Harry Potter and the Battle of the Age

Chapter Thirteen

Trelawney's Third Prediction

By the time Harry managed to track down one of the Chasers who had tried out at the beginning of the year, the story of how Rachel had lashed out at Snape (and how he had punished her) was common knowledge. Rachel slipped into dinner just as the rest of the school was finishing, among some angry calls from the Gryffindors. Glaring at a fifth year asked her loudly why she wanted to sabotage their team, she slid in next to Harry, but shook her head.

"I couldn't reach McGonagall to ask for help," she said. "It'll have to wait until after dinner."

And without further ado, she leaned across the table and started drawing out her famous play for Euan Abercrombie, the third year who would take her place if she couldn't play. He looked sick with apprehension. This did not help Harry's nerves.

When Euan took a moment to study the magically moving arrows on Rachel's scrap of parchment, she took a piece of bread and turned to Harry, saying wearily,

"Snape found me in the corridor and said he'd meet me in front of the Great Hall after breakfast... I don't even want to think about what I'm going to have to do..."

Harry glanced up at the staff table to try and gauge the Deputy Headmistress' disposition. He couldn't tell what she was thinking about, but her mouth had gone suspiciously thin... perhaps Snape had already gloated about the foul temper of her team's lead Chaser; it seemed like something he would do...

When Harry, Rachel, and Euan left the Great Hall that evening, now accompanied by Ginny and Ron, who were also very concerned about the next day, what seemed hugely important to them was soon put sharply into perspective in a way they never expected.

Rachel was explaining to Ginny how to take over her part in a number of tactics, and how to lead Euan. She was talking quickly, about to approach Professor McGonagall. Ron was just expressing his eagerness to get on the field when something caught Harry's eye. A group seemed to be congregating at the foot of the stairs leading to the next floor, reminding him of the night Professor Umbridge, his fifth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and 'High Inquisitor of Hogwarts', had tried to fire Professor Trelawney. As if to reinforce this image, he saw Trelawney herself at the foot of the stairs. She was saying something he couldn't catch, and stumbling around--was she drunk? But as he neared her and put up a hand to silence the others, he noticed her eyes were beginning to roll back and she was quaking.

"Dumbledore--Dumbledore! Must speak to... I can see it--Headmaster!"

"She's going to take herself out of the trance!" Parvati Patil squealed from the edge nearest to Trelawney.

"Trance?" Ron repeated incredulously.

"Someone get the Headmaster!" Harry shouted to the crowd, which was growing rapidly as the students emptied the Hall. "Hurry!"

Neville Longbottom suddenly found his feet and raced off toward the great doors leading to the Hall, but there was no need. Professor Dumbledore, followed by Lupin, McGonagall, and Snape, was suddenly striding through the same doors.

"Sibyll," he called, his deep voice silencing all the fluttering cries of the students. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

Trelawney stumbled toward him, eyes half-closed, seeming like she was only partially in control of herself. She was stammering, "The--battle--the battle of the age--" The students around her parted and gave her a wide berth. Suddenly, she stopped.

"IT IS COMING," she said, in a harsh voice Harry had heard her use, in person, only once before. Her eyes finally rolled all the way back, while those of her audience all locked on her.

"THE BATTLE OF THE AGE IS APPROACHING... SIGNS... SIGNS WILL TELL! WHEN THE GIRL ENRAPTURED CRIES TEARS OF BLOOD, AND OTHER YOUNG LOVERS GIVE A FINAL EMBRACE... THE BELL WILL SOUND AND THE BATTLE WILL BEGIN! THE VERY BATTLE--TO FULFIL THE CHOSEN ONE'S PROPHECY! TAKE YOUR EXAMPLE FROM BRAVE YOUNG ONES...WE MUST UNITE, OR EVERY ONE OF US SHALL FALL. EVEN THOUGH OUR CORNERSTONE MAY CRUMBLE... THOUGH WE LOSE OUR FOUNDATION WE MUST REMAIN STRONG! THE BATTLE WILL BE ALL-ENCOMPASSING AND TERRIBLE, AT OUR VERY REFUGE, THEN AT THE ROOM OF LIGHT... AND IT WILL NOT END UNTIL THE DARK SIRE CLASPS HIS FAIR SCION... TO SHOW THAT EARLIER PROPHESIES HAVE BEEN FULFILLED... THE BATTLE TO DECIDE THE AGE... ... SIGNS WILL TELL... THE BATTLE... DRAWS NEAR..."

Suddenly Trelawney's head snapped up and she cried in her normal voice,

"Dumbledore!"

Harry and Rachel looked at each other. Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Everyone in the entryway looked at their neighbour. Professor Trelawney looked around, confused.

"I... I needed to say something..." she said uncertainly, her voice again a mystical quaver. "It was important..."

"Yes, Sibyll, you already have," Dumbledore said calmly. Trelawney looked thunderstruck.

"I--ah, yes... my... my pleasure Headmaster," Professor Trelawney sounded almost as flabbergasted as she looked, but then managed to regain some semblance of her otherworldly, ethereal self. She seemed to be hastily trying to appear competent and on top of everything, when Harry knew for a fact that she had no idea what she had just said. "Perhaps you would like me to help interpret what I have seen; I wish to make the future ever clearer once I have revealed it..."

"My thanks, Sibyll, but you were quite lucid; no interpretations are necessary, this time." Dumbledore's tone was light enough, but his demeanour grave. Trelawney looked somewhat disappointed.

