Harry Potter and the Flying Squad

During the next days, Harry was sailing through Heaven. To the objective eye, sailing would look more like broomstick flying, and Heaven hung pretty low above ground, but there was no doubt about his feelings. The usual patterns of time seemed replaced by the measurements before, during, and after patrol flights with Cho.

All this played only in his mind, or so he thought. His self-delusions received deceiving support from his friends, who had the decency not to tease him - or more precisely, tease him not more than was unavoidable.

The only person who had no intention of playing blind, deaf, and mute was Fleur. The day after his conversation with Cho, she passed him at the breakfast table. A look in Harry's face was enough to tell her that yes, he'd followed her order and yes, the answer had been positive.

Strolling to the teachers' table, Fleur met Cho's stare and waved, not the least bit annoyed when Cho didn't wave back.

Glancing up occasionally, Harry watched Cho and Almyra in agitated discussion, giving proof that at least Cho shared such news with her friend.

For himself, the issue was still very sensitive. In a way, he felt grateful for Fleur's genuine attitude, and hoped he'd get used to a more natural style until the ball, or afterwards. In the meantime - well, if he felt embarrassed, it didn't matter, he wouldn't have exchanged the scenario for any other.

Harry's happiness had melted all remnants of the ice between himself, Ron, and Hermione. Arriving at the breakfast table, he'd been determined to target the conflict between him and Ron, but, somehow, it had dissolved.

"Ron," he started, "sorry I didn't make it yesterday. Can we talk after breakfast?"

"That's okay, after breakfast is fine with me." Then Ron raised the white flag further by asking, "How was your flight?"

"Super!" Harry beamed. "I met Hagrid. He'll meet us next weekend." At the memory of Hagrid's remark and the scene afterwards, he couldn't prevent a small giggle.

"What's so funny?" asked Ron.

Harry would have preferred to keep the story to himself; however, after terms with Ron had improved only seconds ago, there was no choice. So he told his friends about Hagrid's choice of words and about his own flying jokes. The story caused so much giggling that other students were looking at them.

"I bet you had to pay afterwards," said Hermione, "listening to Cho's comments."

"Not at all." He hastened to defend Cho, realizing too late that Hermione had prompted him to reveal more. "Yes, we talked, although she didn't want to at first, but then I was able to persuade her."

"Really?" Hermione voice was neutral.

"Yes. She'd missed dessert, so I went to the kitchen and got some sweets."

That led to another wave of giggles, followed by a respectful look from Ron. "Harry, that's a clever trick," he said.

"And then?" asked Hermione. "Did she eat or talk?"

Harry saw the opportunity to close the subject. "Both; we talked about the Triwizard Tournament - about Cedric. I told her all about it."

He was right. Neither Hermione nor Ron asked any more questions.

The private conversation with Ron in his mind, Harry started toward the library, the place they'd agreed upon. Yet before he could reach the staircase, he was intercepted by Cho, with Almyra trailing behind.

"Good morning!" Cho's voice sounded alarmingly cheerful. "Say, didn't you tell me that breakfast wasn't your best time?"

"Yes, why?"

"Oh, a few minutes ago, I couldn't help but see a lot of fun at your table." Cho's eyes, almond-shaped by nature, had widened in mock astonishment.

"Well, um - you know, we had a few differences lately, and - er, this morning, we managed to clear them up."

"What a coincidence ... And I just happened to be, say, a witness?"

"Yes ... What else?"

"Dunno ..." Cho looked innocent. "You three sounded like a bunch of chickens - you know, these li'l birds."

Watching his expression of guilt and uneasiness, she laughed. "Harry, you're a bad liar. But you're too close to a source of excellent cakes, so I'll forgive you."

He still felt shaky when he met Ron in the library.

His friend looked self-conscious. "I had a talk with Fred and George. They told me that I missed a splendid evening. Then I talked to Lee. Now I'd like to - "

Harry tried to interrupt, but Ron waved him silent.

" - to talk with Bob. So, if you could introduce us, I could put things straight."

Harry jabbed him, grinning. "I know what you mean. No need to say more, you - "

"Me too, I know what I am. No need to say more." And with these words, the Flying Squad no longer hung between them as taboo.

* * *

At their second patrol, Harry waited for Cho with another parcel from the house-elves.

She looked at the parcel, then at him. "Harry - it's obvious that you're the wrong person to ask, but did it ever cross your mind that people can eat too much?"

Duddley's image appeared in Harry's mind. He started to giggle, unable to stop.

He looked away from her to calm down - sure enough, seeing her face again started the next wave of helpless shaking.

Eventually, Cho said, "I better not ask what's so funny, otherwise we're never going to make that flight. I take it, at least it's not me."

It sobered him up sufficiently, though just for a moment, to assure her that no, she wasn't the reason, hee hee.

