate the dungeons with them. The armor stands that were once there have been damaged over the years and not replaced, as well as that long-blackened desk. The Slytherin common room is in need of more homework space, and the students will no doubt treat the table with more reverence than they currently do. Finally, there is an old collection of professional potions pigeonhole bins I would like for the student store cupboard, which, as you have undoubtedly noticed, stands in a state of disrepair that the Reparo Charm fails to fix."
"All fair, Professor. Please, help yourself. And I would also like to give you copies of Slytherin's potion notes. They are most likely horrifically out of date, but as a true Slytherin, I thought you would appreciate them, not to mention there are several books about the different uses of basilisk venom, and I'm sure they've never been published," said Harry. It seemed to have gotten Snape's attention.
"I accept that generous gift with honor, Potter. I will put the collection in a place of pride in my office. What are you going to do with the rest of these, out of curiosity?"
"Andy suggested a charity auction. Personal effects of the founders are big money makers. She says I'm letting her work out the details, but all the money will be going to Hogwarts. I certainly don't need it. Well, goodbye, Professor. Please close the door."
Harry went to the small section of harmful and dangerous artifacts—the sixth trip he had made now to the section—and retrieved the last of the artifacts, which he carefully placed into stasis containers he had brought with him and put into his bag. After that, he made his way to Slytherin's Scriptorium through the (now) empty library. Several times he had made a trip here now, each time convinced he'd find another door hidden in the wall, but each time he had been disappointed.
The scriptorium itself was a large room filled with collected and handwritten books, tomes, and scrolls. A handsome desk sat in the focal point of the room, which, thanks to the Hogwarts house elves being set loose on the entirety of the chamber, was dust-free for the first time in millennia. Behind the desk sat a portrait that was sadly laid in tatters, mostly ripped to shreds by Slytherin himself—or maybe Tom Riddle, for whatever reason. The shelves had been stripped bare not two days ago, both here and in the library, the piles of books waiting to be sorted in his manor library. Harry made his way slowly around the room, touching and pushing random things in random places, muttering the entire time in Parseltongue variations of "Open!" But nothing worked. Harry finally gave up after ten minutes and left for home, bidding goodnight to Professor Snape, who was still rooting through Slytherin's decorations.
When he returned home, he didn't do much aside from sleep. They were finally returning to Hogwarts the next day, and the student body was needed for the interring of a founder. It should be interesting.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat on the Hogwarts Express. The train had left London more than four hours ago, and the rolling hills of Scotland passed the compartment window, as well as a great multitude of wizards and witches flying across the land on broomsticks, dipping down below the cloud cover now that they were in sparsely populated territory.
"So," Harry said, picking a change in topic from what they were discussing—the History of Magic as led by William Chambers and the massive amount of homework he had set over the break ("Detail the entire known historical timeline of magic in the Orient"). He was moving it toward needling his friend about his dancing skills, which Harry hadn't had a chance to do yet.
"So, Hermione, how was Ron's dancing at the ball? I didn't get a chance to laugh—I mean, watch," said Harry with a teasing smile.
"Ron was a perfectly acceptable dance partner for a boy who hadn't practiced," Hermione said demurely, causing Ron's ears to turn pink.
"Who'd you all dance with, Ron?" asked Harry.
"Oh, uhhh, you know, Lavender and Herms here," he said, trying to sound cool.
"And Professor Weasley," Hermione smiled teasingly.
"Oh, come on, Hermione! That's not fair. She came out of nowhere and started crying about me growing up. It was mental!" Ron complained loudly.
"Enjoy it, Ron," said Harry. "I wish I had a mom to embarrass me in front of my friends."
"Mate, that's just depressing," Ron said, causing Harry to shrug. That hadn't provided as much fun teasing as he thought it would, so Harry picked up the Daily Prophet, whose cover was plastered with several different articles and pictures, all of various sizes and importance.