"Students--students!" Dumbledore called to the crowd, calmly but with urgency. "Please, your attention... thank you... I realize what you have just heard may alarm or frighten you--" Trelawney looked all the more dignified and significant--"...but I beg you not to trouble yourselves so. I assure you, we have known of a war being fought for nearly three years now, and wars are made up of battles... please remember my assurances at the beginning of the school year. You are safe at Hogwarts." The Headmaster pronounced this last sentence slowly and evenly, and glanced around the hall, seeming to be personally reassuring each member of the school.

"There are many things happening around us, but that does not necessarily mean it applies to each and every one of you personally. Please do not panic. I will try to explain more to you later, but for now it is of extreme importance that I alert certain people about what has just transpired... for now, please go about your business."

The students all looked at each other again, perplexed and unnerved by the sudden change from mundane to extraordinary, than back again. Dumbledore, however, began moving as soon as he finished speaking.

"Harry," he said in a low voice. "I think you should come with me. Yes... you three as well. I think it is time you began being informed of things."

Harry's heart constricted sharply at this. Motioning to Ron, Hermione, and Rachel, he followed Dumbledore quickly down the corridor to his office, then, in a rush, through the gargoyle-guarded door and up the ascending staircase. Dumbledore headed straight to the window of his office, threw it open, and shot a wisp of silver from the tip of his wand swooping toward the ground.

"Hagrid will be here shortly," he explained. "After I instruct him, I am going to go to Thedon and brief him, and obtain a copy of that prediction for further study... or proof, if it is required. Minervera--" his light blue eyes alighted on the Deputy Headmistress, who raised her chin sharply in attention. "I would like you to advise the rest of the faculty as you see fit, especially about keeping Sibyll safely away. You know what to do. After that, kindly assist Lupin in his task. Remus, if you would get the word out to the rest of the Order, by any way you see fit. Use the Weasley Twins' shop, Portkey letters, Headquarters... any and all means necessary. Then contact Bill Weasley and that group; tell them about the unity portion of the prophecy and have them make the proper plans and contacts--I assume I do not need to tell you to exercise a most extreme caution?"

Lupin nodded keenly.

"And Severus..." Snape looked at Dumbledore, sharp-eyed and tight-lipped. "You know what you must do... no one can find out about this one. And if you manage to overhear a plan... wonderful. But if not... I know how hard it is. Whenever you are prepared... check all of your sources." Snape also gave a short nod, and strode toward the door.

"And Severus?"

He turned back.

"Tread very lightly," Dumbledore said soberly, locking his eyes on Snape. No one spoke for several seconds.

"I will," Snape said shortly. Then he was gone, with a swish of his cloak. Rachel watched the door for a second when it swung shut, then turned back to Dumbledore. Lupin and McGonagall were just leaving when Hagrid appeared in the doorway.

'"What happened?" he cried, his eyes sweeping over Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel, before fixing his attention on Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid, but there's not much time," Dumbledore began. "Professor Trelawney has made another prediction. She said a battle was coming--the 'battle of the age'. She stressed the importance of uniting. Can you tell me where the centaurs currently stand on assisting us?"

"They're still awfully divided, sir," Hagrid replied, a worried frown creasing his forehead. "We've still got a fair number wantin' to help us, but Magorian and them keep draggin' some o' those back to their side o' the debate..."

Dumbledore sighed.

"If this battle is as big as Sibyll says it is, they must see it in the stars. I want you to go and tell them about the prediction," he said, then added, "Although I want to accompany you, it may be a while before I am freed... perhaps you should wait for me, centaur feelings toward you right now being what they are. Then I can explain even further on the way." As he spoke, Dumbledore turned to a cabinet and took out a familiar stone basin, placing it on his desk. "Please excuse me--I must record this while it is fresh in my mind..."

Dumbledore put his wand to his temple and stored the memory in the Pensieve.

"Here," he motioned to it. "Hagrid, you can look at it if you wish, to prepare yourself for the meeting..."

Hagrid nodded and took the Pensieve. The sounds of the prophecy filled the room as Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"Harry, I need you to do something for me," Dumbledore said, just as he had ordered his other Order members. "And you too, Hermione. All of you, in fact."

Harry and his friends all stood a little straighter as the headmaster instructed them.

"As seventh years, and especially as prefects and Head Boy and Girl, I need you to look after the younger students. Listen to me--this is important. Rumours are going to fly; they're probably going to be confused and frightened... I need you to try and keep the school under control while I'm gone. Calm their fears as best you can, get their minds focused on everyday things... Can you do this for me?"

Harry nodded seriously.

"And Harry--I think you should probably fill them in on some details of the prophecy, if you haven't already."

Harry glanced at his best friends, and nodded again.

"I will talk to you about this... what it means... I promise. But for now I need you to put it aside and help me."

"I will."

Dumbledore smiled quickly at Harry. For a moment, he looked, for some reason, like a proud grandfather. Harry didn't know why that occurred to him, but he was suddenly inflated with the fact that he had made Dumbledore proud. He would take care of Hogwarts for him.

"Oh--Headmaster!" he called, after Dumbledore had made his hasty farewells and thanks to the others and hurried with Hagrid to his urgent business. "The centaurs--if they start getting... er... hostile--try mentioning, ah..."

He turned and muttered in Rachel's ear,

"What was the name of that centaur--that young centaur you helped?"

"Taran," she said, after a half-second's thought.

"Taran's friend," Harry finished. "They're pretty serious about keeping their word..."

Dumbledore and Hagrid both gave Harry a slightly puzzled look, then Dumbledore nodded.

