Harry Potter and the Battle of the Age

"And I think we should leave that last play we were working on for the next game--it's a bit tricky and I think we should get a little more comfortable with it, okay?"

Rachel had been teaching Ginny and Alex a very fast-paced play that would probably stun opponents, but Alex was having a bit of trouble keeping up and Ginny sometimes got lost in the order of the passes. They would need another practice or two before they were smooth enough to use it for games.

"Okay," Rachel said reluctantly. Harry turned to Colin, who was abnormally quiet and looked petrified.

"And Colin... I'm counting on you and Sam to flatten them if things aren't going well..."

Sam chuckled and patted his bat fondly, and Colin managed a weak smile.

Dean Thomas had volunteered to be commentator for the Quidditch games that year, and Harry soon heard his voice booming over the cheers of the crowd.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen..."

"And Slytherins..." Ron added in an undertone.

"...to the first Quidditch match of the year--Gryffindor at Ravenclaw!" Dean yelled slowly and grandly. It being a big game, the entire school was probably outside watching. Harry felt a small flutter of excitement in his chest, the familiar feelings and sensations of Quidditch rushing back to him. It was hard to be stressed when the game was about to begin.

"Please put your hands together for the starting Gryffindor team--Captain and Seeker, Potter!"

Harry strode out to the centre of the field, grinning, amidst cheers and a few faint boos from the Slytherin section.

"Chasers, Connor... Weasley... Hewson... Beaters, McLaggen... Creevey... and Keeper Weasley the Elder!"

Harry's team lined up behind him as Dean called the Ravenclaw team.

"Captain and Keeper Douglass... Chasers, Andrews... Peterson... Greene... Beaters, Hanson and Kinnet... and Seeker Flaherty!"

Harry shook hands with the Ravenclaw Captain, a steady dark-haired boy named Robert Douglass. Then, at Madam Hooch's whistle, they all kicked off and Rachel took the Quaffle.

"Connor with the Quaffle, pass to new Chaser Alex Hewson, heading up the field... oh, nice Bludger from, ah, Hanson, I think, Hewson's dropped it, caught by... Weasley, Weasley of Gryffindor and she's going for goal--or not, pass intercepted by Greene and he's got it to Peterson, Peterson to Andrews, back to Greene, up to Peterson; he's going to shoot--Pow! Blocked by Weasley, the other one, and it's back to centre field..."

The first goal of the year was put in neatly by Rachel, amid thunderous cheers from the Gryffindor section especially. Unfortunately, that was their only bit of good luck for quite a while. As Harry watched from above, looking like a hawk for the Snitch, Ginny dropped the ball just in front of the goalposts and it was snatched away by a Ravenclaw Chaser, who managed to get past Ron for their first goal. Then Rachel passed to Hewson just a bit too hard, and he missed. It was caught by another Ravenclaw Chaser, but he tried to feint like Harry had warned about and Ron blocked the goal. Then a well-placed Bludger nearly unseated Ginny and she dropped the Quaffle again. Will Peterson grabbed it and put it through Ron's left hoop, as he had started to drift to one side, an unfortunate tendency of his. Another Ravenclaw, Greene, nearly made another goal but was knocked around by Colin's own Bludgers. He lost the Quaffle; Hewson snatched it and passed immediately to Rachel, and she sped toward Douglass. It finally looked as though their luck may change, Rachel was face-to-face with the Keeper, and the crowds hushed... but Rachel took just a second too long lining up her shot, and it was caught by Douglass. She looked furious with herself as she took her place in the centre of the field. Harry continued to soar above; he saw something glinting a few times, but it turned out to be a medallion around one of the opposing Beaters' necks. He groaned as Ravenclaw made another goal in minutes, then another. Finally, Rachel got the Quaffle again. Harry saw her glance to her right and signal Ginny. Ginny looked hesitant but followed her. Harry thought he knew what she was doing... surely not...

Rachel was now rather far to the left of the field, with Ginny in the centre. Alex Hewson saw what they were doing and positioned himself on the far right. As they sped toward the goals, they went into a Hawkshead formation--an arrow shape. They were doing exactly what Harry had told them not to. Rachel and Alex began to go higher, passing between themselves.

"You better pull this off, Rachel..." Harry muttered to himself.

