Neville Longbottom was back at Hogwarts. He'd had a nice, long winter break. He'd hosted his friends over at his home, where they used Potter's goblet strips to get absolutely sloshed without his grandmother knowing.

The killer hangover they'd all had the next day had not been fun, but still, overall, it had been another wonderful winter break for the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was the first night back at Hogwarts now, with classes starting back up the following day. Neville was walking through the halls, well past curfew. For some reason, he'd gotten the sudden impulse to just go out and explore. He was walking around freely, not even trying to quiet his steps. He was Neville Longbottom, for Merlin's sake, no prefect would ever dare reprimand him, and the Slytherin ones would gladly take a few galleons to look the other way.

Now, if he ran into a teacher, especially Snape, then there would be problems, but Neville would cross that bridge when he got to it.

He thought about visiting the library, perhaps sneaking into the restricted section and trying to find some naughty books, when a door that was slightly ajar caught his attention.

Something was inside, and he wanted to take a peek. He nudged his head inside and found a large, ornate mirror just sitting there in the center of the room. There was some strange lettering on the margins, a script that he could not make out at all. It was probably arabic or something.

Neville fully entered the room, curiosity getting the better of him. Then, he stood in front of the mirror, and he gasped.

"Woah," He stared at what he saw in the reflection, reflexively reaching out to touch the glass before stopping himself. "That's cool, I guess."

He looked at it for a few more seconds before turning around, ready to leave.

Neville did not notice it, but Dumbledore's body language belayed just how hastily he was forced to dispel his disillusionment charm.

"Headmaster!" Neville blanched and he reared back in surprise.

Dumbledore gave the boy a kindly, grandfatherly smile as he observed him from under his half-moon spectacles. "Ah, Mr. Longbottom. Late night stroll?"

Neville smiled nervously, "Lost track of time."

Dumbledore chuckled, shaking his head in good humor, "Ah, to be young again. Now, I see that you've become ensnared by the Mirror of Erised. Fair warning, my boy, many a wizard have wasted away their lives, losing themselves in front of this mirror."

Neville was looking at Dumbledore with more than a hint of skepticism. "Really?"

Dumbledore blinked. "...My boy, how do you think the mirror functions?"

Neville shrugged. "It shows you what happened last week. I look at it and I see the time when Seamus polished my boots before I made my appearance at the Hogsmeade Christmas Market."

This answer left the headmaster completely stupefied, glancing between the boy and the mirror as if something didn't add up. "That is what you see?"

"That's what I'm seeing right now." Neville said as he looked back at the mirror. He frowned. "I don't remember Ron shaving truffles into my eggs, though."

"Ne-Mr. Longbottom, the Mirror of Erised shows you your heart's desire. It shows you what you truly wish for, deep in the recesses of your being."

"Huh." Neville said. "So that must mean I'm already happy then. Doesn't it, sir?"

Dumbledore frowned. "I suppose so… tell me, Neville, did you not receive my gift?"

"Your gift, sir?"

"Yes, of course." Dumbledore chuckled. "I may have forgotten to sign it, but you must have recognized my handwriting."

Neville stared at him, needing some time to figure out just what exactly the headmaster meant. Then, after a moment, he snapped his fingers. "Oh! The cloak was you then?"

"Indeed my dear boy. I must confess, I am a bit surprised. I was expecting for you to be prowling around the castle under its cover."

Neville shrugged. "No offense sir, but I have loads of invisibility cloaks. People gift them to me all the time. I don't like using them, sneaking around seems like something a slimy snake would do."

"So… you did not bring it with you?" Dumbledore said, sounding quite disappointed. "This was a special cloak, my boy, unlike any other invisibility cloak to be found."

"Oh, well… i wish you would have said that."

"I mentioned it in my note."

"I didn't read the note, sir. I-I thought it was some random fan!"

Dumbledore sighed. "No worries, Mr. Longbottom. Simply write to your grandmother and have it brought in from Longbottom Manor, or I can collect it myself, if you wish."

"Its not at home, sir."

"Its… where is it, then?"

"I gave it to Ron. He was really chuffed about it too, the lad."

"Ron… Ronald Weasley? He has the cloak?"

"I gave it to him." Neville said with a shrug.

Before any more questioning could take place, there was a sudden snap of wood. Quicker than Dumbledore could react, the mirror's frame fell apart. As Albus reached to try and stop its momentum, the now unsupported glass fell backwards. The Mirror of Erised crashed onto the floor, glass shattering into a million tiny little pieces.