"Dang, busy news day. Slytherin funeral, the last time the tomb of the four was opened. The Minister's Undersecretary retires; some lady named Umbridge has taken over the position, and some magical prison in Australia—no, Austria—was completely destroyed in a freak landslide. Seems they don't expect to find any survivors. That sucks."
"Yes, it's all very sad. Apparently, it was a relatively new construction, and whatever organization built it didn't secure the mountain around it in stabilizer wards—only the castle itself. Or at least that's what they're guessing. If you read the article, it says there is a massive blizzard keeping all travel out of the area," Hermione explained.
Ron shook his head to ride the daze that had formed while his two friends discussed the news. "Oh, hey, mate! Did you bring your Firebolt? No one else will stand a chance against us in Quidditch!"
"I did, actually. It's in my trunk. You can't shrink it; the charms won't allow it, so I had to completely rework the organization of my expanded trunk to make room for it. But I got word from McGonagall today that, as my broom isn't on the market, it's against Hogwarts bylaws to allow me to play with it. So, it will just be for flying at the moment. Although I was reading the manual it came with, and apparently, they devised a new charm based on homing pigeons of all things. I guess the maker is a Muggle-born. Anyway, if I let the broom fly freely or, say, fall off during a match, the broom will return itself to the case after about five minutes of it being idle or riderless. I'll have to see that myself next practice," said Harry quickly, explaining with great enthusiasm for his amazing broom.
"That's not fair! It's a broom, Harry. You should be able to play with it," Ron groused, sticking his lip out and crossing his arms, causing his two friends to roll their eyes at his behavior.
"Fair or not, Ron, it's against the rules, and what the headmistress says goes," chimed in Hermione.
A knock came at the compartment's door some ten minutes later. When Harry opened it, he was not pleased with who he saw. Draco Malfoy stood in the centre of the doorway, looking just as unsatisfied about being there as he was. As always, he was surrounded by the human boulders Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. They both had a look of unblinking idiocy about them.
"Hello, Heir Malfoy and Miststers Crabbe and Goyle. A fine day, I hope?"
The two dullards standing behind Malfoy gave a half bow and muttered something incomprehensible, but Malfoy seemed to stand taller, doing a full bow before responding. "Yes, Lord Potter, as good as a day can be when the students have such a solemn task ahead of us."
"Quite. Might I ask you the purpose of this visit, Heir Malfoy? We are not usually on speaking terms," asked Harry.
"My purpose here, Lord Potter, is to pass along a warning yet again. My father knows people in the Ministry, and he heard more details than were released about the events at this school." He then paused and looked over at Hermione. "You remember when we met on our first night? I told you you wouldn't want to hang around riffraff, Lord Potter. Well, I'm repeating that warning. If you continue to associate with filth, you'll be treated like filth as well when the time comes."
Harry stood up faster than anyone around them could bring themselves to react and slugged Malfoy across the eye, blindsiding the two brutes to the skinny blondes left and right and making Draco fall back onto his rear end. Then Harry leaned over Draco, speaking softly, almost sweetly. And everyone around could hear and even feel the threatening energy in the raven-haired boy's voice. "If you look at Hermione one more time and say the word filth, I'll give you a firsthand demonstration of what went on in this school during the break. Are we clear, Draco?" And then Harry pulled Malfoy to his feet just as two prefects ran up to the crowded hallway. "Heir Malfoy, pay attention to where you're standing, won't you? Your bookends might not be there to break your fall next time you trip," Harry said loudly as he brushed off Draco's clothes. Harry watched the Slytherins walk off and then sank into a seat and stared out the window, no longer in the mood to talk.
The Great Hall was still lit in the haunting, deep blue-purple-hued light that the ghostly candles gave off, still decorated with the black-and-silver tapestries. The only new additions were the four House tables and the four non-sentient moving paintings of the founders that had been placed on stands behind the bier that held Slytherin's remains. At a second glance, Harry thought their portraits weren't quite so non-sentient, as Slytherin was sitting in a chair and the other three surrounded him, offering comfort. It was quite touching, really. The outer wall was lined with non-student funeral-goers, all standing silent and waiting.