"That may come in handy, thank you."

Then the office door closed and he was gone. There was a hesitant silence for a few moments. Hermione was the one who broke it.

"Harry--what was Dumbledore saying, about, er... filling us in?"

Harry looked at her, then Ron and Rachel. They each had different measures of apprehension, expectation, and morbid curiosity written in their expressions. Harry took a deep breath.

"Remember in fifth year, at the Department of Mysteries?" he began. "Have I told you, Raich?"

"Yeah," she breathed. Ron and Hermione leaned a bit closer. Harry faltered, then went on quickly. It was time to talk about it.

"It turns out there was... there was a prediction made about me, just before I was born...."

Harry spoke about the terms of the prophecy, how he had learned about it, and what Dumbledore reasoned from it for nearly a quarter of an hour. When he finished, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel were all dumbstruck, staring at him while trying to digest this new information. Harry blinked. Finally, Ron spoke.

"So... so this prediction says that... you and You-Know--all right, Voldemort... you and him have to... fight?"

"Yeah."

"Because..."

"Because I apparently have 'powers the Dark Lord does not know', or something like that."

"And one of you has to... to, um..."

"Kill the other, yes."

Harry had had two years to face this fact, and was beginning to accept it. His struggle was now how to prepare himself to engage Voldemort, one-on-one, to stop him. But when he had first heard the terms of the prophecy, it had been coming to terms with the fact that he would have to kill--or be killed. Even now he didn't like to dwell on it. Ron, Hermione, and Rachel, on the other hand, had just been presented with the bare truth. None of them knew what to say.

"It's alright--look," he said. "It's happened before, me and Voldemort, I mean... I've done it before. It's just that next time... I can get rid of him... for good."

Harry allowed a half-grin at the thought.

"Hey, Voldemort gone forever... that's great, right? And if it's my job to get rid of him... and sometime soon, apparently... then..." He shrugged.

"I'm going to do it."

Ron's cheeks puffed as he let out a breath. Rachel closed her eyes. Hermione ran her hand through her hair.

"The 'Chosen One', eh?" Ron said, grinning slightly. "Might catch on as a cool nickname..."

Hermione smiled liplessly. Rachel gave a weak laugh.

"Sorry we're so out of sorts, mate..." Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just a bit much to take in, you know..."

Harry looked at him for a moment, a genuine smile growing on his face.

"Yeah... no--no problem..."

"Hey, if you can handle everything like this..." Rachel said, shaking her head slightly in wonder.

"Yes," Hermione said briskly. "If anyone can handle himself in front of--trouble--it's Harry, and even fate or whatever it is is telling us he'll be the one who can face Voldemort."

His gaze shifted to her.

"Thanks..."

"Anyway, it's--it's not like he's going to do it alone," Ron said confidently. "Well, not until the very end, anyway... he's got the entire Order helping him, and all the Ministry Aurors... and us."

"Definitely."

"Of course." Rachel took his hand lightly. Harry looked around the circle the four of them formed, something stirring in his chest. He swallowed. They could all feel it--something huge was going to happen, something deadly. It was all going to begin soon. He held Rachel's hand a little tighter. He did feel the confidence, or sense of duty, or whatever it was that he had conveyed to the others, but the tiny, truthful place deep in him knew that he was still scared. He wasn't a skinny little boy anymore, but he was still a seventeen year old kid, not out of school, not--unacquainted with the world of dark magic, but hardly as aware and experienced against it as Moody had been, or Lupin, or Dumbledore himself. What was this power he had that Voldemort couldn't reach? If he didn't even know what it was, how could he possibly use it to defeat such power and knowledge, such determination as Voldemort? And so soon?

Harry took a shivering breath. He had the ability--the prophecy said so. He could face Voldemort--and he would. And whatever happened, it would be his purpose. Was he looking at the end of his life...? He didn't know. If this was the reason he was alive, would he be disposable once Voldemort was gone--why shouldn't he die with Voldemort, or by Voldemort's hand, if fighting him was all he was born for? Harry's chosen profession sprung to his mind. The world would not be somehow purged of evil because Voldemort was gone. There were his followers, 'some almost as powerful as Voldemort himself', and others... he could still take care of them. He could continue to protect people. This was going to be what he did with his life--during the fight with Voldemort, and after--because he that's what he chose to use his life for. The prophecy was merely observing; this was who Harry was, what he did. And whatever happened... he would have Ron. He would have Hermione. He would have Rachel, always. He felt a rush of gratitude that he could face everything with them, and others, holding him up.

"Thanks..." he murmured, wishing he really could describe to them what was whirling around his head right now. By their expressions, they seemed to understand him anyway. Harry shook himself.

"Come on, we have to go... reassure the little ones..." he said, his voice getting a bit stronger. What he meant as a joke made him think. If this happened in his first year, he would have probably been terrified. "Seriously, they don't know what's going on; all they heard was some doomsday prophecy from a batty old teacher they've never seen before."

Ron nodded, but the girls seemed even more in agreement. They all walked out of Dumbledore's office together, Harry still holding Rachel's hand, and Ron and Hermione walking perhaps a bit closer to Harry and to each other than they normally would have.

Chapter Fourteen

The Cup

By the time Harry and the others got to the common room, rumours and retellings of the prophecy were already soaring between students, and the younger Gryffindors (and a good few of the older ones) were indeed looking frightened.

"Harry!" Seamus Finnigan yelled to him as soon as he walked through the portrait hole. "Where were you?"

