Harry Potter and the Summer of the Dementors

When he woke early the next morning, he knew instinctively that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Throwing aside the covers, he showered and dressed, and went down for breakfast.

"Not too much, Dobby," he pleaded. He knew he had to eat something, but the sick feeling of apprehension in his stomach didn't help.

He leafed slowly through "Winning Strategies in Quidditch" as the time ticked by. Finally it was nearly half past nine, and he dug out his broom from the cupboard. He realised he should have given it a polish before the match, but it was too late now to do anything but rub a cloth down it. He took along his cleaning kit, however, just in case.

Half past nine came, and he Apparated into the clubroom. Charles and Marco were already there, and Charles came over with some robes.

"Here you are."

"How's Adam?" he asked.

"Out of hospital, but the muscles will take a few days to heal."

"Right," said Harry, relieved that it hadn't been worse.

The robes were a light silver grey, and fortunately fitted him quite well. Other members of the team began to arrive, and Harry took the chance while they were changing to go over his broom once more.

At ten, Charles called them all together for a team talk, although he didn't have anything new to say. Marco added a few comments, then it was time to go out to the box. Twenty five past, and the box opened for their fly out.

He heard the commentator calling out names: "Nardone! Fleming! Akabussi! Moss! Magnussen! Scott! And ... Potter!"

He heard the home team cheering away, and then another round of applause and shouting as the Cannons team flew out. The two teams circled the stadium and took up their positions. The referee stepped up and blew his whistle: the Snitch and the Quaffle had been released.

Immediately Harry zoomed as high as he dared and began circling the pitch, eyes scanning from side to side. He was aware of the Cannons' Seeker doing the same. Down in the stands there were roars of "Tigers! Tigers! Tigers!" and answering roars of "Cannons!"

"Nardone takes the Quaffle, and heads for goal. He dodges a Bludger. And another! He shoots. But Keeper Schofield saves."

After half an hour's play the score stood at 30-10 in the Cannon's favour. Both Seekers realised that the Snitch was going to be elusive, and began sizing each other up. They circled the pitch, each keeping an eye on the other. Harry thought to himself: was it worth trying? Why not? Give it a go.

He circled slowly higher and higher, then paused, as if scanning the pitch. He could see the other Seeker a little way below him. Okay, here goes. He flattened himself against his broom and went down in a power dive, aiming at the foot of one of the goal posts. Faster and faster now, not looking behind. Wait for the blades of grass to become visible ... he pulled out between two of the posts, skimming low over the ground. The crowd was roaring, but he daren't look back yet ... pulling up and up ... and looking behind. The Cannons' Seeker was low on the ground too, some way behind, but obviously he had not been entirely fooled. The two Seekers warily circled the pitch again.

Harry heard the latest score: "Cannons 60, Tigers 20!" If he didn't find the Snitch fairly soon, it wouldn't make any difference anyway.

Then the Cannons' Seeker dived. Feint or not? Two seconds in which to decide ... and Harry held where he was. His opponent skimmed low then spiralled up in his turn, realising his feint hadn't worked. Now both of them were dipping down from time to time, trying to spook the other. But Harry realised that time was not on his side. He'd need to get the Snitch sooner rather than later. He began circling the perimeter again, some twenty feet below the other Seeker, who was sticking closer to the centre.

Hang on! What was that there? Careful to keep flying steadily along, Harry held his breath. Yes, that could be the Snitch, hovering near one of the goals. He waited until he was alongside it and dived. The other Seeker was ignoring him, thinking it to be another feint. But the elusive golden ball began fluttering towards the centre. Some of the crowd had seen it now and had begun shouting. He urged the Firebolt forward ... the gap was closing ... and the other Seeker dived!

Almost as if it was aware of the Cannons' Seeker descending on it, the Snitch stopped ... and Harry reached out and seized it! He soared up, holding the struggling Snitch tight in his hand. A roar went up from the crowd: "Tigers! Tigers! Tigers!". He heard the referee's whistle blow. They had won!

The Cannons' Seeker looked at him disbelieving, but zoomed over to shake hands, before his teammates encircled him, clapping him on the back. From below he heard the commentator: "The Tigers' Seeker, Harry Potter of Hogwarts, takes the Snitch. The Tigers win by 170 points to 60!" The crowd were roaring even louder.