Alex suddenly dropped the ball to Ginny, which startled the other Chasers and made them dive lower to intercept. Ginny quickly passed it back up to Alex, who barely touched it before giving it to Rachel, who had sped around back to the far side of the goalpost. Douglass had seen her and followed her. The Ravenclaw Chasers were all following the Quaffle instead of staying man-to-man, which they were beginning to see would be more effective. Rachel passed back to Alex just as swiftly, who dropped it to Ginny--who missed it. Alex was too far to the left over her. Ginny dove but it was too late; Peterson was already halfway across the field. Harry cursed as he made another goal, since Ginny couldn't keep up with him. He signalled to Madam Hooch for a time-out.

"What was that?" he yelled angrily at Rachel as soon as she touched the ground.

"If Ginny had caught it, one more pass and we would have scored--Douglass was all over me; he'd never have seen Alex go for it!"

"Well, she didn't, Rachel, because you put Alex above her--he was supposed to go in your spot; you're a quicker shot and should have been over Ginny!"

"I was boxed in; we had to do it like that..."

"I told you not to do it at all!"

If Ginny had caught the ball, she would have risen to the level Rachel and Alex were at. Alex would have gone to the other goalpost and they could have scored, with the Ravenclaw Chasers, confused, still on Ginny, but Alex and Rachel close on both sides of the goalposts and Douglass distracted. Rachel looked away for a moment and said,

"I made a judgment call, all right, I figured we're behind anyway and a goal would help us--you've seen them, they all cluster when you go to shoot; a confusion manoeuvre like this is perfect for that..."

"But we can't do it yet, and now because of your judgment call they've got another goal!"

Rachel's expression hardened and she glared back at Harry. There was silence. Harry shook his head to clear it.

"Okay--try doing some Hawkshead and fast passing, that worked pretty well," Harry said, addressing Ginny and Alex. They nodded dumbly. "And good work with the Bludger--more of that, okay? Pound them whenever they get the Quaffle; that's legal." Colin also nodded and Sam winked. "Ron--good job, but watch your centre hoop; you're drifting just a bit."

"Yeah, okay."

"Ready to resume play?" Madam Hooch asked.

"Yes--Rachel, lead them in some diversionary tactics, simpler ones," Harry said, just a little guilty for yelling at her. "Can you do that?"

"Of course I can," Rachel snapped, taking her broomstick to kick off.

Harry glowered at her and said to the rest of the team, "Only forty points in it, right, just a few goals--let's go!"

Harry kept watching for the Snitch as the team went back into play. To her credit, even an angry Rachel was a good shot. Some straightforward diversionary moves Harry had suggested worked well, and Colin and Sam became absolute madmen with their bats. Gryffindor scored a few times and Ron blocked all opponent shots but one.

"Sixty-forty to Ravenclaw, but the Gryffindors are coming back to life," Dean boomed. "No sight of the Snitch yet; this game's been all Quaffle work so far--maybe soon we'll get to see another Potter dive, or Flaherty of Ravenclaw will get to show his stuff. And it's Weasley with the Quaffle!"

Suddenly, Harry froze. He saw the Snitch--it was flitting about near centre field, slightly closer to the Ravenclaw side. The he saw that Flaherty noticed him pause, and began looking furiously on the ground under Harry. Reacting before his thoughts were totally processed, Harry dove straight down and Flaherty followed him. The crowd was yelling and all eyes were on them. Harry held himself steadily until he was feet from the ground, and feet to the left of the Snitch. Sharply as he could, he turned and heard Flaherty crash into the field; he stretched his hand out to the Snitch directly in front of him and soon felt the cool metal in his hand.

"A brilliant Wronski Feint by Potter, and that's the game!" Dean yelled over the cheering. "Two hundred and fifty points to Gryffindor, final score two-ninety to sixty..."

"Are you all right?" Harry asked Eric Flaherty, who nodded grimly but shook his hand in a sportsman-like manner.

"Nice one, Harry!" Ron shouted, slapping him on the back.

"First game of the year, ours!" Ginny said gleefully.

"Wow, that was great, Harry!" said Colin, squeaky with excitement once more. "Gosh, Quidditch is so fast, and those Bludgers can just knock you to the ground, huh..."

Colin's voice faded into background chatter. Harry congratulated his team one by one, until Rachel was standing in front of him. Neither of them said anything.

