Harry Potter and the Missing Memories

Chapter 14

Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw

When Harry saw Hagrid's rota for the Special Project that Friday morning, he had to smile. True to his word, Hagrid had ensured that absolutely everyone in class was taking part fully in rearing the foals. The students were all taking turns in the various tasks, which included feeding the animals, exercising them and mucking out the stables.

"Would you look at that!" exclaimed Ron. "Have you seen what Malfoy's doing while we're mixing the feed on Monday?"

Harry looked down the list and grinned from ear to ear. "Now that I've got to see," he said, "Malfoy shovelling shit."

He glanced across towards the Slytherins further down the paddock and noted with some satisfaction that Malfoy's face was as black as thunder. Young Master Malfoy did not look at all happy at the prospect of doing tasks that he clearly considered 'beneath his station', and Harry had no doubt what his next owl home would be about.

"Wonder if Fred and George can come up with any ideas over the weekend," said Ron in an undertone, a wicked gleam in his eye. "It's just too good to pass up."

The following evening, Harry and Ron were sitting in a corner of the Gryffindor Common Room, just finishing off concocting the answers to their latest batch of Divination homework, when Fred and George sidled over and sat down with them.

"Ron told us earlier about your little opportunity on Monday," Fred said to Harry in a low, conspiratorial voice.

"And we think we've got the perfect thing for you," added George, tapping the side of his nose knowingly.

Harry and Ron grinned.

"Great!" said Harry enthusiastically.

Ron nodded in agreement, but the smile faded quickly, to be replaced by a frown.

"What's it going to cost us?" he demanded, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Nothing at all, dear brother," replied George airily. "Just count it as part of our research."

"As if we'd charge a Prefect for our services!" said Fred. "Especially when there's the chance to get back at that git Malfoy. You know, he took points off us once last term for loitering without intent near the dungeons."

"Without intent, yeah," snorted George. "Malfoy didn't know it, but we were trying to get some extra supplies from Snape's classroom at the time."

"That," replied Fred coolly, "is entirely beside the point."

*

So first thing on Monday morning, Harry and Ron met Fred and George on the steps outside the main door. The twins were holding something fairly long and thin, wrapped in a blanket.

"What have you got for us?" Harry asked.

"A stroke of genius, if we say so ourselves," replied George with a mischievous smile. "A simple idea adapted from our Antipodean cousins."

He unwrapped the blanket to reveal a very ordinary looking garden spade.

"You just need to replace the shovel at the stables with this before Malfoy gets there, then stand back and watch the fun."

"A word of warning though," added Fred. "Make sure you're not standing just behind him when he uses it. And don't use it yourselves."

Harry and Ron gingerly took the shovel, wrapped it up and hurried down to the stables at the edge of the Forest to plant it there before breakfast. Then they went back up to the castle and slipped into the Great Hall, hoping no one had noticed their absence. Only Hermione seemed to have noticed they were late, and she merely scowled at them briefly and pointedly turned away to concentrate on reading her copy of the Daily Prophet. They sat down near Ginny and Neville further down the table and helped themselves to porridge and toast.

After they had hurriedly eaten their breakfast, they asked Neville to take their books to Charms, which was their first lesson that day, while they went to mix the feed for the winged horses. The foals were outside in the paddock when Harry and Ron got there, and they were already noticeably larger than the first time Harry had seen them. The bumps on their shoulders were also more pronounced. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen yet, so they went into the stables to start their task, eyeing the shovel in anticipation as they passed.

They had already measured out the correct amounts of dry feed into the buckets for each of the two foals, per Hagrid's almost illegible instructions, and were just mixing in the water and the tot of whisky when they heard Draco Malfoy's familiar drawl.

"...but Professor Dumbledore's siding with that big oaf, of course. Father's going to take it to the Board of Governors," the voice sighed heavily. "Until then, I suppose I'll have to keep my nose clean."

Malfoy reached the stable door and stopped. He was accompanied by Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson. Harry and Ron smirked, turned their backs to the newcomers and focused their attention on the feed, which had turned a bright yellowish-green and started to emit occasional foul-smelling bubbles.

"God, I hope those infernal creatures haven't eaten much!" said Malfoy, wrinkling his nose with disdain.

He paused for a moment or two more, then slowly sauntered over to the pile tools and gardening implements at the far side, where the spade was propped up against the wall in a prominent position. Harry, trying to see what was going on out of the corner of one eye, saw him pick the spade up and start to look around the stable floor.

"We'd better take this feed out to the troughs in the paddock," he said to Ron. Then he added in a whisper, "Much as I want to see this, I think we should try to make ourselves a bit scarcer - we don't want to be trapped in here with those three."