They agreed to save the habit for special occasions.

Thinking about it, Harry asked, "Then what's a special occasion?"

"I'm sure you'll recognize one if you see one." Seeing his doubtful face, Cho added, "Well, if not, I'll point them out to you."

Now both of them had to fight fits of giggles.

Halfway calmed down, Harry started to carry the parcel back inside.

"Are you mad??" Cho looked genuinely shocked. "The new rule's only in effect as of tomorrow."

* * *

It was after lunch. Harry and Cho, on patrol, had already passed the second turning point. The day hadn't brought rain; the air was dry but cold and unfriendly, a first harbinger of the coming winter.

While crossing meadows and reaped fields, Harry coudn't shake off a disturbing thought. A week from now, the teams would change partners again. He would fly with Patrick, Cho would fly with Bob. The image made his stomach twist; he didn't know how he would stand it.

There would be a last patrol, which certainly would count as a special occasion. And then?

As easy-going as it felt between him and Cho during their patrols, Harry had found no way to extend that state beyond the limits of the Flying Squad. Under different circumstances, he might have invited her to a visit in Hogsmeade, but Dumbledore had cancelled such visits.

It was frustrating how badly the confined space of Hogwarts was suited for socializing if you - like Harry - felt terrified at the thought of other students watching.

The lake came into view. The water surface showed some motion, more than could be explained with the slight breeze. On the far, Hogwarts side, figures were visible. Harry stopped in mid-air, gesturing at Cho to catch up.

She reached him and stopped. "What's the matter? We're too close together, remember what Hooch said?"

Harry pointed at the lake, where the waves were getting stronger. "Something's going on there."

The waves seemed to come from a point close to the center of the lake, quite as if a deep-water fountain had opened.

Cho examined the surface, then turned to him. "Okay, let's get back to report it." Seeing his expression, she added, "Hey - our job is to watch and to inform, nothing else!"

Harry pointed at the tiny figures on the other end. "They're already informed ... and Dumbledore also mentioned exploration. See that point where the waves are coming from? C'mon, let's give it a closer look."

"No, Harry, we don't know what it is. That's just the kind of foolish - "

"Oh, c'mon, one pass, full speed - we're not going to stop there and wait for something to catch us." Without waiting for her answer, he pushed forward, pursued by an angry shout.

Glancing back, he saw Cho speeding up.

He approached the lakeside in a gentle sloping dive. Passing the shore, he steadied the Firebolt and scurried over the water, less than a feet above the waves. He couldn't make out any details beneath the surface; even under best conditions, the water was nowhere near transparent.

Another ring-shaped surge erupted ahead.

As he was about to reach its origin, the surface of the bubble rose and threatened to swallow him, stretched as he was on his broomstick.

He jerked to the side, pushing upward.

The top of the wave hit his feet. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed something deep down, glowing like a giant ruby, then he was free.

Keeping his speed, he raced to the opposite shore, the one closest to the school. Just as he came over the ground, he stalled and dismounted.

Turning, he saw Cho arriving.

She came over to him, fuming. "You - you fool! You were almost caught!"

"I wet my feet, that's all. Don't wet your p- "

A hissing sound from the lake made Harry turn, probably saving him from more diatribe, because Cho was staring at the same spectacle.

A huge shape erupted from the lake, streams of water spilling over its sides.

Astonished, Harry watched the shape gain contours. It was a ship ... a familiar-looking ship ... the ship from Durmstrang!

"Attention - Flying Squad!" shouted a voice, Lupin's voice.

Turning, Harry saw Lupin pointing at him and Cho.

"You two, up to the dragons! Red alert, but no action until further notification ... Go!" Not waiting for a reply, Lupin turned to another patrol team.

Mounting his Firebolt, Harry called, "Cho, you lead, I'll tail!"

Cho jumped into the air, and her Comet gained speed.

He followed, tempering the urge to whoosh past her and let his Firebolt run free.

The treetops flicked away under their feet. Passing a clearing, Harry noticed a dim shadow on the periphery of his vision. Had it been a unicorn? A Centaur?

They reached the first nest. Nobody in sight.

Next one, then the third. A figure was walking to a hut, and looked up as Cho zoomed in.

She shouted something.

Closing in, Harry recognized the figure. It was Charlie.

"... nothing until you're told!" Cho was gesticulating.

Harry reached them and was greeted by Charlie, who asked, "What's the ship?"

"Looks like that Durmstrang ship from last year."

"And what are the dragons supposed to do? Set it on fire?"

Cho waved impatiently. "Maybe, whatever's suitable. You know as much as we do, but one thing's for sure - this isn't a visit for afternoon tea."

Charlie nodded in agreement.

"Bye," called Cho, and she and Harry took off again.

On their way back, it felt even harder for Harry to keep the formation he himself had suggested. He wanted to know what had happened meanwhile at Hogwarts, and Cho's Comet was just too slow!

