Harry Potter And The Fall Of Childhood

Chapter 8

Quidditch and Questions

"The responses of human beings vary greatly under dangerous circumstances. The strong man advances boldly to meet them head on. The weak man grows agitated.

But the superior man stands up to fate, endures resolutely in his inner certainty if ignorant both." -- I Ching.

***

Harry yawned hugely as he rode the moving staircase up to Dumbledore's office. He had gotten up before six o'clock, and, combined with his late bedtime last night, he was rather exhausted. It had taken his muzzy brain almost fifteen minutes to come up with the right sugary password (Fizzing Wizbee).

It occurred to him for the first time as he reached the top of the stairs that Dumbledore himself might be still asleep. Harry paused, hand already lifted to knock on the office door. He didn't want to disturb the Headmaster's rest, but this really was important--not to mention well overdue. He sighed in relief as he heard the rumble of voices behind the door. He might be interrupting, but at least he wouldn't wake the professor.

Harry shifted the box of papers and knocked smartly. He frowned as he heard a quite distinctive pop within. As Hermione delighted in pointing out, no one could Apparate in Hogwarts. The only other time he had ever heard that particular sound made as displaced air rushed to fill a suddenly empty space was when an Animagus transformed. Harry gave a little bounce of delight, unable to contain a flash of hope. Maybe his interruption wouldn't be so unwelcome after all.

The door opened a crack and Harry grinned at the man peering cautiously around it.

"Remus!"

"Harry? Goodness, what on earth are you doing here?" He paused, frowning suddenly. He turned away and spoke back into the room, his voice oddly tight. "Albus, you didn't invite Harry, did you?"

"No, but he is of course quite welcome," the Headmaster's warm voice answered. "Do let him in, Remus."

Harry stepped past the still frowning man and gawked about the office. He wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure the room had been magically expanded. And for good reason, he imagined. There were at least thirty people crammed into the little space, sitting on conjured chairs and sofas, or just leaning against the walls. Harry spotted most of his professors, Remus of course, and a whole lot of people he didn't know. And there, dressed in fashionable green robes, was his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Figg.

"Er, hi," Harry said, aware that they were all staring at him.

"Good morning," Dumbledore said cheerily. "What ever would drag a student out of his bed at such an hour?"

Harry bit his tongue to keep from asking what exactly all these people were doing meeting at such an hour, and just smiled nervously at his Headmaster. "You told me to tell you when I finished going through the papers and things you gave me. I did, last night, and I found some, er, odd things."

"You gave him papers?" A new yet delightfully familiar voice interjected, accompanied by another pop.

Harry turned and grinned down at his godfather as he crawled out from under the chair where Padfoot had been tucked away. "Hey, Sirius!"

Sirius smiled back, but he turned to Dumbledore quickly. "What papers?" He sounded a little angry.

"I gave Harry one of the boxes we recovered from the Crouch estate. From young Mr. Crouch's study, as a matter of fact." Dumbledore smiled blandly at Sirius.

"You what?" Harry's godfather straightened up, startling Harry by practically snarling at Dumbledore. "You gave him potentially dangerous--"

"Excuse me," Harry cut in before Sirius could really get going, "but 'he' is right here and 'he' is just fine after viewing such dangerous information." He heard a few scattered chuckles, and realized for the first time that Sirius had transformed in front of all these people.

As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "Everyone here is trustworthy and knows of Sirius' situation," he said, then conjured another chair with the flick of his wand. "And now why don't you tell all of us what you've found."

Harry took the seat gratefully, watching in amusement as an obviously irritated Sirius scooted a chair up next to his.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt anything, sir," he said, looking around again.

An all-too-familiar snort issued from the corner by the door, and Harry turned with a silent groan. Snape was leaning back against the wall in the darkened corner, glaring at all and sundry, and Harry in particular.

"Interrupting, Mr. Potter, seems to be one of your few talents," he snapped.

"Now see here--"

"You're not interrupting, not at all," Dumbledore overrode Sirius smoothly. "I would have passed along whatever you have to say to those presently assembled, in any case."

Harry paused, wondering again what all these people were doing here. A suspicion began to form, and it was both sobering and a relief.