"Yeah, but I don't want to miss anything either, mate," Ron whispered in reply, glancing over at Malfoy in anticipation.

"Let's just go slowly and put this outside the door then, otherwise we'll look like we're waiting for something."

Ron nodded in agreement. They picked up the enormous tub they'd been mixing the feed in, holding one handle each because it was deceptively heavy, and made their way slowly towards the stable door, trying not to slop any over the side. This attracted the attention of the Slytherins, who appeared not to have noticed them before. Pansy and Crabbe scowled at them, arms folded, and looked uncertainly at the green, bubbling tub of feed. Much to Harry's relief, they stepped to one side to allow them through the doorway.

"Ah, I see you're doing work fit for house elves too, Potter," drawled Malfoy, still idly holding the spade. "Not that Weasley would notice the difference."

Ron's ears started to redden, as they always did when he was goaded about his family's lack of wealth.

"Well, your family wouldn't know what an honest day's work was if it hit them in the face," he retorted.

"Draco," Pansy cut in quickly, "you'd better not be too long or we'll be late for our first lesson."

Malfoy scowled, but looked down at the stable floor again to locate dung that needed removing. Harry and Ron paused in the doorway, as Malfoy approached a particularly large pile. He scooped it up with the spade and threw it into the waiting barrow. Their mouths dropped open: The manure swerved sharply just before reaching the barrow and seemed to rebound, flying straight at Malfoy and hitting him directly in the face. The force of it overbalanced him, and he fell down backwards into the straw. He sat there, speechless, as the dark green dung slowly dripped down from his face and onto his robes.

Pansy, by contrast, shrieked loudly and ran forward to help her beloved Draco, helping him to his feet and pulling out a snow-white handkerchief to dab his face.

"Oh, Draco, Draco," she whimpered, as the hankie rapidly turned from white to green, "how could this happen to you?"

Harry and Ron managed to suppress their laughter and beat a very hasty retreat. They deposited the feed tub next to the trough and ran off in the direction of the castle as fast as they could. As soon as they were out of sight of the stable, they collapsed in hysterics at the foot of a tree.

"Now that..." hooted Ron gleefully, "was classic! Did you see the look on Malfoy's face? He didn't know what had hit him!"

"Or rather, he knew exactly what had hit him!" Harry grinned broadly in reply. "You've really got to hand it to Fred and George - a Boomerang Shovel! I wonder what they'll dream up next?"

When their laughter subsided, they scrambled to their feet again, their sides still aching from their hilarity.

"C'mon," said Harry, "we'd better get back up to the castle for Charms. It'll look suspicious if we're late."

*

Now that all their lessons were fully underway, the work soon began to mount up again. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were setting four assignments per week rather than the usual two, and the length of essays that Professor Snape expected from them had also doubled.

"Four feet on the properties of moonstone!" Ron complained loudly one evening. "I'll be lucky if I manage two."

Ron and Hermione were still studiously avoiding each other, which was really hitting both Ron and Harry hard. Normally, they would run the draft versions of their essays past Hermione, and she would make suggestions and correct them. But now that she wasn't talking to Ron, she wasn't helping Harry either, and the mountain of work was growing at an alarming rate.

On top of this, Harry had booked the Quidditch pitch for team practices three times a week in the run up to the match against Ravenclaw on the last weekend of that month. He had also booked the pitch for a couple of extra practice sessions a week just for Ron. As Ron's problem appeared to be performing in front of a crowd, Harry started by making sure that he gave Ron some practice time just for the two of them, until he was confident of what he was doing and saving the majority of the shots that Harry could throw at him. Then after a few sessions, Harry asked as many of the Gryffindors as he could persuade to come down to the stands and watch, to try and get Ron more used to an audience. Predictably, Ron began by dropping every shot sent his way, even though the Gryffindors were quiet and supportive.

"Come on, Ron," Harry chided him halfway through a particularly bad practice. "These are friends - they want you to succeed."

Ron nodded, looking over Harry's shoulder into the distance, his cheeks and neck flushed red, his teeth gritted in determination.

"Yeah," he said vaguely, "yeah, sure."

But Harry persevered, and by the weekend before the match Ron was vastly improved, even when Harry's rent-a-crowd began to sing, clap and cheer. Even though Ron was still a potential weak link in the team, Harry felt heartened that they at least stood a reasonable chance against Ravenclaw.