"Ah--Dumbledore wanted to talk to me and Hermione," was the first thing he could think of. "Ron and Rachel were waiting for us..."

"What do you think--if our 'cornerstone is going to crumble', do you reckon that means the Ministry is going to burn to the ground during some great battle?"

Harry paused to digest this.

"Wha--no, Seamus. I mean... I don't know."

"What else could it be? Maybe... Thedon is about to be assassinated?"

A third year girl looked fleetingly up at him.

"Seamus... you're scaring the first years," Harry said in an undertone. "No, seriously... the last thing we need is a terrified riot at the school. Listen--Dumbledore's... Dumbledore's told me some stuff, okay...just--give me a minute."

Harry got in front of the fireplace. He heard more speculations, some sounding almost panicked.

"My cousin in Ravenclaw just caught me before I came here, and she swears that Celestina Warbeck just got engaged, and if she starts to cry blood than it's happening..."

"It said 'our very refuge' was where the battle was going to be, right? Where else would that be but London? Should I write to my family to go to our relatives' place in Dublin?"

"I dunno... it never hurts to have a little protection..."

"I don't know what a 'room of light' would be..."

Harry cleared his throat and spoke.

"Er... excuse me--can I have your attention? Can I have your attention for a moment?" he said more emphatically.

"OY!" Ron yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing around the stone tower and silencing every last chattering voice. "Head Boy talking here..."

"Thanks, Ron..." Harry looked at every face now directed at him, and his stomach squirmed. "Listen to me... I know you're probably worried about your families, or yourselves... You're probably confused... But look, Dumbledore just left to tell--people--to tell everyone who needs to know about this--this prophecy. He has it under control.... Hey, it's a good thing... our side has just got a warning that nobody else knows we have."

"And it'll stay that way," said Howie Dirsch, the fifth year who had tried out for the position of Beater at the start of the term. "The Owlry's locked down, and no owls are allowed to leave the castle."

There was a wave of speech at this; some people affirmed what Dirsch said, and others cried out loudly upon learning it. Harry held up his hand.

"It's--that's necessary, alright? Something that will probably be a--a monumental turning point the Second War just happened; we can't risk letting Death Eaters know that Dumbledore knows how they're going to attack, right?"

Apparently this fact hadn't made itself known to many of the students. Many eyes widened at the realization. Perhaps Harry shouldn't have mentioned it....

"Look, look--like I told you, Dumbledore just left. Everyone who needs to know about this will, and he'll make sure everyone is protected. This is a good thing. Now... listen, there's no use worrying about it. I mean, all the deaths you read about in the papers are finally going to stop; the end of the war is in sight...." A second-year boy called Todd whose older brother was an Auror smiled to himself, and Harry felt heartened. "The headmaster said to try to just go back to your lives, and I think he was right. It's been a strange evening... we can go back to worrying about exams and the Quidditch Cup--" Harry glanced out a window toward the pitch-black field and cursed under his breath, suddenly remembering the match the next day. But this gained a small laugh from the gathered students, so he grinned. "Er--right... let's just get on with the evening, alright?" He stepped down from in front of the fire and speech slowly began to bubble back to life among the students, at least somewhat relieved. He moved around the edges of the common room a bit, making sure that at least nobody was panicking or terrified. Talk was still revolving around the prediction, but he expected that. After quietly reassuring a mahogany-haired third year girl that even if her sister and her fiancé still weren't talking, it didn't mean that the 'unite or every one of us shall fall' part of the prophecy would ruin her, he settled in a quiet corner under a large Gryffindor banner with Ron, Hermione, Rachel, Ginny, and Neville.

"The part I remember best is that some girl is going to start crying blood when it's about to happen," Ron was saying. "It's one of the signs, or something..."

"Well, I don't know who that could mean..."

"Trying to make sense of it?" Harry asked, lowering himself onto the cushioned bench in between Rachel and the stone wall. She silently moved closer and leaned into him. He put his arm around her.

"Yeah," Neville said; he and Ginny also very close. Harry noticed with some surprise that he had lost his boyish round face, and no longer looked like he should be a couple years below his actual grade. "Wasn't there also a part about a father and his child, comforting him or something... is that how we're to know it's over?"

Ron's eyes darted to Rachel before he could stop them, but Hermione had more sense.

"I think so, but don't know about who that would be, either," she said smoothly. "What about--what about 'young lovers give a final embrace?'"

Ginny shuddered and Neville rubbed her shoulder. "Oh, that's eerie..."

Harry frowned. Couldn't any one of these apply to him? He suddenly felt very cold. Was Snape going to actually comfort Rachel because... no, no. The young lovers dying was another sign the battle was beginning, and he had to at least survive to get to Voldemort. Ron's voice woke him from his musings.

"Fat lot of help, this; we can't even figure out what she's warned us of..."

"Well, I suppose there's somebody who knows all this and can figure it out," Hermione reasoned.

"Our cornerstone," Harry volunteered. That was the one he had been wondering about lately. "That may crumble. What do you think that is... something that sort of holds the magical community, or at least the entire force against Voldemort, together..."

There was silence for a moment as everyone thought this over.

"I'm pretty sure it would mean the Minister, right?" Neville ventured.

"What if--what if something happens to the Order?" Harry said slowly, reluctant to think about it. "There was also something about 'our refuge', right? Could they attack Num--the headquarters, and disband the Order?"

"What, like--scatter them?" Rachel said.