"Well," he began, shifting the box on his lap to open it, "Most of this seems completely useless. Boring, too. Crouch wrote a lot about silly things and pretty much all the papers have no--"

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Snape took a step out of his corner. "Albus, why did you give such sensitive material to this child? He could have missed something of vital importance and all you've accomplished is to put one of us out by having to check his work. Just because you want to salve the boy's precious ego--"

"That is quite enough, Severus." Dumbledore was no longer twinkling as he sat forward in his chair. "I have complete confidence in Harry's ability to discern what is important from what is not. He has remarkably keen instincts for someone his age." Dumbledore paused, his brow creasing as if he were considering something. "Go on, Harry," he said after a moment, leaning back in his chair. Snape sniffed and sulked back to his corner, the thunderclouds on his brow nearly tangible.

"Um, yes, well he wrote a lot about how often he was put under the Imperius Curse, and anything and everything else from what he ate to how often he went to the loo." Another ripple of laughter around the room, and Harry perked up a bit. "Like I said, the papers were useless. Most of the books were, too. I gave two of them to Professor Snape because they were in foreign languages." He gave the professor in question a baleful look. If he had a problem with Harry helping out, why did he have to wait to air it in front of a whole room of people? Because he was Snape, Harry answered his own question, and he made humiliation an art form.

"Anyway," he continued, "The only book of great importance was Crouch's journal." He drew out the book in question and was gratified as nearly everyone in the room sat forward with interest. "There were only a few interesting bits. Unfortunately it ends in 1993, before the Quidditch World Cup and everything." Harry flipped open the book, riffling through the pages until he found what he sought. "This one," he handed the book to Dumbledore, not really sure what to say, "This one bothered me."

Dumbledore skimmed the page, and Harry watched in alarm as his face went expressionless. "Oh, dear me." Dumbledore set the book on his desk and pondered it before shifting his gaze behind Harry to where Snape stood. "Severus, do you remember when you came to me, several years ago, with your mark burning?"

Snape rustled and his response was sharp. "Quite vividly, thank you."

"Hmm." Dumbledore fiddled with his glasses. "A similar thing appears to have happened to Mr. Crouch. What could Voldemort have been doing in the mid-eighties that would have caused such an event? And more importantly, how? He was an incorporeal thing, not even a spirit. He should not have been able to affect magic in such a way."

Harry shifted, a little surprised that Dumbledore wasn't commenting on the rest. "What about the rest, sir? Reynard and all that?" He reached back into the box and withdrew the sheet detailing the brief notes about the manifestation. "This was with the potion recipes I gave Professor Snape. And you might want to take a look at the first page of the diary, too."

Dumbledore did so, his eyes tracking from the book to the parchment Harry offered. "Most unsettling," he said finally.

Harry blinked. 'Most unsettling?' That was it? "Sir, what is it? What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure. Severus, have you ever heard of this manifestation?"

"Potter already asked me." Snape sounded supremely irritated that Harry had possessed such initiative. "And no. You know about Reynard and his role in things, but I never heard a thing about this."

"Oh dear," Dumbledore said again.

"What?" Sirius looked as though remaining seated and still was an extreme effort.

"It appears that Mr. Crouch, as well as a friend of his by the name of Alfonse Reynard, laid down contingency plans." His eyes flicked to Harry with concern. "He implies here that after Voldemort's downfall, steps were taken to ensure Harry suffered a similar fate."

Sirius' hand closed abruptly and harshly on Harry's shoulder. "What did they do?"

"It doesn't say. It only says that whatever Reynard did, quite probably connected to this manifestation, will mean Harry's downfall."

"That's it?" Harry feared for his shoulder as Sirius' grip tightened even further.

"Uh, Sirius? Could you loosen up a bit?" he asked softly.

"Loosen up? Harry, we're talking about your life! Forgive me for being a little uptight about things."

"I think Harry means on his shoulder," Remus interjected gently.

"Oh. Sorry." Sirius relaxed his grip, looking a bit sheepish. "But really, Albus, what are we going to do if we don't know what the plan was?"

"I'm afraid there's nothing much we can do." For a moment Dumbledore looked angry. "Because of Fudge's incompetence our last source of information aside, perhaps, from Voldemort himself was given the Dementor's Kiss. Reynard was Kissed well over a decade ago," he added as Sirius opened his mouth.