The Headmistress stood and approached the podium, raised now so she could be seen over the bier and the overly dramatic portraits.
"Good afternoon, and I would like to say a triumphant welcome back to Hogwarts. Today, we have a solemn duty—a ceremony long overdue—the interment of the last founder of Hogwarts in his rightful place among the four.
Could the seventh-year prefects and Head Students come up and act as bearers, please? Just stand in front until the signal."
"Honorate hospite et alumnis, hic convenimus ad solvendum tributum instituti conditoris prodigio.
Pater tuus apud te requiescit, Hogvartensis, et rogamus ut magnum aperias sepulcrum et apud te requiescam, maximum opus et honorem vitae eius invenias." The headmistress raised her hands to the ceiling and called out this long, complex line of Latin. And the ground shook and shifted. The head table floated up into the air, and the people who were there quickly descended to the main floor as the dais that held the head table began to sink and the bier that held Slytherin, held by the seventh-year prefects, descended as well. As the stone platform it rested on sank down, it slowly formed a grand, sweeping staircase that started to descend three feet after the house tables ended and continued to descend well past the wall of the Great Hall. Ancient torches lit the way down a passageway that was wide enough for four people to walk abreast. Harry could see that the passage made a gentle turn in its descent further in.
With the headmistress leading the way, holding a torch out in front of her, and the litter and casket bearers behind her, the students began to descend into the bowels of the castle. Down and down, on and on. Harry walked with Hermione behind him for what felt like an hour until they came upon a large room. Ancient and dedicated gifts to the previous founders littered the ground around three of the stone coffins, and the instruction to bring a small keepsake suddenly made sense. Hermione, having the good sense she always possessed, had brought a copy of Hogwarts: A History. Harry, with Hermione's insistence that it was a good idea, had brought two things: a magically rendered statue of Smara and a book found in Slytherin's Scriptorium that appeared to be a journal. Ron had brought the man's chocolate frog card.
After the bearers lowered the ancient remains into their final resting place, the students were bidden to start placing the gifts on and around the coffin. Harry, with Smara on his shoulders, and Hermione, as they were the only students to have anything to do with the founders' discovery, were allowed to place their gifts first. And so, Harry placed his book on the stone tomb and placed the statue of Smara on top of that. Hermione placed her book at the foot of the casket. Only for Harry to pick it back up and place it where the man's arms would rest. Many flashes and clicks filled the chamber while they did this from the multiple national and international reporters.
To even more flashes, the two second years bowed deeply and low to the newly interred founder. As they stepped back, the multitude of gifts came first from Slytherin House, and then the other houses, and then students of the past who had graduated, until his mass of gifts matched the other founders. After the headmistress said the traditional "requiescat in pace" the masses left the tomb, and it was sealed without any sign that it had been there when the last person left. A feast was held in Slytherin's honor, and it filled the rest of the day—a glorious send-off for a man with a legend more than a millennia long.
That night, for the first time since Andy took over as steward, Harry sent a business letter as Lord Potter to Lord Malfoy. In this letter, he detailed his heir's rude behavior and the consequences thereof, as well as the consequences for Lord Malfoy should he not find a way to rein in his child's tongue. With Hedwig on the way to deliver his letter, he got dressed for bed. Ron and his other year mates were already asleep, so he fell into his four-poster and was asleep in minutes.
The next morning, Harry woke up earlier than almost anyone else and decided to get some breakfast. That's how he found himself in an almost-abandoned Great Hall, eating his chosen breakfast: a rare American addition called "country ham" with eggs and hash browns—a breakfast favoured by their History of Magic professor, William Chambers. Harry had fallen in love with this new form of ham the moment he tried it. Ham was always delicious, but country ham was on another level.