Reaching the school, he saw the ship lying motionlessly near the shore, apparently with nobody aboard. The surface of the water had calmed down. Students at the shore, as close to the ship as possible, were staring and talking excitedly.

Asking around, Harry and Cho learned that there'd been a bunch of people on board, adults and students, and that they'd been guided into the castle. Nobody knew more, though everyone had a theory.

They went inside. Signing back in on the register in Madam Hooch's office, they asked for news.

"People from Durmstrang," was the answer, which didn't really tell them more. It was no attack, that much seemed clear; otherwise their own guess was as good as any other.

So they went for lunch, or what might be left of it.

Reaching the table, Harry saw Ron and Hermione's expectant looks fixing on him.

He told them what he'd seen, and how Lupin had sent them off. "We met Charlie," he finished, "and delivered the alarm message, that's all. What happened here?"

"Nothing," replied Ron irritably. "We missed the action outside. What we've heard is that those people are refugees."

"Refugees? Hmm." Harry chewed and swallowed. "Could you see any of them?"

"No. Someone said there were two men, the rest students ... about twenty people altogether."

Harry looked at Hermione. "Viktor finished school last year, right?"

She looked up, nodded, then looked down again.

"Well, then ..."

He spooned more food into his mouth, letting the thought hang in the air.

Ron and Hermione had finished eating, so they were free to talk. Ron was making suggestions of how to find out more, discarding most of them immediately by himself.

Hermione said, "We'll hear more in the evening. Until then, business as usual."

A thought occurred to Harry. "You haven't got a letter, Hermione, have you?"

"No." She looked worried.

Watched by his friends, Harry emptied his dish, finally swallowed the last bite. About to leave together, the three of them stopped and glanced at the spot that had caught the general attention - a door through which right now a group of strange-looking students was entering the hall. Madam Pomfrey, who was in the lead, led them to sit down at the teachers' table, obviously for a late lunch.

Harry checked the new faces. One of them looked vaguely familiar, but he wasn't sure.

* * *

The afternoon classes went by slowly, rendered unimportant by the events. Rumours had settled to the story of a group with teachers and students who had arrived to ask for asylum from Hogwarts.

Thanks to the portkey links with Beauxbatons, their initial choice had grown by another alternative - assuming Madame Maxime would agree. If that was the case, probably interrogations were currently in progress, maybe with a final question of whether the particular visitor would prefer Hogwarts or Beauxbatons.

History with Professor Binns experienced something rare: nobody fell asleep. The students had forced the small ghost to delay today's topic and tell them more about Durmstrang.

It turned out a disappointment; what Binns could relate sounded quite unremarkable.

The school was even older than Hogwarts. Durmstrang had been founded by a wizard of the same name, together with another one called Palatyk. Soon afterwards, Palatyk had retired - according to the official version, while in the unofficial and more realistic version he'd been killed just like some former partners of Durmstrang.

Since then, the school's reputation as a centre of dark magic had grown, without ever giving proof.

All things considered, Durmstrang's history contained nothing spectacular. Dark magic and the fine art of getting rid of competition had always been a factor in the wizarding world.

Durmstrang wasn't organized into different houses. Aside from that, nobody knew details of its internal structure. But then, an almost pathological secretiveness was the trademark of every wizard school, with the notable exception of Hogwarts under the authority of Dumbledore.

Divination was next. The students assailed Professor Trelawney to tell them all she knew about the newcomers, and asked whether she could foresee anything related to them.

The witch smiled innocently. "My dears, I certainly know about our guests and their ill fate, but how very bad manners would it be to tell. Our Headmaster will reveal everything to you at the evening in the Great Hall."

"What will happen next?" asked Lavender Brown.

"As for any decision already taken, you'll need the patience to wait until later, my dear. If you're asking about future inclinations, why don't you use your recently earned skill and try to answer the question yourself? I might remind you," Professor Trelawney sounded slightly piqued, "that this is Divination."

Her look fell on Harry's and Ron's table. "Mr Weasley, as limited as your mastering of the I Ching tradition might be, I recommend it particularly to you, as you'll soon ask that question to yourself."

Ron looked at Harry. "What does that mean?"

Ron lowered his voice even more. "It's as clear as mud, just what you'd expect from her. She's just picked someone to show off, and it was me."

Harry grinned. "For once, it's not me, so welcome to the club ... Anyway, why not? Should help us kill time."

Ron shrugged, but took a parchment and his quill nonetheless. After a moment's thinking, he wrote a line without showing it to Harry.

"All right, I have my question. Go ahead."

Harry recalled the I Ching ceremony, which started with three traditional questions, supposed to filter out all mockery.

Looking at Ron, he asked, "Is your question more than simple curiosity?"

"Hmmm - not really, but wait a second." Ron took the quill again, crossed out his first line, and wrote another one.