"So we just wait?" Remus sounded just as worried as Sirius.

"Wait, and watch."

Harry groaned silently. Just what he wanted, all the teachers and prefects following him around like they had done his third year. Dumbledore gave him a somewhat stern look, apparently guessing Harry's thoughts. "Harry, I would ask that you refrain from your customary habits of ... stealthy activities." Another derisive snort from Snape.

"Yes, sir." Harry said, wondering what Snape would look like all blown up like his Aunt Marge.

"Good then. You can leave the box there against the wall." Dumbledore's smile returned as Harry rose and did as he was directed. "Thank you for coming up here so early, Harry." His eyes softened a little. "And don't worry too much about what you've read. I'm sure we will discover what Crouch was speaking of, if it is even a threat to you after all these years."

"But do you think Voldemort knows? I mean, Crouch had to have contact with him several times last year, so he could have told him about whatever it is."

"Quite possibly," Dumbledore agreed. "But as I said, don't worry too much about it. We will face this threat and deal with it."

"Of course we will." Sirius sounded much more stoutly assured than he had a moment ago. "And, good lord, Harry, do you ever eat? You're as thin as I was two years ago."

Harry shifted awkwardly, feeling the eyes of the whole room on him once again. He crossed his arms defensively, scuffing his foot on the carpet. "Er, I'm not that bad."

"Well, go to breakfast and eat five or six plates, will you?" Sirius' tone was jovial, but his eyes were concerned.

"Sure." Harry headed for the door, weaving his way through the maze of chairs before turning back. "Will you be here later?" he asked hopefully.

Sirius smiled happily. "Definitely. I'm staying here for a little over a week. I'll be seeing you, alright?"

"Great," Harry smiled back and slipped out the door. He would have preferred to stay, to hear the discussion that was bound to follow. He was a little irritated at his dismissal, as nicely put as it had been. Did they think he was an idiot? A group such as that, which both knew about Sirius and that Snape had been a Death Eater, not to mention didn't start panicking when Dumbledore spoke of Voldemort in the present tense, could serve only one purpose.

Harry turned away from the door and headed down the stairs with a sigh. Dumbledore had said he could be involved later. Next year, he had said.

No, Harry realized with a sinking feeling. He had said probably next year. Frustration bubbled up, tasting bitter in his mouth. Why was Dumbledore keeping him from fighting? Snape's words came unbidden. 'Salve his precious ego,' he thought almost savagely.

Harry turned his steps away from the Great Hall and headed instead for the lake. Skipping breakfast was becoming something of a habit, and it was easy to ignore Sirius' suggestion with his thoughts in such a whirl. He crossed the front lawn, breaking into a light jog. Since he was out here he might as well do his usual work-out. He found running relaxing, and he sometimes enjoyed the resulting exhaustion.

He had made it only halfway around the lake, and had yet to even break a sweat, when he spotted her. Padma sat on a conveniently sized rock, her feet tucked beneath her and her face creased in concentration as she read.

Harry slowed to a walk, his heart and stomach taking turns clenching at the sight of her. She was even more striking in the dazzling light of the rising sun than she had been last night in the moonlight. The hints of red he'd spotted in her hair were much more obvious, shimmering as she turned a page.

He was almost loath to disturb her, but the decision was taken out of his hands when she glanced up and saw him.

"Well, good morning." She closed her book and smiled at him. "Out for a run?"

"Yeah," he said, dropping to sit in the grass at her feet. "What about you?"

To his surprise, she blushed. "I actually was trying to avoid the Great Hall." She looked down, picking at her robes. "I don't know if you've heard this already, but some Hufflepuff girl saw us...you know...last night. By the time I got back to the dorms, half the girls were waiting to pounce on me."

"Oh," Harry said, caught off guard. "I didn't know. I got up really early this morning, and I haven't run into anybody but you." He hesitated, studying her. "I hope you don't mind. There are things--I mean dating me might be--"

She cut him off with a kiss, a soft long one that ended in a mutual but reluctant parting of lips. "I don't mind," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. "And don't ever feel like you can't talk to me about things. I know you ... I know things are hard for you sometimes."