"Or take over the headquarters and confuse everybody... even if they found out Death Eaters had infiltrated the system, they would still hurt," Hermione reckoned nervously. "I mean, there wouldn't be any way to know what was real or not, and everyone would have to all pretty much act alone..."

"Look--I'm sure Dumbledore's thinking of all this," Ron said. "Him and everybody else important. It's like you said, Harry, at least they can plan for everything now... blimey, I'm glad the old bat's still here..."

Neville quietly agreed and everyone else nodded vaguely. When the silence stretched past two minutes, everybody wandering in their own thoughts, Harry said softly,

"It's later than it feels... it's almost one... come on, team, let's get to bed..."

"No practice tonight," Ginny observed distantly.

"Yeah, by the time I even thought about Quidditch the field was long closed... anybody who wants to can eat quickly and just meet on field; maybe we can at least warm up before the game..."

Ginny and Ron both nodded their appreciation for the plan. Harry called for the rest of the team to get some sleep and meet as early as possible on the field. When he got to the foot of the stairs Rachel kissed him goodnight, and he held on to her a bit longer. Ginny and Neville did the same, but Ron somehow didn't seem to mind. Harry gave Hermione a short hug as well, and tromped with Ron up the stairs to the dormitory. He fell into bed and pulled the covers around him, but doubted he would fall asleep soon. He was equally certain that he would not be the only one staring at strips of moonlight across the velvet top of his four-poster, not by far.

* * *

When Harry awoke abruptly at sunrise the next morning, he had to think for a moment to try and remember for certain whether the previous night was all a dream. The words of Professor Trelawney's prediction rang in his ears for a few seconds before he got up and dressed himself, then slipped down to breakfast.

Rachel and Alex Hewson were already there, along with most of the teaching body. Harry sat across from them and turned down a mug of coffee, not wanting to have his adrenaline crash in the middle of the game. He checked the enchanted ceiling for a clue to the weather--the purple sky was streaked sparsely with fleecy gold clouds, but the day promised to be clear. Harry took a swig of orange juice.

"Harry, look," Rachel said. "Professor Snape isn't back yet. I--I can play."

Her hesitant smile seemed tense to Harry, but her fellow Chaser couldn't seem to notice.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "Maybe he just isn't at breakfast yet..."

"No, I asked Professor McGonagall. He--he isn't here."

This time he was certain; although she smiled to be able to play, behind her happiness at her good fortune she was anxious.

"Look," Harry whispered to her when Alex turned away for jam. "Anyone who knows enough to want to-- kill him, he knows to avoid--I mean... right?"

Rachel took a sip of peppermint tea and gave an gave another small, embarrassed smile.

"Yeah..."

"Besides, he probably has a role in the prophecy to play, doesn't he?"

"Who?" Alex's looked up from his toast. Harry shook his head.

"Just more silly speculation. I'll meet you on the field."

Harry took a sausage link wrapped in toast and headed to the Quidditch field, passing Ron on the way, who would have forgone any food if Harry hadn't insisted. He flew a few practice laps until Ginny, Rachel, and Alex showed up and began drilling with Ron. Before long, the entire team was assembled, along with most of the Ravenclaws. Harry was just lobbing Colin a couple of practice Bludgers when the captain of their opponents, Robert Douglass, hailed him. Harry flew down to meet him.

"We were wondering--do you lot want to warm up together for a bit? Sort of--get a feel for the match?"

Harry looked at his adversary for a moment, then smiled. He realized how sportsmanlike Quidditch players could be when he wasn't playing Slytherin.

"That would be great... thanks."

Douglass smiled along with him and Harry called to his team. They scrimmaged against the Ravenclaws for about thirty minutes before they had to go and change. At that point they were tied at thirty points each, and his players were well ready to begin.

In the locker room, the team changed quickly and assembled in the centre, where the boys' changing area met the girls'. They all sat in silence for a while, listening to the clatter of footsteps climbing into the stands above, to the cheers and exited talk audible from there, and to their own hearts pumping. It all felt rather surreal, like all Cup matches Harry had played. The entire season now came down to this.... When then noise outside began to peak and it sounded like most of the school had arrived, Harry got up to make speech he hadn't prepared for, but had mostly formed in his head.

"Alright, team... Gryffindor's made it into the finals for years now. I'm already really proud of this team. Seriously--we've worked hard all year, and truly played well. It's been--it's been incredible having you all here and working together so well, and playing so well, and... and having it all pay off like this. We've got a great team this year--I mean, Colin!" He turned to his new Beater. "Where have you been these past few years? You can hit a Bludger farther and harder than plenty of blokes twice your size, like those boulders they've got on Slytherin. And I can remember the first time I explained you the rules of Quidditch..." Colin smiled eagerly, his eyes lighting up like Harry remembered from his second year, when he first met him. He felt a bit guilty for blowing him off all those times.

"Really, Harry?" he said, his voice a bit chirpy like it had been then.

"Absolutely! You are, if I may quote a friend, 'a right little fireball'. It's what they're starting to call you... "

Rachel laughed with Colin.

"And Alex--"

He turned to his other new player.

"You've gotten so good this year... I mean, not that you weren't good this fall. I mean that; Chasers have to be perfectly in sync, and totally focused, and know exactly what to do. You definitely helped us get here, and it's just your first year... remember that Hufflepuff match when you put it in right over the Keeper's head? That was beautiful!"

"Cheers, mate," Alex said, grinning.