"Nice catch," Rachel said quietly, looking at the ground. Harry's annoyance had vanished in the thrill of the win.

"Thanks," he said. "And thanks for the goals."

"Yeah..." she shrugged.

As was the custom, the party in Gryffindor Tower lasted for hours and Harry completely ignored his homework.

***

Rachel was stubbornly quiet for the night, but by the next day, their clash was fairly forgotten--especially in the face of hardship, namely, a surprise Potions quiz.

"Perhaps this will be something of an incentive for you all to get your homework finished..." Snape said quietly, glaring at Harry. Harry sighed and leaned forward as the stack of quizzes made its way up their row. But the boy in front of Harry turned and shook his head--there weren't enough to go around. Harry raised his hand.

"Professor," he said. "We need another--"

"No talking during the test," Snape shot at him before moving toward his desk. Before Harry could say anything Rachel leaned calmly across the aisle and placed her sheet on his desk. She raised her hand, too, and when Snape ignored her, said,

"Sir? We're one short." Snape stared at her spitefully for a few moments, then said softly,

"I said no talking, Connor. And move to your desk."

Rachel slowly gathered her things and walked to the front row. Harry thought he heard her mutter, "Grow up..."

"Did you say something?" Snape shot dangerously.

"No, sir," Rachel said composedly, looking straight ahead.

"You had better not..." Snape hissed.

Determined not to give the professor any satisfaction, Harry concentrated hard on the quiz. Assuming Snape didn't simply throw it away, or ignore it, he thought he had passed. As the class left after the bell, Harry slipped his arm around Rachel just as the door closed in front of Snape. She smiled.

After Charms, Harry was waiting with Ron and Rachel outside Hermione's Arithmancy class, talking about nothing in particular. The classroom was at the foot of the staircase that also led to the tower Professor Trelawney held her classes in. This was just drifting over Harry's mind when, as if he had conjured her, Trelawney herself appeared, looking batty as ever, at the foot of the steps.

"Why, good afternoon, my dears... I am glad our paths have had the fortune to cross again, since we were denied the pleasure of each other's company after the term ended..."

Harry dimly wondered if she remembered them in her class. He hadn't been under the impression neither they nor the teacher had found it much fun. He and Ron merely nodded politely and muttered some awkward greetings.

"I hope you have had fortunate summers as we have been apart?"

Harry was in mid-nod when she said dramatically,

"Oh, there is no need for a brave face, my dear boy... I can see death in your eyes, ever-present in your young life, casting even stronger shadows over your soul..."

Trelawney's magnified eyes looked tragic. Rachel stared. Harry was more irritated than ever by her stupid antics.

"My soul's been fine, thanks," he said shortly, and jerked his shoulder away from her hand. Trelawney gave a small moan of sympathy, to Harry's further annoyance.

"Do not hold your pain inside and let it dissolve you away, let your friends reach out to you--"

Someone cleared their throat and Trelawney turned. Firenze the centaur, looking rather odd in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor, said calmly,

"Sibyll--perhaps we ought to begin working on a lesson plan as we had planned."

"Oh, yes... yes... may your fortunes never fade, Harry... Ronald... ah... girl..."

Firenze nodded to them and left with Trelawney in tow, talking about getting to fire symbols before Christmas break. Rachel looked even more bewildered. Harry shook his head at Trelawney's back.

"Harry, tell us the truth, mate," Ron said suddenly. "Is the anger and sadness you hold inside slowly dissolving your heart and mind and... lungs, and... spleen..."

"Yeah, that's right," Harry grinned, as the door opened and the Arithmancy class finally spilled out.

Chapter Eight

Couples' Troubles

November rolled over Hogwarts with both a flurry of early snow and a flurry of homework for the seventh years. They were beginning to feel the pressure of N.E.W.T.s, a pressure which manifested itself in many different ways, from Ron and Hermione's constant bickering to Rachel nearly murdering a second year who somehow caused a very delicate potion recipe she was testing to explode all over the common room as it simmered. Harry had never seen her yell like that before.

Harry had additional responsibilities to bear, as Head Boy and Captain of the Quidditch team. He was already supervising three study halls a week and helping Professor McGonagall manage and organize the prefects and their duties. Then there was practice, which he was forced to increase to three evenings a week as well when Slytherin beat the Hufflepuff team and took first place in the race to the Quidditch Cup. He didn't really want to think about the end of the year, with N.E.W.T. studies on top of all this.