He hadn't felt so happy for a long time. They'd won! He'd caught the Snitch! Slowly the team performed a lap of honour, Harry still holding the Snitch up. Then they slowly spiralled down to the clubhouse. Charles was standing there open mouthed. They touched down, and the referee ran up to congratulate him before rescuing the Snitch. He was carried into the clubhouse by the rest of the team, and dumped on the floor.

"There! I said he could do it," cried Marco.

His hand was still being shaken, his shoulder grasped, hands were clapping him on the back.

"We needed a win," said Charles. "Well done."

Slowly the team began to relax, then Harry heard a familiar voice. "Oh dear, creating havoc wherever he goes!" Turning to the door he saw Arbuthnot, a big smile on his face. Behind him were Mr Weasley, and Ron and Ginny!

"Well done, mate!" Ron shouted. Harry grinned.

"Not content with rescuing the Ministry's bacon, he now has to do the same for the Tigers," Arbuthnot went on.

"Yeah, well."

Adam came limping in to shake his hand. "Well done. I don't think I'd have pulled that one off!"

"Hey, how are you?"

Adam grimaced. "Not too bad. I'll live."

Harry suddenly realised he was standing there all hot and sweaty. "Look, I'm just going for a shower and change. Back in a minute."

"Okay."

The other team members were already changing when he went in. There was a good deal of banter going on.

"Thought you'd had it when that Bludger came for you."

"Their Keeper was good - that shot of yours ... I thought he had no chance."

"We need to sharpen up on the defence. We lost two goals we needn't have done."

Harry was greeted with another cheer.

"Thinking of turning professional, are you?"

"I'd love to."

"There'll be a place here for you."

"I'll think about it," he promised, though with no real conviction.

"Why bother with work when you can play Quidditch all day?"

By the time he'd showered, changed, and got his things together, the changing room was empty. He went out to see Mr Weasley talking to Arbuthnot, Ron and Ginny looking very excited, and the team standing by. Charles came up to him.

"Dad's offered us a party at home to celebrate the victory."

It took Harry a second or two to realise that meant Arbuthnot. "Oh, right. That's kind of him."

"Well, if it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have had you playing."

"What about poor old Adam?"

Charles shrugged. "He's good, but not in your class. You gave the Cannons' Seeker a run for his money, and he really is good."

"Right."

Arbuthnot came over. "All ready then? I'll make a Portkey." He reached for one of the robes. "Okay, everyone, grab a corner." They all crowded round. Arbuthnot muttered "Portus!" and with the sickening whirl he'd come to associate with Portkeys, Harry was tugged away, tumbling over and over until they arrived with a thump on a lawn.

Harry looked round. Behind them was a large house, old, and overgrown with ivy, and in front was a long lawn running down to what must be a cliff, because calm blue sea stretched out in front of them.

"Must be near Bournemouth somewhere," muttered Ginny.

"How do you know?"

She pointed. "See those chalk cliffs over there? They're the Needles, on the Isle of Wight."

"Oh."

"It's on days like this that I really appreciate living here," said a voice behind them. Harry turned to see Arbuthnot.

"It's lovely," said Ginny.

"I know. Well, Harry, congratulations again. Saving more bacon, eh?"

"I suppose so," said Harry, embarrassed.

"Well, come on into the house."

He led the way. Harry saw two or three wizards unobtrusively patrolling the garden.

"Security," said Arbuthnot sadly. "I'm not sure how effective they would be if the Dark Forces decided to descend, but the house can't be left totally unprotected."

French windows opened out onto a terrace, and half the party had already got bottles of Butterbeer, and were standing out in the sun. Harry managed to get two bottles; one for him and one for Ginny. Ron came fighting his way through the crowd.

"Talk about jammy," he exclaimed.

"That wasn't luck, that was skill," said Harry with dignity.

"No, I mean getting onto the team in the first place. And then beating the Cannons on top of it all."

Harry laughed. "Sorry about that." He knew that the Cannons were Ron's team.

"Nah, don't worry about it."

Arbuthnot appeared at their elbow again. "Harry, Ron, I don't think you've met my wife. Anthea, darling, this is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter."

Mrs Arbuthnot was tall, blond, good looking and very confident. "How good of you to come along. And I hear you've been doing great things - both of you."