"Thanks, Padma." He reached for her hair as he had done the night before. He could almost see himself getting addicted to the scent of it, sweet and spring morning fresh. "I do understand your avoiding the Great Hall. I, er, tend to do that myself."

"It shows," she said, gently poking his stomach.

"You think?" Harry looked down at himself. He knew he'd lost weight, but Padma was the second person to comment on it this morning.

"Definitely. You've lost at least ten pounds since I first saw you at your birthday party." She looked up, her face serious. "There wasn't much to lose in the first place, if anything."

Harry shifted uneasily, looking away. "I've been feeling a little off," he hedged. "Food just seems to make it worse."

"Have you seen Madam Pomfrey?"

"No." He made a face. "Do you know how often I've ended up in the hospital wing?"

She giggled a little. "You really need to work on that, you know." Harry laughed with her, relieved that she seemed off the subject. But his hopes were dashed as she continued, "But seriously, you're underweight. Will you go to Madam Pomfrey if you don't feel better in a few days?"

Harry chewed his lip. He was backed into a corner and he knew it. "I guess," he agreed.

"Good." Padma sat back, still looking a little concerned, her eyes lingering on Harry's torso, which was visible through the robes he'd opened for his run.

Harry cast about for another topic, and was quite relieved when one presented itself. "So what did you want to do about the rest of the school? About us, I mean."

"Well, they already know." She took the bait quite easily to Harry's relief. "I have a feeling the furor won't die down for a while." She flashed him a catlike smile. "You're a hot commodity, you know?"

"Yeah." Harry felt his ears flushing along with his face this time. "Even some Slytherins asked me to the Yule Ball last year."

Padma laughed, throwing her head back and exposing the graceful arch of her neck to Harry's hungry eyes. "I told you they weren't all bad."

"She was a little frightening. She was like a foot taller than me." Harry lifted a hand above his head, demonstrating. "And besides," he added as he dropped his hand and sobered, "I doubt any of them really like me. They just ... think they like me because of who I am."

Padma straightened, her keen mind catching the unasked question. "Well," she said carefully, "You don't have to worry about me. I, um," she blushed again, her hands twisting in her lap. "I think I really like you."

Harry blushed right along with her, and found himself wondering how silly they looked both bright red, neither willing to look at the other, studying their shoes in fascination. "I, er, I'm glad to know that," he said finally.

There was an awkward pause, neither of them sure where to go from there. Harry sighed inwardly. They'd stopped having these moments the second or third time they'd spoken. Now that they were dating it seemed like they were starting over again. No, he realized, not starting over, just starting something new. That thought reminded him of an idea he'd had.

"Hey, I just remembered. We have a Hogsmeade visit in a few weeks."

Padma looked up, nodding and smiling a little mischievously. "Yes, the weekend after the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match. I'm not really sure who I'll be cheering for."

"How about both? Then you're sure to win." Harry grinned right back.

"I think I'll do that." She cocked her head a little. "Besides, it's not like Cho can offer you much competition. She's a good enough Seeker, but she's nowhere near your league."

Harry swore to himself that he would ask Hermione about a charm to prevent blushing. This was getting truly ridiculous. "Er, thank you," he stuttered, then continued quickly. "Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to go? To Hogsmeade, I mean."

"Like a date?" Her grin softened to a pleased smile.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"I'd like that." Padma rose, collecting her book as she did. She smiled, obviously surprised and pleased as Harry recalled the lessons in etiquette he'd overheard Aunt Petunia giving an bored Dudley and took her book from her.

"Shall we brave the Great Hall, then?" he asked.

"Surely." She took his arm and they set off in a much more comfortable silence.

***

"So he tries the spell but he wasn't listening to Hermione. So instead of making the book glow when he thought about finding it, it exploded the whole thing."

Sirius cracked up, throwing back his head and laughing in delight. "I'm assuming there were paper bits everywhere?"

"Not just that." Harry grinned in remembrance. "The book was Hermione's copy of some Charms research manual thing. She was furious. She threatened to blow up Ron's copy of Quidditch Through the Ages in retaliation."

Sirius sat up straighter in his chair, still grinning. "I'm sure that made an impression."