Neville's eyes widened, darting right up to the headmaster. "I didn't do anything sir! You saw it!"

"Mr. Longbotton, please return to your bed. Now."

"Y-Yes sir." Neville didn't need to be told twice. He quickly scampered off as Dumbledore waved his wand, collecting the broken shards of the mirror.

One of the most powerful magical artifacts in the entire world, nearly a thousand years old. Gone. In the blink of an eye.

There was no mending it. The enchantments that powered the mirror… it would take a team of experts a lifetime just to hope to replicate its magic.

But the mirror's frame was sturdy. Quite so. It was strong enough to withstand most spell damage. Albus knew for a fact that only something on the level of basilisk venom or fiendfyre would be able to affect the frame.

So how had it fallen apart like a cheap, second-hand store mirror?

Albus levitated the bits of wood up to his eye level, and his frown deepened.

There were tiny little holes. Precise and consistent. Dozens of them, bored through the mirror's frame.

Someone had done this to the mirror. Someone powerful, as powerful as himself and Tom. They'd managed to do this right under his nose, as well, circumventing all of the security charms he'd placed on the mirror.

"Merlin's beard!"

It was the same holes he'd seen on the troll's club. And now that he thought about it, he'd been noting those strange little holes all across the castle over the past few months. Chairs, tables and even chandeliers, there had been a suspiciously high amount of collapsing fixtures around the castle frequently.

It was the dreaded third party. The powerful dark wizard that had their sights set on the stone. Albus could not fathom a figure like this, someone not just powerful, but vanishingly clever, clever enough to sneak around the castle undetected.

Someone who had know that Albus was planning on placing the stone in the mirror.

But it didn't make sense. If you knew the stone was to be put in the mirror, why destroy the mirror before Albus had placed the stone inside?

There was only one answer. This person, whoever they were, wanted to play a game. They wanted to get under Albus' skin, they wanted to wage a war of wits, with the winner gaining control over the ultimate prize: the philosopher's stone.

It was a dangerous game, a deadly game, but it was a game Albus had no choice but to play.

…

"Congratulations, Daphne!"

Daphne smiled, genuinely smiled, as what could have been the hundreth person that day congratulated her on her betrothal to Harry. She thought she would have faded back into her mask of indifference after so many people had gone out of their way, but she found her smile each an every time.

She was walking on a cloud, almost. She was free.

There was a small fly in the ointment, of course. They'd taken the Hogwarts express, arrived in the late afternoon and been in the common room for about an hour now, and Harry was nowhere to be found. Which meant he'd completely lost track of time and was in his trunk.

At another time, she would have marched straight down the stairs of his trunk and given him a piece of her mind about proper decorum and welcoming your betrothed, but right now, it was working to her advantage, because there was someone she needed to have a talk with. Someone that had been avoiding her so far.

"Susan."

"Daph!" Susan smiled very broadly, too broadly. Hannah was with her, looking more than a bit uncomfortable but offering Daphne a weak smile.

"Congratulations, Daphne! I'm really really happy for you! Harry was worried, you know? The moment he found out about all the betrothal stuff, I knew it was all he could think about." Susan tried, but it would have been clear to anyone listening just how strained the girl's voice was.

Daphne frowned, "Susan, can we talk? In private?"

Susan swallowed. "S-Sure."

"You girls can use our dorm room, I'll keep the other girls occupied down here." Hannah said.

The blonde and the redhead went up the stairs, neither one saying a word until they reached their dorm room. They glanced around awkwardly, wondering whether they should be sitting or standing for this, until finally just facing each other by the door.

"Daph. Let me tell you again, I am so hap-"

"Susan. You like Harry. We've both known this."

Susan paled, her hands trembling as she dropped her head slightly. "Yes."

"I've given this a lot of thought, you know. After the initial euphoria wore off, I got to thinking about this situation. Harry and I are betrothed, and I would like for us to be wed, I suppose, and yet you also like him. That could put quite a strain on our relationship."

"Daph, you don't have to worry about it. Its just something I'll have to get over. Just give me some time, I'm still gonna be the same old Susan."

"You don't have to get over it."

"What?" Susan asked incredulously.