While he was eating, he decided to challenge himself and see if he could throw together Hermione's preferred breakfast from memory. He was sure that it was porridge with six blueberries, four raspberries, eight strawberry slices, and three tablespoons of honey. He was rewarded when Hermione came down, dragging a delirious Ron behind her. She froze mid-step at her usual seat, staring at the prepared bowl. Harry felt rewarded when she only picked out the raspberries and pulled out a small side of bacon while thanking Harry for making her breakfast.
"What's up, mate? Couldn't make my plate too?" asked Ron.
"Like anyone is smart enough to predict what you're going to throw down that open pit you call a stomach, Ron." Chided Harry with a smile, causing the red-head to laugh while he piled his plate high with enough salt-cured meat to kill a tiger.
"So, Lockhart's our first stop today, right? Can't say I've missed his classes," said Ron.
"Oh, don't! He's been way better since he was put under observation. And I've heard that the school acquired new books for us to replace or maybe supplement his books and stories," groused Hermione, who seemed to take it as a personal insult that anyone would even hint that a professor is not one hundred percent qualified.
"As long as he doesn't try to cast any spells. Remember my arm? Theory is all well and good—he seems to know at least what he talks about—but every time I've seen him in practice, it's been a disaster." said Harry, cutting between his two friends. Not even Hermione had a retort to that. They hung around for a while to see if McGonagall had a speech planned, but it was back to business as usual, and they went off to class.
Defense against the Dark Arts was surprisingly informative as well as interesting. They were doing an entire unit on magical plants with dark natures and how to defend against them.
"Here, class, I have perfectly dead—and thus safe—specimens of several species of dark plants. These plants generally inhabit caves or the thickest of rainforests—places that are dark and wet. Except the last one there, under the cloche—nasty little blighter, it is—will only grow on a battlefield no more than five years old, but the fresher the better in its case." In front of the glass, there were four clear glass cloches and one opaque black one.
"Raise your hand if you think you can identify the four you can see, but of course, Miss Granger can!" he said in response to Hermione shoving her hand up first. "And I have no doubt, but let's see if any of your classmates can have a go, and if not, we'll come back to you. Now, Mister Longbottom, how about you come up and take a look, have a go." Lockhart said, flashing all of his pearly white teeth.
"A-a-alright," said Neville nervously as he strode up to take a closer look at the dead plants. "Well, that's a Venomous Tentacula," he said, pointing to the second cloche. "And that's Devil's Snare, it's a knot of thorny vines. I'm not sure what the third one is, it looks tropical though. And the fourth one is boostrap, it grows alongside smaller growths of Devil's Snare. They work in conjunction to catch prey in their sapling stages, but boostrap eventually grows away from Devil's Snare and climbs towards the light where it becomes the elf ear vine."
"Very good, Mister Longbottom. Take five points for each correct answer. Would anyone else like to guess at number three? No? Well then, Miss Granger, if you would.
"The third specimen is a tropical carnivorous plant from Brazil called "mixtecomac ohuican," which means "dark and gloomy thing." It is technically a tropical tree, but it's also an epiphyte. It grows on other plants and can even mimic the appearance of its host. It hunts by raising its roots and tripping its prey, only to drag its victim underground," Hermione explained, adopting her lecture voice as Harry called it in his head.
"Very good, Miss Granger. Take 10 points for Gryffindor for the detailed explanation. Yes, "mixtecomac ohuican", or known to the Spanish conquistadors as the "grave filler" for the behavior that Miss Granger explained. This plant, when it's alive, is the most dangerous plant known to magic. Aside from that one." And here Lockhart points to the black cloche. "It's also the only species I have here today that is alive. It has been sitting under that cloche for a few hours now, soaking up a liter of blood I supplied it with. And I'm going to, with my observers' assistance, demonstrate just why this plant is so dangerous. It will be quick, so watch carefully." And he picked up the cloche and immediately cast Incendio at the interior of the cloche for a few seconds before putting it down.