Day-to-day, however, Harry would occasionally have a few pockets of time for himself. He was sitting one afternoon on the sofa in front of the fireplace in the common room with Rachel, not talking much and looking forward to the weekend. Rachel finished a letter to Chris and Ian and put it aside, then leaned back into the cushions and, with a sigh, let every muscle in her body go limp. Harry laughed.

"Tired?"

Rachel mumbled an affirmative noise. Harry put his arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, Ron's already put up a countdown to Christmas break in our room--there are only thirty-eight more days. That's just over four weeks..."

Rachel looked up at him and raised her eyebrows.

"Five weeks, Harry..." she said. Harry stared into the fire and didn't say anything. She laughed.

"Hey, I'm tired, too!" he protested. "Oh, shut it; it's not that funny..."

"Alright... hey, Emily!" Rachel called and waved to the second-year girl. She gave a quick and nervous smile before fleeing upstairs to her room. Rachel cringed and turned her face to Harry's chest.

"Oh, I scared her..." she said, half laughing and half shamed. "I've apologized eight times and the poor thing still thinks I'm going to rip her head off..."

"Well, that was the impression you sent..." Harry teased, stroking her hair. "At least the underclassman will listen to you now. You've got them scared into submission."

Rachel made a small noise of protest and beat her fist gently on Harry's shoulder. They lay for a few minutes in the warmth of the fire. He was very comfortable, with the soft glow of heat on his face and the weight of her head on his chest. Rachel nestled close to him. It was pleasant to simply lean against each other and rest. Harry's eyelids began to droop--before voices carried over to them from the other side of the common room. Ron and Hermione were at it again, and they sounded angry.

"How many people have to tell you this, Hermione, the elves don't even want it... you keep insulting them, and you'll take away their entire lives... remember how upset Winky was when she was dismissed? She's still hitting the Butterbeer from that!"

"So you think they should just stay brainwashed and think that they're blessed and happy running around as slaves?"

Rachel sighed.

"Just let them go on..." Harry said resignedly. Their argument was heating up.

"Come on..." Harry said. "Uh... how are those plays working out? Is Alex getting better?"

Rachel cleared her throat.

"Uh, yeah, he's getting really good at those long passes he had trouble with. We're getting ready for the Slytherin match."
"Even so, Hermione, this is wrong! You're tricking them, with plain outright traps!"

People were starting to leave the common room uncomfortably.

"Good, good... er... how are Chris and Ian doing?"

Rachel didn't even reply. Ron and Hermione were now shouting. Ginny Weasley and a few others kept glancing at Harry.

"Do you think you should tell them to go somewhere private?" Rachel said quietly. "Is that a Head Boy responsibility?" Now it was Harry's turn to sigh.

"I suppose..."

"Fine, Hermione, just go and write it all to Vicky Krum, then..."

Hermione looked bowled over by Ron's dig, but soon recovered.

"Ron--I--I can't believe you still bring this up--I just can't keep having this stupid fight! You know...." She lost the words, then sputtered, "If you'd rather me be with--just... any of the names you always drag up--fine!"

Harry was saved the problem of dividing them as Hermione whipped around and ran up the girls' staircase. Ron stared after her, mouth open. Harry was left standing awkwardly between the sofa and Ron. Finally he, too, turned and went to the boys' dormitory. Harry looked at Ginny, then Rachel.

"Did... they just...?" Rachel trailed off. Harry hesitated, almost going upstairs to talk to Ron, but thought the better of it.

"Give them a while," he said, turning back. "They're just angry."

Ron and Hermione did not even sit near each other that night at dinner. They had had long fights before, and Harry braced himself for another few weeks of awkwardness. Ron hailed Harry before he could sit down, but Rachel looked sympathetically at Hermione, who was sitting, miserably, alone. She split up from the boys and sat with her. Harry did not mind, but Ron looked irritated. He didn't mention it, however, or in fact bring up the thing glaring them all in the faces at all. He and Harry talked about the past week's rumours all during dinner, and left before the girls had finished eating.