Daphne sighed. "Like I said, Susan, I've given it a lot of thought. First, I realized that Harry can be quite… erratic, and the thought of having to keep him reigned in by my lonesome terrifies me. Also…" Daphne hesitated for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I like our dynamic, I enjoy the way the three of us work, and… well, I really do not wish to elaborate further. Suffice to say, I would not be bothered if you pursue Harry."

A smile flashed across Susan's face for the barest of moments, before the girl shook her head. "No, Daph, I don't think that will work."

"Why not?" Daphne asked. It had been a long shot from the beginning. The arrangement that Daphne was suggesting, it was bizarre even to her mind, and she'd really been far too optimistic that Susan would just accept it out of hand.

"The thing is, I- what you said doesn't sound so bad. But the truth is, Daph, I just don't think Harry likes me like that. You should have seen how concerned he was for you, how much he agonized over it. Even when you weren't around, I knew it was at the forefront of his mind, even when he was with me." Tears began to trickle down Susan's cheeks as the redhead gave her a bittersweet smile. "I don't think Harry sees me that way, Daphne, I'm not a priority to him. Not in that sense."

Her words were heavy, and Daphne was at a loss as to how to proceed. She could see the hurt in Susan's expression, and there was not really much she could say to make her feel better. She felt a pit in her stomach, it seemed that things didn't always work out the way you wanted them to.

A few frantic knocks at the door startled both girls.

"Susan! Daphne! Hannah said you guys were here."

Susan desperately wiped the tears from her cheeks as Daphne cleared her throat. She glanced at Susan, who gave her a nod.

"Come on in, Harry."

The door swung open and Harry spilled into the room, literally. He stumbled onto the floor and scrambled back onto his feet, a sense of urgency on his face.

"Why didn't you guys tell me you were back?!" Harry said.

"And how were we supposed to do that?" Daphne asked impatiently.

"Forget it. Susan, here, have this." Harry held out his hand, only to do a double take as he noticed the redhead's face. "Wait, have you been crying?"

Susan sniffled, "What is this?" She asked as she took what looked like a bottle cap with a spike and a rubber band wrapped around it.

"Be careful." Harry urged. "Just keep it around. If someone tries to betroth you, just prick them with it, it'll fill them up with a paralysis potion. Then I'll just beat them in a duel and you'll be safe. I don't want to risk losing you like almost happened with Daph."

The girls were left speechless. Daphne glanced at Susan, whose lips were quivering and eyes were once again watering, though this time the tears were not bitter at all. Quite the opposite.

Daphne smiled and gave the girl a small nod. Susan leapt at Harry, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a deep smooch on his cheek.

Harry's eyes went wide as he stiffened up. His face flushed a deep red, and then almost immediately after, it was drained of all color.

Susan hugged Harry tightly, rubbing her face on his chest, while Daphne looked on with a slight frown. Harry seemed unusually stiff.

"S-Susie… n-needle…" Harry managed to croak out.

"Huh?" Susan looked up in confusion before the weight in her palm made her realize what had happened.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" She let go, and Harry fell backwards, body stiff as a board.

Susan's free hand went to her cheek as she looked down at the petrified boy in despair.

Daphne pulled out her wand with a sigh. "Finite incantatum."

She'd figured it was the exact same as Petrificus Totalus, and so it would be dispelled just as easily.

She was wrong.

"...W-Won't w-work…" Harry managed to strain out of his vocal chords.

"I figured as much." Daphne said. Harry's eyes darted back and forth between her and the door.

"Do you want us to take you to your trunk, Harry? Blink twice if its a yes." Susan said.

Two blinks later and Daphne was levitating Harry out of the dorm as Susan fussed around him to make sure he was fine. And so, the trio made their way to Harry's trunk.

…

Hermione Granger strolled through the castle with a worried look on her face.

It wasn't like Padma to miss their weekly review session. Sure, Lisa had still shown up, but Lisa always needed tutoring, Padma was much more of an intellectual equal.

Hermione chastised herself, reminding herself that that sort of thinking had been what had led to her struggling to make friends back in her younger years. It had taken her some effort to come to the realization that maybe she needed to dial back the snooty attitude a little. Surprisingly, Dean had been the one to open her eyes up to this. Back in one of the workshops, in the nicest way possible, the boy had told her she needed an attitude adjustment, and she'd taken it to heart. It had come after she'd practically cried her eyes out, but still, she'd taken it to heart.

She didn't really know where she was walking. She was trying to find Padma, and she knew Padma liked to hang out with her sister and Lavender Brown sometimes, so she was sort of drifting towards a 'Gryffindor' section of the castle.