Ron was redder than Harry had seen for a long time. Then: "Mrs Arbuthnot?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell your husband that Ravenclaw isn't the best House at Hogwarts?"

This was rewarded with a peal of laugher in which Arbuthnot himself joined in. "What do you mean?" she said.

"Well, he keeps going on about it."

"But he's right. I was in Ravenclaw myself. That's how we met."

Ron was speechless. He stood there with his mouth open like a goldfish. Finally he closed it, and said: "Yeah, well, there are some good people in it."

"Just one or two," said Arbuthnot. "Anyway, dear, I'd better go and introduce you to the rest of the team. If you'll excuse us ..."

Ron looked at the departing backs and turned to Harry and groaned. "Why do I always do it?"

"Keep working on it, Ron. You'll get there one day."

Soon the party was ushered indoors for a buffet lunch. Harry and Ron spent some time talking to Marco about what it was like to be a professional Quidditch player. Near the end, Mr Weasley came over and took Harry by the elbow.

"A word in your ear."

Ron looked at them quizzically as Mr Weasley led Harry away into an adjoining room. Already in there was Arbuthnot - and Dumbledore.

"Professor!" cried Harry.

"I gather congratulations are in order," said Dumbledore.

Harry grinned. "I suppose so."

"And what does your friend Ron say about the defeat of the Cannons?"

"I think he'll live with it."

Mr Weasley closed the door, and Arbuthnot said to them: "Please, have a seat, all of you."

The room had some large comfortable armchairs, and Harry settled himself into one.

"So you've been having an interesting holiday," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye.

"You could say that."

"Fighting off Dementors."

"Ron was very useful there."

"Was he? An impressive Patronus?"

"Very."

"Excellent. Coming along well, is Ron. It's a pity it had to come to this though."

"You did vote for the action in the Wizengamot," Arbuthnot reminded him.

"Indeed. Although with a very heavy heart. Anyway, enough of this. I'm more interested in your meeting with the goblins. Can you humour an old man and tell your story once again?"

"Of course." And Harry began relating what had happened in the past few days. "I'm going back there on Monday," he finished.

"All this is very fascinating," said Dumbledore slowly. "The goblins have kept very much themselves to themselves until now. They must either be very worried, or have decided that perhaps it might be time to make contact again. Either way, you are the ideal emissary, Harry."

"We have the message for you," said Arbuthnot, handing him an envelope. Harry noticed it was not sealed. "Do you want to read it?"

Harry hesitated. "If I don't," he said slowly, "it makes me seem like a messenger boy. If I do, I'm a representative of the Ministry."

"The choice is yours," said Arbuthnot.

"But what I could do," Harry went on, "is not to read it, and tell them I have deliberately chosen not to read it so as to preserve my neutrality, so to speak."

There was a moment or two silence as the others digested this.

"Brilliant!" said Dumbledore. "In other words, you've told them that you are not compromised."

"Something like that."

"The ideal solution."

"All right," said Arbuthnot. "Let's leave it like that then, shall we? And we agree to give Harry carte blanche in any talks?"

Harry gulped. "Do you really mean that?"

"You've just said you're not a Ministry representative. That means we're not committed to anything you say."

"In other words, you can disown me."

"Not quite. You can say what you like to them, but whatever you say, it's not official Ministry policy."

"Fair enough." Harry stared down at the envelope, then stuffed into a pocket. "That's that, then."

"Right," said Mr Weasley, "let's go and join the others, shall we?"

The appearance of Dumbledore diverted everyone's attention away from their little meeting - all except Ron, that is, who gave Harry another quizzical look as he emerged. Harry gave him a small smile in return, but felt guilty about keeping his friend in the dark. He made his way over to Ron.

"How's the curse breaking going?"

Ron's face lit up. "It's great. And working with Bill's really good, and he's teaching me loads."

"That can't be bad."

"It's difficult," said Ron, screwing up his face. "I really wanted to be an Auror, but I can see that working for Gringotts wouldn't be half bad. They really pay well."

"Choices, choices. You don't have to decide for another year yet, anyway."

"I know. But it's a thought anyway." He paused for a moment. "How are things with you?"

"Not bad. Er ... it's a bit tricky."

"Hush hush?"

"Sort of."