Ron seemed to want to keep talking, so Harry followed him up to the dormitory, taking his example and keeping up rather mindless chatting. Soon, however, the conversation lulled. Harry looked up and saw Ron lying listlessly on his bed, tossing into the air repetitively a small knitted version of a Quaffle Hermione had once made him. He caught it again, and, without warning, hurled it violently against the wall. Then he was still. Nobody spoke for several minutes. Harry longed to leave, and thought Ron wanted him too, but didn't know how to without seeming rude. Finally Ron spoke.

"I didn't really bring up Krum that often, did I?"

"I--I dunno, Ron..."

"The bloke is at least four years older than her and a pro Quidditch player; I just wanted to... she was too sensitive," he said, although he didn't sound like he quite believed it. "I never said I didn't trust her, it was him I didn't trust..."

"Tell her," Harry urged.

"No," Ron said flatly. "We had plenty more problems... and they weren't all my fault." With this resentful statement, he grabbed a book from his bedside table, opened it, upside down, and stared at it. Harry got up and left him alone.

***

"Poor Hermione..." Rachel sighed. It was two weeks after their fight, and Harry and Rachel were hurrying through Hogsmeade in the bitter, dry cold, getting to the Three Broomsticks.

"And Ron," Harry said pointedly, looking at Rachel. She looked back at him for a moment.

"And Ron," she said. They walked along for a few moments.

"He wasn't the one who ended it, you know," Harry couldn't stop himself from saying.

"I know," Rachel said, looking at him oddly. They gladly ducked into the steamy doorway of the pub. "I was just saying... she doesn't want to go anywhere, not even around Hogsmeade... and she's even stopped talking about S.P.E.W." They reached the bar and ordered Butterbeers.

"Ron isn't exactly having the time of his life either," Harry replied, taking the drinks to a table and wondering why he felt so defensive. "He's also sitting alone in the dormitory."

"Well, he shouldn't have dragged up ancient history again and slapped her with that whole Viktor Krum mess," Rachel snapped.

"Hey, he's... he's insecure, all right?" Harry said. "He's sorry for that."

"Then why doesn't he tell her?" Rachel's tone was slightly softened.

"He's saying it's just as much her fault as his." Harry sipped his Butterbeer, still a bit tweaked. "Which it is."

Rachel looked like she wanted to say something sharp, but stopped herself. They sat for a while.

"She was getting a bit... controlling," Rachel mused. "I almost said something to her... do you think I should have?"

"It was their business, Raich," Harry tried to reassure her. "You did alright..."

"She just buries herself in her books now; I hardly ever see her... she's not helping herself."

Harry smiled sadly. That was Hermione, all right. Although Ron was his best friend, he had known Hermione for just as long and they had become close. He realized that he missed her, but he hadn't wanted to upset Ron or look like he was taking her side. Harry sighed.

"They were always at loggerheads," he mused unemotionally. "They were just too different... it was bound to happen."

Rachel looked at him, slightly stunned at his pessimism. Then she thought for a moment and sighed, too.

"But if they would just talk... she had to end her friendship with Krum for him, and she really liked him..."

Harry looked up, startled. Ron had been right?

"Not like that," Rachel said quickly. "He was really sweet in his letters, that's all. And she was flattered at first, I mean... he had to have been the only guy who even looked twice at her, and she really wasn't used to that. But then when she said he was too old, he backed off but was still really friendly... that's pretty rare. But then she told him Ron asked her out, and he really didn't like how Ron had treated him, and they ended up just kind of... drifting away. All for Ron."

Harry stared into his Butterbeer. He and Rachel were suddenly both very depressed.

"And now they don't even talk, and we're in this awkward position, and we even fight about them, and the group just kind of... collapsed." Rachel sounded thoroughly miserable. Harry suddenly pushed the dejection out of his mind and touched Rachel's arm.

"Hey, now, come on..." he said. "Don't get like this... come on. I'm going to Zonko's to get Ron something explosive or smelly or dangerous, and you can find some weird book at the bookshop to get Hermione. We'll have fun, and we'll cheer them up."

Rachel looked up at him, startled at how quickly his mood had changed. Then she gave a small smile and said,

"Good idea."

Harry put his arm around her and they went back out into the cold, Harry, at least, leaving his thoughts at the table along with the dregs of their Butterbeer.