"Ginny--you were completely ready to step up and take the lead role in most of our plays when it looked like Rachel wasn't going to make it. And you would have done well! You're a great passer, too; how often have you left opponents scratching their head and wondering where the Quaffle went?

Ginny shrugged cheerfully.

"Rachel--for heaven's sake, you're going into the league; you're a brilliant Chaser... and in front a bunch of national teams, what's one little school game? This team absolutely wouldn't be the same without you."

Rachel smiled to the floor.

"Sam--you saved us last year, and you and Colin make up a force with those Bludgers. I'm counting on you to crack a few skulls if we start to slip behind... you keep us all safe while the rest of the players do their job. We're depending on your and Colin's bats."

"Won't let you down, Cappy..."

"And Ron..."

Harry turned to his best friend.

"Your confidence has soared since that first game you played... you know every single year you've been with us, we've won the Cup? A Quidditch team can't do that without a great Keeper. I want you to get in front of those hoops like a stone wall, and keep the Quaffle right where it belongs, on our scoring side of the field--you can do that, can't you?"

"I'll be a wall and a moat," Ron said confidently. "I even--got a little good luck boost from Hermione this morning..."

"You--really?"

Ron's ears went red, but he kept grinning.

"It was nothing... she just hugged me, y'know... and said the first kind words to me she's had in about five months..."

Harry looked at Ron and slowly started to smile with him. Colin piped up,

"And you too, Harry; you're a spanking good Captain..."

"Yeah," Rachel said. "And the youngest and greatest Seeker in a century, I might add..."

A chorus of praise for Harry sprang up from his teammates. He coloured and grinned.

"You should be in Ravenclaw; with those eagle eyes..."

"I'd break my neck going for a Snitch just once..."

"And you're a great head of the team..." Rachel volunteered. "You can lead us to victory..." She laughed. "Seriously, that's how I see it; we're twice as good because you lead us on."

Harry beamed as he looked around his team.

"Look--Slytherin didn't make it partly because they all hate each other. Hufflepuff didn't make it because--well, some great Hufflepuff players left last year; they've had a bit of bad luck getting really great replacements. But we've got first-rate team--companionship, or... you know, whatever... and, well, talent.... We couldn't have gotten here without each and every one of you. I really mean that. I'm proud of all of you for just getting us this far. And--not that you wouldn't, but... let's make this a really good... really sportsmanlike game. I mean, we're--we really are playing good fellows here."

A round of 'hear, hear' came from the team, appreciative of and impressed by the Ravenclaws' earlier gesture.

"I mean, it's not like we're against those Slytherin snakes, right?"

Another loud cry. Harry felt charged, and wanted to pass it along to his teammates.

"Alright--Beaters' bats ready?"

Colin and Sam raised them and cheered.

"Broomsticks warmed up?"

Another raise and cheer.

"Chasers' gloves oiled?"

"Ah... no, not really!" Alex said, but cheering all the same.

"That's okay!"

More cheering.

"Is the King ready?"

Ron laughed as the brooms were raised to him with a happy cry.

"And I've got my goggles on... on three, 'Lions for the Cup!'

Every gloved hand was placed in the centre of the ring of player, and they chanted,

"One... two... three... Lions for the Cup!"

"Again!"

"Lions for the Cup!"

"Once more!"

"LIONS FOR THE CUP!"

"HERE COME THE GRYFFINDORRRRRRRRRRRS!"

Dean's voice suddenly flowed into the locker room, and Harry led his uplifted, eager, and still-cheering team out onto the field, feeling, if not invincible, completely ready to play, and play hard.

"Captain Potter leads his team onto the field, followed by Connor, going pro this next season; go Kestrels; Weasley, a promising sixth year and heartbreaker on and off the field; Hewson, a strong new addition; holding up well despite having O.W.L.s this year, good luck; McClaggan, ye old splinterer of brooms; Creevey, a lot of power in that little guy, it really does come in small packages, and another Weasley, our king--anybody remember that song?"

The Ravenclaw team had already been introduced, and stood waiting for them behind their captain. Harry took his place in the centre of the field and shook hands with Douglass beside Madame Hooch. He felt suddenly so happy to just be playing a sport, with all that went through his mind the previous night... and playing a good, friendly game.

"Good luck," he said to Douglass, and meant it.

"You too, mate."

Suddenly all the players were standing at kickoff positions. Madame Hooch was about to toss the Quaffle in the air. Harry felt time slow for two heartbeats as the red leather ball lifted, in slow motion, off of her hand. The entire Quidditch season, coming together now... than the whistle brought him to his senses and he sped off into the air, just playing another Quidditch match.

"And the first catch of the Quidditch Cup Final goes to Connor, Rachel Connor of Gryffindor with the ball, up the field... pass to new arrival Hewson, to Weasley, back to Hewson, and intercepted by Peterson, Peterson of Ravenclaw up the field--oh, or not, a quick intercept by Connor and it's back to the Gryffindor side..."

About fifteen minutes into the game, Rachel scored the first goal for Gryffindor. All the Gryffindors cheered, even Dean, none of the Slytherins, of course, but they booed for both teams, and the Hufflepuffs clapped good-naturedly for both sides. Harry circled high above the Ravenclaw Seeker, Flaherty, who preferred to look for the Snitch low to the ground during the beginning of the match. Both teams played hard--Rachel and Alex each scored once more, but Ravenclaw countered with a goal by Greene and some good Bludger work that caused Ginny to fumble the ball twice. Their Beaters had improved. Harry made a mental note to tell Colin and Sam to try to imitate the way they flicked their wrists to get an extra spin on the Bludger--then realized he would never be able to coach them anymore. This game was the last of his career. Just when he had started to get good at noticing things for his players to try... he would really, really miss watching them play and improve, and practicing with them... then he realized he had hardly noticed anything he was looking at. He shook his head and took a quick, observatory lap around the field to compensate.