She was walking down yet another nondescript corridor when she heard muffled voices coming from a random room, many of them.

She didn't know why she thought to investigate, perhaps her natural impulse to snoop was far too strong for her to control completely, but either way, she approached the door. She walked up to it quietly, pressed her ear to it, and quickly discovered that it was slightly ajar.

"W-Woah!" She stumbled into the room, trying to keep her balance as her face grew red in embarrassment.

"Oh, hey there, Hermione!" Harry waved cheerfully as he plucked a hair from Parvati's head. The girl winced slightly in pain but otherwise remained calm.

The more Hermione took in the room, the bigger her eyes got.

Right in front of her, Harry was standing behind the Patil twins, who were seated side-by-side. As he continued to smile innocently at her, he was tying the hair he'd plucked from Parvati onto one of Padma's strands. Next to him, Susan Bones was holding a clipboard to her chest, though Hermione didn't really know why, as the girl seemed to just be staring at Harry with a dopey smile on her face.

Meanwhile, a bit behind them, Millicent Bullstrode from Slytherin was punching a wall, grainy looking spikes having grown along her arm as she punched hard enough to leave a slight dent on the stone. Daphne Greengrass then stepped up to the little dent, nodding as she began to rapidly jot down notes. Pansy Parkinson was with them as well, seemingly just hanging out.

"What's going on here?" Hermione asked.

"Granger?" Daphne quirked an eyebrow before looking at Harry. "I told you we needed to put up some sort of privacy charm."

Harry waved his betrothed off. "Add it to my list." He quickly returned his attention to the Patil twins. "Alright, now Padma, try to move your fingers again."

Padma drummed her fingers on the handrest of her chair. There was a two-second pause before Parvati let out a little yelp as her fingers also began drumming. They drummed for maybe a half-second before it stopped.

"I didn't control that!" She exclaimed.

"So freaky!" Padma said in wonder as Harry grinned.

"Susan, did you get that? We exchanged fourteen hairs… or was it fifteen?"

"Can we stop for today? I don't think I need twin telepathy to say our heads hurt a little." Padma said as she rubbed her head.

"Oh sure, we were just about to wrap this up anyways. This is a good start, next time, we'll do something a bit more advanced." Harry got a thoughtful look before whispering to Susan. "Do you think we can swap their hands without them noticing?"

Susan giggled. "Maybe we should go smaller, Harry." The redhead then went on her tippy-toes and kissed him on the cheek, flustering Harry and forcing him to adjust his glasses.

"Bones is being really friendly with your betrothed." Pansy whispered to Daphne.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I'm not blind, Pansy. Just mind your own business on this one."

Pansy tutted. "My, my, you really have gotten quite rebellious. Perhaps hanging out with this mess wasn't such a bad idea. Its certainly very entertaining."

Meanwhile, Padma was getting up from her chair and shooting Hermione an apologetic smile. "Sorry, 'Mione, I forgot to tell you I was going to have to cancel. We've been trying to set up this thing with Harry for a while."

"Are you… what is going on here?" Hermione repeated her question.

"Oh, well, I'm studying the twin's connection, see how far it goes and stuff. Meanwhile, Millie's testing out some physical enhancements I came up with."

Hermione's face flushed red. All of her social progress, carefully learned ability to read the room and understand when she was being overbearing, it all went out the window as Harry smiled like a goofball while he went on about his dangerous experiments.

"Are you people insane?!"

That startled everyone. Harry looked between Susan and Daphne, unsure as to what he had done to earn this outburst.

"Hermione, just chill." Padma tried to placate her friend.

"Chill? Chill?! Padma, he is experimenting with dangerous magic, he's putting all of your lives at risk! We're first years, for goodness sake! We barely have the theory down, and he's here trying to play Merlin!"

"I mean, I never thought Merlin was all that great. Ekrizdis was way cooler-"

"He's a maniac! Millicent, what if he's permanently deformed your arm?!"

The burly girl shrugged. "I can use this to club Flint over the head,"

"I have an antidote for that. Hermione, I always test my stuff out on myself first. Usually. I didn't do it for Millie's, though, she was the very first."

Hermione wanted to pull her hair out as she groaned in frustration. "You see? He's reckless!"

"Granger, you can disagree with what we're doing, but I'd rather not be lectured at." Daphne said as she walked to the forefront with her arms crossed.