"Oh yeah." The two sat in silence for a few moments, each enjoying the rare treat of the other's company.

"How is everything else?" Sirius set down his cup and regarded his godson.

"Oh, things are fine." Harry followed suit, waving away the plate of biscuits Sirius pushed towards him.

"Are you sure? Because I got this funny idea that if something were wrong you wouldn't write to me about it for fear of worrying me."

"What made you think that?" Harry tried to look as innocent as possible, but from Sirius' stern expression it wasn't doing much.

"Harry, I said it before, but you really are too thin. Is there something going on, is something bothering you?"

Harry studied the warmth in Sirius's eyes, the concern there. It was a new feeling for him, knowing that Sirius felt like that for him. True, Ron and Hermione were the best friends he could ever ask for, but they were his own age.

"Nothing aside from this threat. Reynard you know," he said finally. "And I don't think I'm too thin. It probably has a lot to do with Moody's class. We run and do sit-ups and stuff twice a week and I do stuff outside of class now, too."

"How is Moody?" Sirius asked, distracted.

"He seems good. Even more jumpy than before, I think, but good. The class is interesting. He keeps shooting spells randomly during the lesson, making sure we're paying attention." He frowned, thinking back. "Actually, he shoots spells at me, mostly. At least one every other class."

"Uh, I'm sure he's just trying to make sure you're prepared." Sirius looked unaccountably nervous.

"Sure," Harry said, frowning at him. "What--"

"Quidditch game this weekend?" Sirius cut in quickly.

Harry stared at him a moment, but then just shrugged and followed his lead. "Er, yeah. Against Ravenclaw."

"And you're captain?" There was no mistaking the pride in Sirius's voice.

"Yeah. Prefect too." Harry reached up and touched his badge without really noticing. "I'm pretty busy, but it's nice."

"Especially being able to take points from the other houses?" Sirius grinned knowingly.

"Well, actually, I haven't really done any of that. Hermione took points from Gryffindor for these second years who were trying to reproduce that charm where Eloise Midgen removed her nose." He grimaced in remembrance. That really hadn't been pretty. "But other than that, I don't think either of us has taken any points."

"No points from Slytherin?"

"No. It's kinda weird, Malfoy has been avoiding me sort of. I think I really annoyed him last time or something." Harry wrinkled his brow. It was odd that Malfoy hadn't been about to harass and bother them, and Harry doubted that he would be so affected by that one little chat. "Besides," he added with a grimace, "he's a prefect, too so he'd just give the points right back."

"And it would all just go to hell from there," Sirius nodded in understanding. "At least you've thought it through."

"Actually I didn't. My, er, friend Padma was the one who told me that part."

Sirius sat forward with sudden interest. "Friend?" he asked keenly. "Is that all?"

"Er." Harry felt heat blooming in his cheeks and winced at Sirius's triumphant expression.

"Ah-ha! Harry has a crush!" His godfather scooted a little closer, looking highly pleased. "Tell me about her. Is she a stunner?"

"Yeah," Harry let a grin surface. "But she's not just my crush. She's my girlfriend."

Sirius sat back, surprised. "Really?" He looked momentarily sad. "You are growing up fast, aren't you?" he murmured, and Harry, seeing a flash of regret in his godfather's eyes, hurried to distract him.

"She's a Ravenclaw in my year. She's--well, she's beautiful." His grin broadened, "And really nice and smart and--"

"Okay," Sirius lifted a hand, laughing. "I think I get it." He leaned closer again, all laughter forgotten. "I'm really glad you've found somebody, Harry."

"Why's that, besides the obvious 'girls are really nice'?"

"Just that I'm glad you have someone to talk to besides Ron and Hermione. And," he looked a little unsure, "I think you need all the love you can get."

Harry shifted, his throat tightening. "Padma and I just started going out two days ago, Sirius. We're not exactly planning the wedding."

"Well, I would hope not." Sirius ruffled his hair. "And that's not what I meant. Just...companionship I guess. A willing ear, another brain to bounce things off of." He paused a moment, looking half stern, half amused. "But I better not be getting word of any Harry Juniors on the way anytime soon."

"Sirius!" Harry smacked his shoulder lightly, trying to ignore the fact that he could feel the fires in his face re-igniting.