"Yeah, Dad said something. It's okay, mate, keep it to yourself."

"I'll tell you as soon as I can," said Harry. "It's only that, well, I've promised, if you see what I mean."

"Yeah. It's okay. I mean, I can take a good guess. And I imagine it's, well, a bit sensitive."

"That's right. Anyway," he said, changing the subject, "I thought you wanted to be a professional Quidditch player."

"Nah. I've realised I'm not good enough for that. I mean, watching the game today - those blokes really do know how to play."

"That's one of the things about being Seeker - you never really get to see the game. You're always either watching for the Snitch or for the other Seeker."

"Both of you were really trying to psych out the other."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. I reckon I won that. He thought I was just pulling another stunt."

The party went on until late afternoon, when some of the players started to excuse themselves. Dumbledore had already left, and Mr Weasley came up to Harry: "We're going back to the Burrow now. Want to come along?"

"Sure."

"Good. I'm sure Molly will be pleased to see you."

It was restful sitting in the garden in the late evening sunshine. Mrs Weasley had made a salad, and brought it out for an al fresco meal. Ron was full of his exploits at Gringotts, curse breaking with Bill, and for once Mrs Weasley sat and listened approvingly.

"Do you want to stay over?" asked Ron. "We've a spare bedroom these days."

"Okay. But I haven't got any things." Ron looked at him as though he were stupid. "Right, yeah, I can just pop home and get some." Home. It was really the first time he'd thought of Grimmauld Place like that. But sitting there in his chair, he thought of his room - and he was there. He quickly stuffed some things into a bag, and then - he was back in the Weasley's garden.

"Harry, you're doing it again," said Mrs Weasley.

"Doing what?"

"Apparating without a sound."

"Sorry."

"Useful skill," said Mr Weasley mildly. "Excellent for an Auror."

"Hm," said Mrs Weasley. "By the way, Hermione is working at Gringotts too, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Ron said.

"See anything of her?"

"She's in the Arithmancy Department. Not quite my thing."

"Oh." Mrs Weasley was silent for a moment. "Are you and she, well ...?"

"Mum!" cried an outraged Ron. If it hadn't have been so dark, Harry was sure he would have seen him go beetroot red.

"Only asking, dear."

"It's called tact, Mum," said Ginny quietly.

"Oh."

"Anyway, she prefers Quidditch players," said Ron savagely.

"Not this one," Harry said quickly. Mrs Weasley seemed a little bewildered. "Victor Krum was keen on her," he explained, "but that was ages ago."

"Well, have you a girlfriend, Harry?"

"Mum!" said Ginny again. "There's one thing you don't talk to teenagers about, and that's their love life."

Again: "Oh."

"Leave it, Molly," said Mr Weasley. There was a note in his voice which Harry hadn't really heard before, a note of kindness yet firmness.

There was a long silence. "Sorry," Mrs Weasley said eventually. "Let's talk about something else."

"Topics not to be talked about," said Mr Weasley, "Ginny's OWL results, NEWTs, Quidditch, Dementors, girlfriends, boyfriends, and work."

"Doesn't leave much," said Ron.

"Oh, I don't know," said Mr Weasley. "Use your imagination."

There was silence from Ron and a giggle from Ginny.

"Talking of jobs," said Harry, "which we shouldn't, Dean's going to work for Ollivander."

"When did he tell you about that?" asked Ron.

"After the party," said Harry, and the conversation was able to move onto safer ground.

Sunday was a more relaxed day. Mr Weasley had a chance to wind down after the gruellingly long days at the Ministry. Mrs Weasley fussed around him, and he smiled at her gratefully. Harry, Ron and Ginny took their brooms out, not so much to play a game, as to fly in the open air and enjoy the sunshine. Mrs Weasley cooked an excellent lunch, and they all snoozed in deck chairs.

Around six o'clock Harry announced he was going home. Mrs Weasley tried to persuade him to stay to supper, but he said he needed to be back. He went upstairs to collect his things, and as he came out of his room, Mr Weasley was outside on the landing.

"Hope everything goes well tomorrow," he said mildly.

"Thanks," said Harry, and smiled.

Downstairs, he said goodbye to Ron and Ginny, and thanked Mrs Weasley for letting him stay. Then it was back to Grimmauld Place.