"This is against school rules! What if a professor saw you?"

"What? Are you gonna snitch on us, Granger?" Millicent asked as she punched a small table, easily pulverizing the stone.

At that very moment, a professor did see them. Professor Quirrell had been drawn in by the commotion, and he'd witnessed Millicent's strike.

"Very interesting."

"Professor!" All of the students squealed.

Professor Quirrell was rubbing his chin as he walked into the room, eyes fixed on Millicent's arm. "So this is your handiwork, Mr. Potter?"

"Yep." Harry said proudly, before remembering the previous conversation with Hermione. "And its totally reversible."

He dashed over to Millicent, pricking her with a needle and dodging the quick swipe she made at him as her arm shrank back down to normal.

"You see sir, totally safe!"

"I see, and that would work on anyone? Could it be made for the rest of the body?"

"Oh, yeah, I mean, I still need to tweak it a bit, but It can definitely be done!"

Quirrell smiled, "Good, good. Mr. Potter, do keep me posted on this and any other similar ideas you may have, keep up the good work."

With one last nod, Quirrell turned around and left, leaving a set of stunned students behind, with Hermione being the most flabbergasted of all.

"Did you guys notice he didn't stutter at all? Do you think he's taking something for that?" Susan asked.

Harry shrugged. He clapped his hands together, "Well, that was great work everyone. Let's go get some dinner now! You wanna come with, Hermione?"

…

Mid-January was the absolute peak of the biting, bitter cold that made even the simple act of traversing through the castle a miserable experience. Those who knew warming charms used them, or took a couple of knuts to apply them on younger students. Bluebell flames became all the rage, discarded jars of them being found all over.

In these dreary, depressing days, the students needed an escape more than anything. The first quidditch match of the term, Hufflepuff Vs Gryffindor, would have been well attended by the other houses, regardless of the circumstances surrounding the match.

"How did Longbottom get on the team again?" Daphne questioned.

Hannah perked up. "Oh my god! I got the scoop from Lav and Parv. So apparently, Gryffindor's seeker… erm…"

"Whatever his name is." Susan urged her on.

"Yeah! So, the seeker apparently got bonked on the head with a bludger during practice a couple weeks ago. Everything was fine, but then their captain kept just having them practice every day until he got bonked again last week. Apparently, he got like some crazy memory loss and stuff."

"And he didn't just go to the hospital wing?" Daphne asked incredulously.

Hannah nodded. "He did. Madam Pomfrey had to feed him a bunch of potions to get his head back on straight, and the guy decided right then and there he was going to quit the quidditch team!"

They glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where there was one older student eating apart from everyone else, having clearly been shunned.

"That's so immature of them. I wouldn't want to get my brains scrambled for a stupid game either." Daphne said.

"It's quidditch though. House quidditch." Hannah pointed out, as if that made all the sense in the world.

Daphne rolled her eyes and Hannah soldiered on. "Anyways, the point is, Gryffindor was scrambling last minute for a replacement, and that's when Longbottom came in and wormed his way into the team."

"I thought first years couldn't play." Ernie said from a little bit further down the table, having just now tuned in to the conversation.

Hannah shrugged. "It's not a hard rule, apparently, you just have to be really talented."

"Or really rich." Daphne said with a scoff.

"Hey, don't sound so miffed. If Longbottom's trash, that just means an easier win for us. Especially since Cedric's the best seeker in the school." Susan nodded towards the fourth year boy who was eating with the rest of the team.

"I'm just excited for some quidditch! Help get the blood pumping!" Hannah said. "It's gonna be a full house, they say there's even people from the Prophet coming to cover it."

Daphne pursed her lips. "It might pay to go early, find good seats." She looked towards Harry.

Throughout this entire conversation, Harry had kept his head down, doodling some very rough blueprints on the back of a napkin as he murmured to himself.

Susan poked him on the side. "Harry, have you been listening?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, what's up?"

"We've got to find good seats for the Quidditch match." Daphne said.

Harry's face became strained. "Do we really have to go? The castle will be almost empty, and it'll be a great opportunity."

"We really want to go." Susan made puppy dog eyes at him while Daphne crossed her arms. "Indeed. I have missed all the previous matches and it would be a great bonding experience, my betrothed."

Harry pouted, but the looks from the two girls were far too powerful. His shoulders sagged as the boy gave in.

"Fine."