***

For another week Harry never saw Ron and Hermione at the same time, but eventually they grew to tolerate each others' presence, which was a relief for Harry and Rachel. They did not speak, however, except for the occasional formal, stiff words. When the Gryffindor team narrowly beat out Slytherin for first place one Friday, Hermione raced onto the field to hug Harry and Rachel, while Ron stood uncomfortably by and pretended to be examining the field lines around the goalposts.

"Er... good saves, Ron..." Hermione muttered.

"Thanks," he said without looking up.

"At least they're talking," Rachel said sadly later.

That evening Harry was talking to Rachel about her shooting, which was growing truly amazing. He was excited for the Cup playoffs, and was already preparing plays sometimes between essays to write and star charts to fill. Rachel had grabbed a scrap of parchment out of her pocket to scribble her idea for a scoring play when a large barn owl swooped down on her, even though owls normally deliver post in the mornings. The owl, which bore a leather collar with the seal of the Hogsmeade post office, hooted once in a dignified manner and swept away.

"What's it say?" Harry asked.

"It's from the post office," Rachel said, sounding confused. "It's a letter saying I've got a letter..."

"Oh, they'll do that for insured letters; very important things," Hermione volunteered. "Instead of sending them straight to the castle, they'll send them through the post office, just in case... who would you get an insured letter from?"

"I have no idea..." Rachel muttered, looking on the back of the letter, in case there was a postscript telling her. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

"Unless... oh my god..."

"What?" Harry said urgently. "Is everything okay?"

"I--yes, I think... or... I don't know..."

"You sound like Hermione..." Harry said, then added quickly, "There's a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow, you can find out then... unless that's too long?" She looked far too anxious to wait. "Maybe McGonagall will give you special permission to go now for the letter--it's only eight-thirty."

"It's dark, though..." Hermione said. Ron almost said something but seemed to decide against it.

"Besides, I need permission from the person watching the gate... it's usually Filtch, right?"

"It's Snape," Harry groaned. "He's always there when we leave, remember? He tries to take points from Gryffindor at every turn and keep us from going..."

Rachel gave an annoyed sigh and looked up at the staff table.

"They close at nine, right? And McGonagall's already left... it could take ages to track her down..."

Harry could plainly see her coming to a decision.

"Oh, Rachel, going that far out-of-bounds after dark is a really serious... what's in this letter?" Hermione asked. Harry looked her in the eye.

"Is it that important? Can you wait until tomorrow?" Rachel looked back at him; for some reason she looked almost terrified. She finally shook her head. Harry sighed.

"I'll wait for you."

Hermione fingered her Head Girl badge nervously, but looked at Rachel's face and let them be.

"You sneak out that side door by the main entrance. Once you're out of bounds you can Apparate to the post office and then back to the gate. You'll be gone five minutes... I'll wait out in the entrance hall as long as I can."

"Thanks, Harry... if it starts getting too late, don't get in trouble for me... oh, maybe I should just wait until tomorrow... but I've been waiting since July, and they wouldn't bother sending an insured letter if... they just... would they? Maybe it isn't not that important..."

"Go!" Harry said, as they reached the entrance hall. Rachel shot out the small side door where Hagrid usually brought first years and Harry waited.

Ron and Hermione hadn't come, as it would look strange for the three of them to be standing around the emptying entrance hall after classes. Harry blended into the crowds milling around, heading to common rooms or the library. The minutes stretched ridiculously. What had Rachel been so concerned about?

Soon the crowds dispersed and Harry was left standing oddly in the middle of the hall. It was not past curfew, but it would obvious, if Rachel was caught coming in, that he was waiting for her. On a flash of inspiration, Harry went halfway up the staircase to Gryffindor Tower and sat on the step with his Transfiguration book, looking like he had only chosen an unusual place to study.

He heard a creak, and then hurried footsteps. Rachel wisely did not call his name. Harry waited until she came into view, then tripped down the stairs like he was just coming down. Rachel, snow clinging to her hair and cloak, saw him and smiled hugely.

"Good news?" Harry asked, his curiosity nearly at breaking point.

"You won't believe... I can't believe..." Rachel's smile was too great for her to speak, apparently.

"What?"

Rachel looked at him until the suspense made him want to shout, and then it spilled out.

"I'm--I'm actually going to play for the Kenmare Kestrels!"

Harry stared at her.

"What--you mean you got on a professional Quidditch team?"

Rachel's story poured out. Harry saw a letter in her hand with a stylized blue kestrel streaking across the top.