"Well, it had to be said." Sirius hesitated, looking suddenly uneasy. "And if you have any questions, you know, about girls and ... sex you can always come to--"

"I know," Harry cut him off, standing quickly. "But I've just remembered I promised to meet Hermione for Transfiguration homework."

He waved over his shoulder at a bemused Sirius, practically bolting from the secure room where his godfather was staying. He loved Sirius deeply, with a sort of immediate, instinctive trust and devotion, but that didn't mean he wanted to discuss ... that with him.

Harry paused just inside the third floor corridor, waiting until his face felt a normal temperature again before he stepped out and headed for the common room. He *did* have to do his Transfiguration, and considering he didn't even know where to start turning wood into paper, he probably should seek Hermione out.

Or Padma.

Maybe not. Harry scowled as the flush spread down past his collar and seemed to affect his entire body with an odd sort of squirmy tingling. Weird. Definitely better to go the Hermione route this time.

***

Harry wasn't just nervous. He was terrified. His hands were white-knuckled where he gripped his broom, and it took all of his concentration to keep his entire body from shaking. He couldn't remember being this uptight, not when going into the Chamber of Secrets, not even when asking Padma out.

It was his first Quidditch match as Gryffindor captain, and he thought he might just pass out. It was one thing to *play* Quidditch and let Oliver take care of all the details. Now he was the one making the plays, telling the players what strategies to use. The performance of the team reflected on him, and he was absolutely positive that this was going to be one of the most humiliating experiences of his life.

"Harry? You alright in there?"

He looked over at Ginny. In the traditional Quidditch line-up, the Chasers came out first, followed by the Beaters, then the Keeper and the Seeker last. Ginny looked a bit green about the gills as well, and Harry felt a little relieved.

"Just nervous. Captain and all."

She nodded, her long red braid catching the light. Harry noticed for the first time that her hair was different from Ron's. Ron had a nearly orange mop, so violently colored that it looked like dye. Ginny's hair was like what Harry remembered when he'd first met Charlie, more of a burnished copper, catching the light in shades of gold and auburn.

"Is there something wrong with my hair?"

Harry jumped, feeling his face heating a little. "Er, no. Nothing. Uh, I think it's time to go," he added in relief as he heard Lee Jordan's voice echoing around the pitch.

"And here are the Ravenclaws! There's Lyle, Montgomery, Clermont! Then Captain Ross with his fellow Beater Salmon! And Keeper Gibbons and Seeker Chang!"

Harry's nerves returned with a vengeance. He had carefully not thought about the fact that he would be facing his former crush Cho Chang in this match. He had even more assiduously worked to avoid even looking at her throughout the first month of the year, and, from the few glimpses he'd caught of her, she was returning the favor. He wondered with a sick sort of fascination if she hated him, if she blamed him for the death of the boy she had so obviously cared for.

"Harry! Let's go!" Ginny was half bouncing, half hysterical.

Harry gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and kicked off the ground outside the locker room, soaring behind Ginny into the pitch as Lee announced them.

"And new Keeper Weasley (they do seem to produce spectacular players in many positions, don't they?) and newly elected Captain Potter!"

Harry landed in the line with the rest of his teammates, and shook hands with the Ravenclaw Beater Ross. The guy had Beater written all over him, all broad shoulders and imposingly muscular upper body. But his hand shake was polite, and he and Harry exchanged tense smiles.

"And they're off!" Lee hollered as Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "We've been hearing marvelous things about this Ravenclaw line-up, particularly the Chasers. But they better watch out, the Gryffindors are being led by the best Quidditch player to come out of--"

"Jordan!"

"Right. Anyhow, it's Lyle with the Quaffle, look at him go! He's shooting up the pitch, Weasley lunges...but she's a little late and Ravenclaw scores!" Lee sounded disappointed, and even from his position ten meters above the rest of the game, Harry could see Ginny's burning cheeks. He arced over the action below, keeping one eye on the rapidly passing Quaffle and the smashing Bludgers and always searching for that little glint of gold.

"And Spinnet with the Quaffle, passes to Bell to Johnson to Spinnet to Johnson (slow down girls, I can't keep up!) and to Bell who scores! Ten-Ten!"