…

Neville Longbottom's first quidditch match was very well attended indeed. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs streamed into their respective stands, but some Ravenclaws and most of Slytherin had also decided to show up for this momentous occasion.

As Harry and the girls walked up to join the Hufflepuff section, they could hear bits and pieces of conversations from the others nearby.

"I hope he gets brained by a bludger. That'd make a nice cover for the Prophet." Draco sneered, illuminating the reason so many Slytherins had shown up for this match: they wanted to see Longbottom embarrass himself.

Surprisingly, Longbottom's friends did not try and start a fight with Malfoy. Ron had just run up to the group, who were jabbering excitedly. Apparently, the headmaster himself had asked to speak with him.

"What was it, mate, are you getting expelled?" Seamus asked.

Ron shook his head. "No, he just wanted to ask about that invisibility cloak Neville gave me. I told him I left it at home, I guess he's gonna visit mum tonight to ask for it. Can you believe it was from him?!"

Dean smacked himself on the forehead. "Why would you leave something like that at home? Do you know all the stuff you coulda done with it?"

Ron grumbled. "Percy found out and told mum, and she said I couldn't take something that valuable to school with me."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Bet you a galleon you were blabbin' about it all around your house. Tis' your own fault, mate."

The boys continued to bicker as everyone spread out across the bleachers. There were banners and streamers, horns and noisemakers. All around the pitch, the students were being lively and rowdy, fighting the good fight against the crippling cold.

"Look, everyone's got our strips!" Hannah said proudly. And it was true, all around the pitch, people were carrying goblets with their special strips on the brim. A select few even had the firewhisky ones. "Brings a tear to my eye."

Harry was rubbing his hands together. Even with the inlaid warming charms, his coat, scarf and gloves were struggling against the cold. At another time, he would have perhaps been scheming on how to improve on these clearly limited garments, but he was just so damn cold, he couldn't even think properly.

Daphne hooked one arm under his elbow, and Susan did the same on the other side. Both girls snuggled up to him for warmth, and suddenly, the cold seemed to drop considerably.

The stands were full now. Near Dumbledore and the other professors, there were about a half-dozen or so journalists who were visiting the castle.

"That's Rita Skeeter." Hannah pointed out the lady with the very loud horn-rimmed glasses.

Ernie, meanwhile, seemed impressed by someone else. "Woah! And that's the manager for Podmore United. I bet he's here to scout Longbottom!"

The teams streamed onto the pitch, with Madam Hooch flying in to meet the captains in the middle. After explaining that she wanted a good, clean match, she had the captains shake hands before she kicked up into the air with a quaffle in hand, both teams following along.

"I've never seen Longbottom's broom before, what is that thing?" Ernie mused.

"Likely a prototype." Daphne said.

Harry, meanwhile, paled slightly as Madam Hooch caught his eye. The match referee narrowed her eyes at him. She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then right back at Harry, an ominous gesture.

Then, she blew the match whistle and threw the quaffle up in the air. The bludgers were released, and a tiny hint of gold zoomed off into the distance.

The match was on.

"Bloody hell, their chasers are creaming us!" Hannah yelled in frustration and Alicia Spinnet scored another goal, making the contest 50-20 in favor of the lions.

"At least Neville looks like he can barely handle his broom." Susan said.

And it was true, Longbottom's broom was far faster than any other on the pitch, but the teen could not handle the power at all, and while Cedric had been searching for the snitch, Neville had needed these opening minutes just to get enough of a handle to not get bucked off whenever he accelerated.

"COME ON GRYFFINDOR! SCORE SOME FACKIN' GOALS!"

"He's going to get frostbite if he keeps that up." Hannah said as Ron Weasley continued to yell. The boy was standing there shirtless, Gryffindor colors painted on his torso as he clapped his hands and yelled, his aggression directed more towards Malfoy than the Hufflepuff cheering section.

Harry, meanwhile, was not having a good time. Just looking at all the people zipping about, high up in the air, made him a bit queasy. He really, really did not like flying.

Susan was the first to notice his discomfort, and she rubbed the back of his hand to calm him down. "Just relax, Harry. Don't look at the people flying, just try to focus on something else."

Harry gave Susan an appreciative smile and decided to heed her advice. He ignored all the people flying around on brooms that made him feel instant vertigo, instead focusing on the game balls. He first looked at the bludgers, thinking it'd at least be fun to see them hit people, but then a glint of gold caught his eye.