"I tried out over the summer, after Moran retired... but I never thought I could really do this... what was I thinking? I can't do this!" Rachel's eyes grew large and panicked once more, but her smile stayed firmly in place.

"They took until now to get back to you?"

"Well, I'm not on until next season, you know, after the Cup this summer... and they'll want to train me first, after that... I can't believe I'm going to play with Bridget Mullet... son of a Bludger, I'm not good enough to play with Bridget Mullet... and Ryan an-and Troy, and Lynch..."

Harry was almost as disbelieving as she was, but not about her skills.

"Raich, you're the most brilliant Chaser I've ever seen... you've got to be the youngest player ever to get on a professional team!"
"No, that was Nikoff Jehonovitch... in Poland, in, er... 1962, I think... he was fifteen..."

"Well--still! You're going to play pro Quidditch!" Harry said slowly, pounding the thought into both their minds.

Rachel's incredulity had finally robbed her of speech. She stood and twitched slightly until Harry, hugging her, picked her up playfully and spun her around. She laughed and he kissed her joyfully, until--

"POTTER! CONNOR!"

Harry set Rachel down hastily. Snape was sweeping toward them, looking almost sick with fury. Harry could already see the vein in his temple pulsing.

"Show some decency in this school, or I'll have your badge and as many points from Gryffindor as I can--" Snape paused his livid threats for an instant and reached out toward Rachel's still-snowy cloak. Rachel winced.

"Have you been outdoors? That's out of bounds, Connor!" he shot at her, even angrier. Rachel, again, couldn't find the words.

"Where were you?"

Rachel swallowed and said,

"I needed to get something."

"What?"

Rachel seemed to realize she had no books or papers she could claim she had left out in the snow.

"Tell me, or we go straight to the Headmaster!"

Rachel closed her eyes, either thundering at herself for her stupidity or bracing herself for Snape.

"A letter," she said quietly, avoiding Snape's eyes.

"A letter?" Snape looked confused. "An owl would bring--you were at Hogsmeade?" he shouted as he realized what she must have meant. He seemed to be looking for the angry words to say to her first. Then, a sinister smile spread across his face, which Harry and Rachel found even more intimidating.

"Then there is only one punishment for being so far out of bounds so late," he said sleekly. "You are banned from any future Hogsmeade trips, and you will spend the next week's evenings in detention with me."

Rachel looked stunned. Harry was infuriated; he knew what Snape was doing.

"And thirty points will be taken from Gryffindor. Plus," he said, his lip curling as his eyes swept over Harry as well, "A further thirty for the unashamed spectacle you too were putting on."

Rachel's cheeks turned bright red and Harry started to protest; this was so unfair.

"You can't be serious; we were only--"

"Do you want another thirty for whatever stupid thing is about to come out of your mouth, Potter?"

"Professor--"

"Silence!"

"--we just kissed," Rachel said steadily, her eyes locked on Snape's. She knew what that would do to him. Snape looked ready to hit her, or possibly Harry.

"Both of you get up to your dormitories or it will be fifty," he spat. "You're both restricted to your own rooms tonight and I assure you Professor McGonagall will be checking on you. Go now."

There was nothing for Harry and Rachel to do but leave, although the look on Snape's face when Rachel said the word kissed was very satisfying. Harry took her hand as they walked up the staircase. Suddenly he slammed onto the marble stairs and leapt up, cursing, but Snape and his stupid Trip Jinxes had left.

"He just banned me because he can't stand that we go out there..." Rachel muttered angrily as they neared the Fat Lady. "God, look around this school; I could do a hell of a lot worse than you..."

"Thanks," he said dryly. "Also if I was ever fresh with you you'd hit me..." he added as an afterthought. "Which hurts, according to Malfoy."

Harry tried to make her laugh and not think about Hogsmeade. It didn't work.

"And it felt great that he didn't care about the letter that had to be sent to me by post office... you know, that could've well been from St. Mungo's telling me Ian was in trouble or Chris was hurt doing Order duty or something..."

Harry looked up.

"Not like I expected anything else," she added evenly. They gave the password ("Owl droppings") and Rachel scooped up Sprite, lowering herself onto an ottoman in front of the fire.

"We aren't splitting up, are we?" Harry checked. Rachel scoffed.

"Let McGonagall come if she's going to..."