As the minutes passed, Harry realized that Lee hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that the Ravenclaw Chasers were excellent. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were working hard, and the Keepers on both sides were seeing more action than was usual. But the Snitch had yet to appear.

Harry glanced up a moment, looking for Cho. He was a bit disconcerted when he saw her about five meters away, watching him fixedly. As soon as their eyes met she looked away, but it still unnerved Harry. Reminding himself to focus, Harry returned to the search for the Snitch.

An hour and a half later, Harry was beginning to develop a throbbing headache from his constant squinting. The Snitch hadn't even flickered, and everyone, including the spectators, was getting a bit impatient. He'd called a time-out ten minutes ago, both to give his players a bit of a breather and to give the twins a little talking to about those missed Bludgers. The score stood at an even 160-160, and there had been no goals scored in the past twenty minutes. The Quaffle was quite literally shuttling back and forth, snatched from mid-air by the Chasers and bounced off various body parts of the Keepers.

Perhaps most worrisome for Harry himself was the growing dizziness he was feeling. He kept telling himself it had to do with his intense optical focusing, but a little voice in the back of his head kept asking when he'd last eaten. Harry realized, after a bit of thought, that he couldn't even remember.

He just needed to catch that bloody Snitch, then it could all be over and he could go take a nap. Or maybe he'd try to eat a little, maybe some broth or something that wouldn't--

He saw it. The Snitch wasn't even really moving, just hovering above the match and only about two meters above Cho's head. If he went for it now, she would get it without even really having to work for it.

Harry paused a moment, thinking hard. Unbidden, a line from one of those movies Dudley watched endlessly flashed through his mind. "Fly casual," he muttered to himself, and as unobtrusively as possible he began circling towards Cho. He carefully kept his eyes away from the Snitch, knowing Cho was watching him again. He prayed the dratted ball wouldn't just go and disappear on him, but there wasn't really anything he could do about that.

He pulled up a bit, as if to go over Cho and continue on his way past her ... and suddenly snapped his left arm out, twisting his broom upward to nab the Snitch hovering just out of Cho's line of sight. He heard Cho's gasp of surprise, and it took Lee about five seconds to even notice Harry holding up the Snitch above the rest of the match.

"And Potter has the Snitch! Where the hell did he--"

"Jordan!"

"Sorry, Professor. Where the heck did he get it? I didn't even see him dive or anything! That's a Gryffindor victory, 310 to 160."

Harry circled towards the field, smiling at the explosion of cheers from the Gryffindor stands. It was funny, he mused suddenly, how he didn't mind having the attention of so many people on the Quidditch pitch, yet off of it he would do almost anything to avoid so much notice.

The rest of his team had already landed, and they were cheering as best they could through their exhaustion. The Chasers all looked like they might just fall asleep on their feet, and Harry could sympathize. As he touched down and tossed the Snitch to Madam Hooch, he felt like he might just join them. The ground seemed to be moving under his feet, and his vision was swirling in ways it really shouldn't.

He was brought back to reality with a jolt as a smaller body collided with him.

"Brilliant catch, Harry!" Ginny cried, embracing him tightly.

Harry goggled at her, never having seen the usually reserved Ginny act in such a way. But he forgot all about it as the rest of the team descended, as well as most of Gryffindor house. He thought he caught a glimpse of Padma, waving a Ravenclaw scarf but still smiling at him, but he couldn't be sure.

"Bloody hell, that was intense," Alicia commented, linking her arm through Harry's as the team began to bulldoze their way toward the locker rooms.

"I know. I don't think many of us will be staying long at the party," Harry answered, leaning as inconspicuously as possible on Alicia's arm. The ground was doing this funny rolling movement now, and he really needed the support.

"The Ravenclaws were a lot better than we expected, but that's alright considering we still won--Harry? You alright?" Alicia paused just outside the locker room door, turning to regard him worriedly.

Harry was dimly aware of the rest of the team gathering around, of other voices inquiring about him, but he honestly couldn't find the strength to answer. Standing up was just too much effort, and he dimly heard Alicia cry out as he crumpled beside her. There was a sort of rushing in his ears, and then all was quiet and dark.