It was the small little winged thingy, and it was flying around really fast, but not so fast that Harry couldn't keep up. He wondered why Cedric and Neville were struggling so hard to find it, when it was so easy to follow.

Screams of terror drew his focus. He looked around, wondering what had Susan standing up and Daphne holding a deathgrip on his arm.

Then he saw it. As the other players looked on in concern, Longbottom was hanging onto his broom for dear life. The broom was bucking and jostling like a wild horse trying to throw off its rider, and Longbottom did not seem like he would last much longer.

"Maybe the prototype malfunctioned." Ernie whispered.

"That's no malfunction, that's sabotage." Daphne said.

"Look at Snape!" Susan whispered.

Over where the professors were sitting, Professor Snape was rapidly muttering something as he gripped his wand in his hand.

"That's a countercurse." Daphne said. "Someone else is trying to curse him."

Things were not looking good for the Boy-Who-Lived. Dumbledore stood up to try and do something, but just as he moved, that entire section of the stands began to wobble, and then, all of a sudden, it collapsed.

"OH MY GOD!"

The professors and journalists were all taken for a ride as their entire area began to break apart. Dumbledore let out a mighty roar, thrusting his arm up into the air as his wand was lit with a bright glow. The stands began to glow as well, as they were kept upright. Flitwick then joined the Headmaster, and together, they were able to hold the section afloat.

"MOVE." Dumbledore ordered, his grandfatherly tone completely gone. The professors and journalists all scrambled over to the un-damaged sections of the grandstands. Once they had all moved away, Dumbledore relinquished his spell, and the now empty section crumbled away, collapsing onto the ground.

Potentially fatal as that had been, it seemed to have saved Longbottom's life, who found himself right back up on his broom, in full control, though he looked quite pale in the face.

"Should we be evacuating or something?" One of the Hufflepuffs, clearly a muggleborn, asked.

Dumbledore made a gesture to Hooch, who then blew her whistle. The match was re-started.

"That could have been really bad." Susan said as the tenseness slowly dissipated. No one seemed at all worried about the structural integrity of the rest of the stands.

And so, the game continued on.

And on and on.

Minutes turned to hours, and when the score was 860-740 in favor of Gryffindor, people started to grumble.

"We started at eleven, didn't we? It's four-thirty, the sun's about to set!" Hannah said.

"Well, the longest quidditch match ever did take three months." Ernie pointed out.

People were getting tired, very tired. Ron Weasley had long since sat down, shivering fiercely as he wrapped several coats and blankets around himself. No one was cheering anymore.

The players were faring even worse. Flying around on a broom in the stiff winds and bitter cold was not an enjoyable experience. The Weasley twins were no longer even attempting to hit the bludgers, arms so tired that they couldn't even lift them up. Both teams were practically just hovering in the air. Cedric and Neville were both quite frustrated, looking around in desperation but unable to find the snitch anywhere. The only person who still seemed to be fighting against his exhaustion was Oliver Wood, who's voice was practically gone as he barked orders at his team, orders that were being completely ignored.

Finally, it got to be too much. Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "Do both captains agree to end the match?"

Oliver Wood looked defiantly to his Hufflepuff counterpart, who nodded enthusiastically, and Hooch blew her whistle once more. "Game ends under rule sixty-three, Gryffindor wins on goals!"

There were barely any cheers. It was as if there'd been no winner at all, and everyone was just glad to be able to return to the castle.

"I've never seen that happen before." Susan said.

"Hogwarts snitches are supposed to keep slowing down as the hours pass, make them easier to catch." Ernie said. "I understand Longbottom, but how could Cedric not catch it?"

"Whatever, I don't care, lets just get back into the castle." Daphne said. She looked to Harry, noticing that he was fiddling with something. "What's that you got in your hand?"

"Huh? Oh, this? Just the little gold thingy."

The others gasped as the boy held up the game snitch, which was fluttering desperately in his palm, trying to escape from his grip, only its wings seemed to have been taped to its body, and parts of its insides were hanging out.

"Oh, Merlin, that poor thing!" Hannah exclaimed.

Harry looked at her in confusion. "Its not alive, is it?"

"Still."

"Harry, how long have you had this?" Susan asked.

Harry shrugged. "I caught it right around when the stands collapsed."

"You had it from that early in the match?!"

The boy shrugged again, absently picking at one of the snitch's wings. "Can we go inside now? Its getting really cold."