*

Saturday morning arrived, and, looking out of the window of Gryffindor Tower, Harry had to admit the weather conditions were as perfect as they could be for the time of year: the sky was clear and bright, and there was no wind to speak of, though the thick ground frost showed it wasn't as warm as it might look either.

Harry dragged a reluctant Ron down to an early breakfast, and they sat with the rest of the team, as was their custom on match days. Harry helped himself to a plateful of bacon and eggs and tried to persuade Ron to do the same.

"C'mon Ron, you need to keep your strength up," he pleaded, but remembering how unhungry he'd often felt before an important game. He set a plate of food down in front of Ron, who eyed it doubtfully.

Harry and the rest of the team discussed tactics and their opponents' form in low voices, while Ron mutely nibbled on a slice of toast. Gradually the Great Hall was filling up with students; out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione and Parvati pass them without a single glance as they went and sat at the head of the table.

"I think the important thing is to keep this game as short as possible," said Angelina, "so, as ever, we're relying on you, Harry."

"Yeah, let's not give them a chance to find any chinks in our defence," said Fred.

The whole team suddenly froze and tried hard not to look in Ron's direction. George glared at his twin and cleared his throat.

"What we need right now is a team photo," he declared. "The brave knights and knightesses about to go into battle. Hey Colin!" He got to his feet and waved to the older of the Creevey brothers, who was sat further down the table. Colin got up and came across to them. "You got that camera of yours around? We could do with a team photograph."

Colin looked sheepish.

"I'm sorry, I haven't, not today - it got broken and I'm waiting for it to be repaired."

"Now that would be a photo for the obituary column, wouldn't it?" came the familiar drawl from behind Ron. "I hear Ravenclaw are on rather good form - they're bound to slaughter a lousy team like yours."

Harry glanced up.

"Shove off, Malfoy."

"Yeah, get lost, dung boy, we don't need your opinion here," added Fred hotly, scowling up at him.

Malfoy's face turned from mocking to murderous in a split second. He visibly struggled to find a suitable retort, but settled on, "You... Just you wait!" before stalking off in the direction of the Slytherin table, the team's hoots of laughter ringing in his ears.

*

An hour later, Harry walked onto the Quidditch pitch at the head of his team and shook hands with the Ravenclaw captain. The stands around them were filled with a sea of red and gold scarves and placards on one side and blue and bronze on the other.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and Harry pushed off hard, savouring the exhilarating feel of the breeze against his face. There really is nothing like flying to leave your cares behind, thought Harry. He lapped the stadium once and then took up position, hovering in mid-air over the main pitch, one eye on the game and the other looking out for any sign of the Golden Snitch.

Angelina had possession of the Quaffle and was zooming towards the Ravenclaw hoops. A few moments later and she scored the first goal of the match. A great cheer rose from the Gryffindor side, and Harry's heart leapt: they were off to a good start.

Towards the far end of the pitch, also hovering over the game below, was Cho Chang. Harry felt a pang of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It certainly wasn't the familiar stomach flip-flop he'd felt so often in the past. The crush, it seemed, had dissipated. He realised he was feeling a mixture of sadness and pity. Sadness that the connection he'd dreamed about so often had gone, and regret that he'd hurt her and caused problems for her, both with her peers and her parents. He drifted slowly round the perimeter of the pitch towards her, but without even looking in his direction, she seemed to match his movement, so that they remained poles apart.

Below him, the game continued to go well for Gryffindor. Indeed, Angelina, Katie and Alicia seemed determined to keep the Quaffle in the Ravenclaw half of the pitch, with quite a lot of success. 40-0, 50-0, 60-0 - the goals kept on increasing the score in Gryffindor's favour. But then a well-aimed Bludger from one of the Ravenclaw beaters knocked Alicia clean off her broom. Madam Hooch called a halt to the game while the damage to Alicia was assessed, and she was taken off to the hospital wing with concussion and a suspected fracture to her left leg. After that, with one team member down, things didn't go quite so much in their favour. Despite the team's best efforts, the Ravenclaws seemed to have possession of the Quaffle more often than not.

The first time the Ravenclaw chasers got down to the Gryffindor hoops, Harry's heart was in his mouth. Concentrate. You can do it, he willed silently to Ron. And Ron did it. A spectacular save.

"What a save! Weasley has answered his critics in style!" came Lee Jordan's commentary over the loudhailer.

The Gryffindor ranks erupted in celebration, and Harry whooped so loudly and waved his hands so wildly that his broom nearly threw him off. Ron went bright pink and grinned from ear to ear like a Cheshire Cat. He saved the next two attempts at the goal too. The third, however, slipped in despite Ron's valiant attempt to save it. Harry was pleased nonetheless - his work with Ron had paid off, and they were still in the lead by fifty points.