Colin and Sam, however, noticed the Ravenclaws' technique on their own and imitated it, quickly levelling the playing field in that respect. Harry was proud. Meanwhile, Ginny scored her first goal of the game, but Ravenclaw put the Quaffle through Ron's left hoop three times in quick succession--a fact that seemed to make Ron very uneasy. Harry swooped over him.

"It's alright, Ron; you're doing great!" he called. "Try circling the goals!"

Rachel, he noticed, whom he had given freedom to call the plays as she saw fit, hadn't tried their move yet. She seemed to be waiting to pull it out of their sleeve when they really needed it. The Ravenclaws had improved, however, about keeping their Chasers spread out to intercept when Gryffindor was going for goal. Well, most teams slipped into bad habits when they got tired. He saw why Rachel was waiting. His Chasers managed something impressive while Harry was on the other side of the field, looking after a glint of metal that turned out to be a bit of exposed steel in the stands, which got them another ten points. They were tied again.

"And as the game reaches its first full hour, both teams show no signs of slowing down as Peterson heads a Hawkshead formation toward the Gryffindor goal line, to Greene, back to Andrews, to Peterson, Andrews, Greene--oh, a bit too predictable there, intercepted by Connor, who passes to--Weasley, Weasley to Hewson, back to Weasley, to Connor, Hewson, Weasley, Hew--ah, the opposite effect, the Gryffindor Chasers got a bit to hasty there, and the Quaffle's caught by Greene, but a nice Bludger to the wrist, neat work by McClaggan, sends it right back to Weasley... oh no, another drop, and Andrews is speeding to the goal--Keeper Weasley saves; nice one, Ron, but the Quaffle is down again, about to go back to centre... or not, as Captain Potter calls a time-out. That's one hour and about six minutes as Gryffindor leads narrowly over Ravenclaw, at 70-80..."

Harry zoomed down to earth with his team.

"We're doing great, everyone, I just want you to take a breather for a moment... hey, Sam, have you noticed the pattern they've been doing when they get into an Off-Centre Arrow formation--how the one side always peels off, but the lead keeps switching sides so we can't tell when it's happening?"

"Yeah."

"They must have some signal, because I think the Beaters hover slightly closer to the side that's going to go for goal. Try looking real level at them to see if they're favouring one side, then try and take that player out--and Raich, follow him under to catch the ball."

"Got it."

"Me too."

"Great--Ginny, why don't you try feinting? Rachel's been getting plenty of goals that way, but he may be starting to suspect her. Try it once, okay? When we're pretty far from their Chasers, though, just because it's the first feint you've done this game."

"Alright."

"Like I said, we're doing good--let's wear them down; they'll start to get sloppy."

"Harry," Rachel said. "I've been saving that play we've worked so hard on for them for later when they do get sloppy, 'cause they've gotten better at spreading out..."

"That's what I figured; that's good. Everybody ready to go back in? Alright, go Gryffindor! Break..."

He signalled again to Madame Hooch and they lifted off again. Ginny got the chance to feint in just a few minutes, and did brilliantly. Harry saw the Snitch once, but it was in the middle of a crowd of his Chasers, doing a good Hawkshead where they alternated leading more smoothly than they usually could, and the Snitch disappeared before he could dive. The game was very well played--neither side kept a very strong lead for very long. Rachel's scoring, however, was beginning to prove just slightly better than the Ravenclaws'. That seemed to be the thing that just began to push their opponent to begin to stumble, and when Rachel saw the chance, she went for the jugular and put their long-trained for play into action.

"Connor up the field with the Quaffle, and the Gryffindors form a Hawkshead and begin to pass, Weasley, Hewson, Weasley, Connor, Hewson, Connor... Ravenclaws coming up fast... Weasley has taken the lead in the Hawkshead, and they're still passing, Connor, Weasley, Connor, Hewson..."

Suddenly, Ginny plummeted with the Quaffle, while passing it up to Rachel. The Ravenclaw Chasers dove with her, except for one who stayed above. That was smart, Harry thought, with mild irritation.

"No, Connor with the Quaffle, excuse me, and it's back to Hewson, to Connor, to Hewson..."

Next Rachel suddenly dropped the Quaffle to Ginny, very smoothly. The Ravenclaw Chasers were right on top of her, but confused. She passed it back to Alex after holding it just long enough to let them see she had it. Alex and Rachel passed among themselves again, occasionally dropping to Ginny. They were near the goalposts now.

"And Connor swoops behind the right goal, but Douglass is keeping an eye on her... Weasley now on Hewson's level, pass to him, then back to Weasley... Hewson flies to Douglass' other hoop..."

The Ravenclaw Chasers were doing just what Harry wanted them to--gathering around Ginny. Douglass shouted at them to spread, but it was too late. Ginny made to score, but Douglass saw she was feinting. This may have ruined the play, but Ginny, instead of passing to Rachel like Douglass expected, sent the Quaffle soaring to Alex. Even though Kinnet sent a great Bludger toward Rachel, Greene was coming toward her fast, and Douglass moved to her side to block, Alex put the Quaffle through his now unguarded left hoop easily. Gryffindor gained another ten points. Harry didn't want to favour Rachel for scoring, even though she was the strongest, but it worked out well that Douglass seemed to think he did. He swung his fist down, irritated, but resumed play.