On the plate that had been covered until now sat a clearly dead guinea pig sitting on a blanket of white powder. But only a few seconds of exposure to the sunlight turned the white powder green, and then sprouted blue mushrooms, and the rodent moved. It didn't stand so much as it moved its stiff limbs in a way that facilitated movement, and several purple horns of fungus started to sprout from the guinea pig. That was when Lockhart slammed the cloche on the rodent, and he and the Ministry observer put their wands slightly under it and cast white-hot flames underneath the cloche for a full minute, and then cast cleaning and vanishing charms in the air and on the surfaces around the cloche.
"That, class, is the fungus of Hades, the mold of the dead, and in modern times, the zombie mushroom. It is the only cordyceps mushroom that can affect humans. It likes battlefields because the mycelium can survive off blood for years and lie in wait under the armor of decaying bodies, only to activate when a scavenger comes around and moves the armor or body or whatever it's hiding under and exposes its rapid growth to the sun. Long has the wizarding world inoculated against this fungus' effects, and it doesn't cause harm to muggles as they don't have a magical core to feed on. But let this be a lesson in your future classes and life. Don't go flipping over things if you don't know what's underneath."
Things continued like that; the students quickly fell into a routine of classes, studying, and extracurricular activities like duelling club and Quidditch. In fact, Harry had a lot of Quidditch practice; Wood was determined to make up for lost time. And the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match was scheduled for the weekend after next.
"Go Harry, Oliver has been staring at you for three minutes now. It's starting to get creepy," said Hermione.
"I know," Harry tittered. "Getting Wood's dander up is good for him. And he won't get on me as long as I'm eating. But I suppose you're right, I should get going. See you after the match." And Harry walked away to join the rest of the team in the entrance hall. As he walked past the house tables, two voices called out from the Slytherin table and one from the Gryffindor table.
"Good luck, Harry!" called the joined voices of Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis and Hermione. He held his hand over his head to signal his thanks and exited the Great Hall with the twins teasing him the entire way down to the changing room.
In the locker room after the team changed into their quidditch gear, Wood pulled them all together for one of his legendary speeches.
"All right, you lot, I want your best out there. This is sure to be a nice, even match. Just because the Claws are a bunch of nerds doesn't mean that they are slouches on their brooms. Now, come on, and we can get a feel for conditions." And the team collected their Gryffindor-themed Nimbus 2000s and entered the pitch. It was a bright, sunny, and clear day with no winter winds to blow them off course.
"Well, we want to play against the sun if we win the toss-up, Angelina. I'm trusting you there; you're our best riser.
Potter, they'll be fielding a new seeker this game: Cho Chang. I don't know much about her, so be prepared for anything.
Fred, George, you do your stuff out there, yeah? No mercy is to be offered or accepted, and that goes for everyone."
They left the pitch and returned to the changing area and waited. It only took five minutes for the multitude of feet marching into the stands to be heard by the team, and they made their way onto the ramp to enter at Lee Jordan's call.
"Good morning, students and faculty, to the first Quidditch match of nineteen ninety-three! We're in for quite a show today. We have Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. On the side of the Eagles, we have Roger Davies returning as Captain and Chaser, Brent Bradley, Summer Chambers as Chasers, Adam Ogden, Chad Druin as Beaters, and Emile Boot playing Keeper, and a new wildcard, Cho Chang, playing Seeker.
And on the amazing Gryffindor team, we have Oliver Wood as Keeper and Captain, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet as Chasers, Fred and George Weasley, the twin terrors on Beaters, and the legend himself, Lord Harry Potter, on Seeker." As the teams' names were called, they walked off the ramp and stood in front of their counterparts on the Ravenclaw team. Cho flashed her eyebrows at him and gave a shy smile.
Harry scowled.