Then suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of a glint of gold. He looked round and say the tiny Snitch fluttering just behind the Slytherin stands. He turned his broom, leaned forward and dived down towards the tiny ball at break-neck speed. Cho Chang had seen it too, and he could see her zooming in from his right to intercept him. They almost collided in mid-air above the stands and jostled shoulder hard against shoulder in their struggle to catch the Snitch. Harry tried to force her off track, using the superior speed and strength of the Firebolt to try and lever under her broom handle and push her upwards, but with one quick little manoeuvre, she freed her handle and brought it down forcefully onto Harry's hand. He winced and pushed her away with his shoulder. Determination was etched on Cho's face, as she countered and returned every block and shove that the Gryffindor Seeker made. The Golden Snitch fluttered back across the stands, just out of reach, and they turned as one to follow it, concentrating on nothing except the tiny ball flying tantalisingly in front of them.

Then Harry felt something hit his leg, and something else struck his shoulder. He glanced down. The Slytherins were throwing anything they could reach up at them - pebbles, fruit, paper pellets - and catcalling.

"Pucker up, Potter!"

"Kissy kissy in the air!"

"Rubbing up against Potter again, Chang? What would Diggory make of that?"

"Does your daddy know you're still seeing him?"

Harry shot a look across at Cho and saw to his horror that tears were streaming down her cheeks. A horrible hollow feeling engulfed him. I caused this, he thought.

The Snitch was almost in reach now, and both of them had their hands stretched out towards it. Closer, closer still they inched. At the last possible moment, Harry made a snap decision he knew he'd regret later: he gripped his broom handle and pulled back on it ever so slightly, small enough to be imperceptible, and Cho edged ahead. He saw her dainty hand close around the golden ball and raise it in triumph. He swerved away sharply, flew down to the pitch and landed.

As the Ravenclaw stands erupted in a tumult of jubilant whoops, cheers and clapping, the rest of the Gryffindor team landed close to Harry.

"Bad luck, Harry," said Angelina, dismounting and clapping him on the back in what she obviously thought was a reassuring fashion. But the flatness of her tone gave away the disappointment she felt.

Harry thought that, as Captain, he ought to say something. He took a deep breath and launched in:

"This one didn't go our way, team, but you still all played well," he began, looking round from one face to another, and trying to put on a positiveness he certainly didn't feel. "Ron, Angelina, Katie, you were exceptional, especially for keeping things going so well after Alicia got hurt. Well done."

There were a few moments of uneasy silence.

"Speaking of Alicia," said George,

"We'd better go and see how she is," said Fred.

Harry and the others nodded, and without another word, they turned and began to walk back up towards the castle. Harry hung back for a minute, and looked up and round at the celebrating Ravenclaws carrying their team hoisted up on their shoulders. They were beaming from ear to ear, their faces flushed with excitement. No doubt this would go down in the annals of Ravenclaw history as the day their hard work and tactics paved the way to their victory over the Boy Who Lived.

Cho was still holding the fluttering Snitch aloft, looking radiant. Harry had thought that doing the 'right' thing would make him feel some satisfaction, maybe even elation, but instead he felt flat and empty. He had betrayed the trust of his team-mates, even if he had done the right thing by her. Cho caught his eye, and the smile faded momentarily from her face. Then she held out the Golden Snitch towards him in a form of salute and turned away again towards her supporters.

With a sigh, Harry turned once more to follow the rest of the team up to the castle and found Ron waiting for him a few yards up the path.

"I know what you did, Harry," he said in a low voice, as Harry reached him.

Harry stopped dead and stared at his friend, trying not to let any emotion show on his face. Was Ron angry? Would he tell the others? Or did they already know? He suddenly felt icy cold.

"There's no way Cho could have beaten you to that Snitch unless you let her," Ron continued. He was trying to keep his voice light and conversational, but Harry could tell that there was a decidedly strained note to it.

"It wasn't right, Harry. Not after all the work we'd put in."

Ron shook his head, his brow furrowed, and Harry's heart pounded a little harder. He held his breath, wondering what his friend would say next, wondering if this might just be the end of their friendship.

"It wasn't right..." Ron paused and sighed, running his fingers wearily through his red hair, "...but I do understand why you did it."

Harry felt relief course through him: Ron wasn't angry. He nodded mutely, and the two friends fell into step as they began to walk back.

"But did you see that second save I did? It was awesome if I say so myself!"

Harry's face split into a grin. The ice broken, they talked their way through the whole match all the way back to the castle.

*