The Gryffindor Chasers were able to use that play again (two Chasers on each side of the hoops, with the other usually having a split second to choose who the Keeper was leaning toward and throw to the opposite), but Ravenclaw bounced back quickly. They spread out and basically defended man-to-man. Rachel mixed it up effectively a few times, first putting herself in the centre and passing to either Alex or Ginny to score, then actually going for goal instead of passing to one side, and earned Gryffindor another couple of goals. Ravenclaw began to become quicker to intercept, however, so after having the play foiled a few times, Harry's Chasers abandoned it, at least for a while. Sam and Rachel did take his advice about Ravenclaw's favourite play too, however, and turned out to be right. They, too were forced to abandon a good manoeuvre. Both teams, however, still had a few tricks up their sleeves.

"Ravenclaw, after a brief lead on Gryffindor, is now behind by thirty points, but catching up, with a goal not too long ago... interestingly, Ravenclaw has began to use their Beaters in a novel way, tailing Gryffindors' and battling for the Bludgers, and it looks like they're going to go at it again--yes, and another block foiled by Hanson of Ravenclaw, and--score for Ravenclaw! It's 190-170 now, in this very close Cup battle..."

"Smart," Harry muttered to himself, keeping an eye on Seeker Flaherty. "If we start to rely on our Beaters, they go for the Bludgers more; we rely on our Chasers..."

Harry left the thought unfinished as Hanson's dark ponytail again obscured his view of Sam. They battled for the a Bludger again; this time Sam got it, and knocked the Quaffle out of Peterson's hands, where Ginny caught it neatly. He noticed both Sam and Hanson, another third year, smiling impishly at each other whenever they went after a Bludger.

"Mind on the game, McClaggan!" Harry called as he soared over him, but he grinned. Sam smiled sheepishly.

The air became rather thick and Harry could taste rain. As thunder began to rumble thickly in the distance, Ravenclaw scored a few more times so they were tied again, then Ron gave a spectacular diving save Harry caught out of the corner of his eye. But then Andrews scored, then Rachel put it in twice. Harry cast his eye over to the goalposts and saw Colin hit a Bludger hard and nick the Quaffle, sending it flying back toward his teammates. Than he saw the Golden Snitch.

It was hovering near Douglass' right hoop, and Flaherty saw it just as he did. Flaherty was closer.

Harry flattened himself on his broomstick and shot after Flaherty, stretching his hand out as he went. The Snitch dove, but they both saw it and followed. Flaherty was ahead, he snatched--and missed. Harry dove halfway off his broom and felt himself plough into the grass, and tasted mud. But he held his fist up high--he had caught it.

"Potter has the Snitch! Potter caught it--it's over! Wow, an abrupt and... somewhat... ungraceful end to this exciting and close match..."

Harry stood up, laughing at himself.

"That's a great catch to end my career on, eh?" he joked loudly to Rachel, the first teammate on the ground with him. "Just about every other one I made was swooping and impressive, and then the one people will remember most I run myself into the ground..."

Rachel laughed, and Harry held the Snitch up goofily--he didn't really mind.

"Final score three-sixty to two hundred Gryffindor, two-ten two-hundred before the Snitch! The last match of the year, and the last game for both Captains, a narrow win for Gryffindor--let's have a big round of applause for both teams and an excellent match--RAVENCLAW AND GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry's team crowded around him and he hugged every one of them; Rachel, naturally, longer. Colin was jumping up and down and screaming his head off. The Gryffindors came pouring onto the field, cheering, and Professor McGonagall bore the Quidditch Cup down herself, and handed it to Harry. All was a happy, loud blur. Harry held the Cup high and was cheered, then passed to Rachel, who held it with Ginny and Alex. Harry got away from the crowd, made it down the field and reached Robert Douglass.

"Great match, mate," he said, smiling but trying not look to happy, for sportsmanship's sake.

"It really was," Douglass said, taking his hand again. "It's hard to feel to disappointed when the match was that well-played..."

Harry looked at him.

"Well, alright, not impossible..."

Douglass smiled, just a bit bitterly. Harry could understand; he had worked just as hard as he had.

"Great match--it really was," said a voice over his shoulder.

Rachel had followed him, with Ginny, Alex, and Colin. Sam and Ron were right behind them.

"Thanks," Douglass said, taking her hand as well. "You too--the Kestrels, eh? Well... we shouldn't feel too bad losing to a pro, right?"

"A pro? Right. I haven't even played one season; at tryouts the others flattened me. It was a totally level field."

Douglass smiled. Rachel moved on to his Chasers, complimenting each one personally on their moves. Colin and Sam wrung Douglass' hand and then went to Hanson and Kinnet, Sam looking particularly keen. Ron told Douglass that if it hadn't been the end of the year, he would ask him to help him train his reflexes. Harry shook Flaherty's hand, telling him that he had, at least, managed to stay on his broom. By then the crowd had caught up with them, some Ravenclaws managing to look cheerful they had at least made it to the final match. Harry motioned to his team. Each player stood by his equivalent, Chasers with Chasers, Beaters with Beaters, etc., and, following Harry's example, held their hand high in the air amidst renewed cheers. It felt a much better end to the match than when Madame Hooch had to hold infuriated Slytherins back from cursing or physically attacking the Gryffindors. They stood together in the warm drizzle, holding their opponents hands high and really meaning their calls of 'good game.'