"Now!" bellowed Madam Hooch. "I want a good, clean match! Captains, shake hands! Mount your brooms!" She blew her whistle and kicked open the crate containing the four Quidditch balls. Harry was second in the air, following Angelina, but was immediately followed by Roger Davies and the other members of the team. Despite her early rise, Angelina picked a poor angle, and Roger looked ready to pluck the Quaffle from the sky, but Harry had other plans for that. He turned his broom to intersect the Ravenclaw's flight path and batted the Quaffle away with the twig ends of his broom as he performed a perfect corkscrew turn and shot upwards into the sky. Harry was rewarded with, "Gryffindor in possession as Alicia Spinner catches the Quaffle!" coming from Lee Jordan.
But then, Harry tuned out the commentary to focus on his job. Instead of focusing on her job, Cho Chang seemed to be trying to catch his attention.
"Hey, Potter, when you lose the match, want me to console you in a broom closet?"
"Hey, Chang, when I catch the snitch, you want to hold it so you'll know at least how one feels!" called Harry back before flipping upside-down on his broom, hanging on by one hand, and doing a taunting salute to the rival seeker before diving straight down, down, down, only leveling off five feet from the wooden latticework that supported the viewing stands. There he continued at that level and started his search pattern. Cho, though, did not pull out of the dive in time and actually dove straight into the wooden undercroft of the Quidditch pitch. She emerged shaking her purpling fingers only twenty feet later and calling for a time-out.
Wood gave him a nod of support, and Harry continued to search for the Snitch while she got her fingers healed by her Captain. It seemed to take a couple of times.
It was a good match, as both teams scored, but Gryffindor always kept a close lead on their indigo-clad opponents. And Harry had very little luck in finding the Snitch. Twice now, he'd thought he'd seen it. Once was like reflecting off a Slytherin 7th year's watch. And the other, Harry suspected, was the Snitch, but Cho had fouled him by deliberately colliding with him outside of a chase, and it disappeared. Still, Harry wasn't worried; Gryffindor was 40 points up.
"Potter! Hey, POTTER!" yelled Cho.
"If you give up the Snitch, I'll let you kiss me! That's what all you little boys want, right?"
"The only thing I want to kiss is the Quidditch Cup, so—" There was the Snitch, buzzing about a foot above her head. 'How did she not hear that?' Harry wondered. But Harry did something both very foolhardy and very brave. Harry brought both his legs up and jumped clear onto Cho's broom, splaying his legs across the whole of the handle like he was walking a tightrope and snatching the Golden Ball almost out of her hair. Cho, for her part, screamed as he landed over her and screamed once more as she saw what he had done. The two had been circling high above the pitch, almost 150 feet up, and Harry's landing had shot them up even higher. Harry saw his Nimbus 2000 hovering still but slowly sinking. So, taking careful pains, he jumped back onto his broom, falling almost 30 feet to land on the broom that limply went into a free fall. The entire stands were screaming at the rate of acceleration, and Harry leveled off at the perfect moment to be able to dismount his broom on the run and hold his arm up in the air, confirming his victory. The final score was 240 points to 50.
Hermione, when she reached him, hugged him tightly.
And then decked him.
"Don't you ever do something that scary and stupid and pointless ever again! I almost had a heart attack!" she yelled at him.
"Miss Granger! I will decline to deduct points for your actions just this once, and only because I agree with you so completely. Mister Potter, if you ever do a move so dangerous without cause again, I will fill your shoes with so much lead you'll never be able to walk again, let alone fly! Do I make myself clear!"
"Yes, Headmistress. Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry said, sounding chastened.
"No, you're not," they said, mirroring each other, causing him to grin.
A/N: All Latin provided by Google Translate. If you're picky about your dead languages, blame them.
I've always hated the fact that the only world-building we got in the books was to set up a plot point in the same book, and it's never mentioned again—or no more than two more times if it's a boggart. So don't be surprised if I include extraneous information and never use it again or come across it years down the road.
Hey, look at that—a normal-sized chapter for me. Yay.