Looking up, he said, "Okay - now my answer is yes."

"So tell me, oh Ron - is your question beyond the pursuit of fame, truly honest?"

Listening to Harry's intonation, Ron couldn't help but smile, grew serious again before answering, "Yes."

"And is it true that there isn't any better authority to ask?"

"Yes - er, as far as I know."

"Then, my troubled friend," Harry said, completing the tradition, "draw your hexagram."

Ron closed his eyes, grabbed into the small bowl that contained the sixty-four pieces, and took one. Opening his eyes, he put it on the table.

Closing his eyes again, he took the second and placed it above the first. He did the same for the other four pieces of the hexagram. His result looked like this:

Harry checked a diagram. "Number eighteen. Let's see." He opened a book, browsed, stopped, and scanned a page back. "Here we are," he said, reading.

After another look at the hexagram, he continued reading. "Hm."

"Harry," growled Ron impatiently, "would you please read aloud?"

"Okay ... Number eighteen. Working at putrefaction - that's the title."

"Sounds like Herbology, spraying manure. Great." Ron looked a bit disappointed. "What's the judgment?"

Each hexagram was described with its title, a judgement, and a counsel. In addition, the book offered special remarks for those lines in the hexagram that were in transition, as was the case with the third one in Ron's hexagram - counting from bottom up, the traditional I Ching order.

Harry read, "'Counsel. Progress and success for the one who knows to use the opportunity. Crossing the great water is of advantage. Carefully consider the events three days before the alteration, carefully watch the state three days afterwards'."

"That's nice," commented Ron. "Those students have crossed some water, and there's little doubt Hogwarts is an improvement for them ... So if that's the alteration, what happened three days ago?"

Harry tried to remember. "Nothing special ... I had a Squad flight in the morning. Then classes. We played chess. I lost, as usual."

Thinking about it, he added, "You know, these statements mustn't be taken too literally."

"Yeah, that's fairly obvious."

Ron stared in front of him. Apparently not finding anything better in his mind, he shrugged. "So what's the counsel?"

Harry scanned in the book. "'Counsel. The noble rouses his people, nourishes his virtues, his characteristical qualities'."

"Good advice, indeed."

Dropping his sarcasm, Ron studied the hexagram again. "The transit in the third, what's the comment on that?"

Harry read, giggling, "'A son, compensating lapses of the father. Certain details to feel sorry about. No severe mistakes will happen'."

"Lapses of my father?" groaned Ron incredulously. "What a nonsense. Even if I knew about some, I'm not Percy, working for the Ministry."

"Well, it's a picture. Think about it. You didn't really expect a statement like 'Do this and that' from I Ching, did you?"

Not receiving an answer, Harry looked at the folded parchment. "I might have a better idea if I knew the question. Would you show it to me?"

After a moment, Ron took the parchment, unfolded it, and presented his question without a word of comment:

"I see." Examining his friend, Harry tried a joke. "I don't translate it into going to the Ministry and cleaning up after your father. Let it sink in ... once we know more about the Durmstrang people, we might come up with an idea."

"Sure," said Ron, not sounding convinced.

* * *

At supper, an air of expectancy hung in the hall. When the food did not arrive as expected, the excitement grew higher. The noise level ebbed and swelled up again when Dumbledore, followed by a dozen people, entered the hall.

Hearing Hermione's sharp intake of breath, Harry examined the faces again, then he saw the reason. It was the second figure, after an unknown wizard and trailed by ten students.

Viktor Krum.

"My dear students," announced Dumbledore, "we have guests, and as they'll share our meal, let me introduce them to you, and let me explain what brought them here."

As the Headmaster quickly confirmed, the people from Durmstrang were indeed refugees, escaping from a school in which the Dark Forces had taken control. The refugees' total number included two teachers, nineteen students, and an ex-student who had joined them as the only one who could steer the ship - Viktor.

Half of their number had voted for Beauxbatons. Dumbledore's words gave no clue as to whether the balanced quota had been forced.

"After granting the requested asylum," Dumbledore finished, "we took the liberty to run a short Sorting Ceremony without letting you watch. There are new students for all four houses. Please welcome them to your tables, and for all questions you have in addition, you might ask them personally. That'll be the quickest method of integrating them in our midst."

Harry watched as Professor McGonagall in her role as Head of Gryffindor guided three students to their own table, two boys and a girl.

Then the dishes filled the tables, and everybody started eating.

Within minutes, the new students were the centres of animated conversations, involving a lot of gesticulating to compensate for their limited English skills.

"Hey, Hermione," asked Ron with a casual voice, "what do you think of it?"

Hermione looked slightly embarrassed. "I don't know yet ... but I'll find out more soon enough."

"I bet," replied Ron grinning. "I wonder what Viktor's job'll be at Hogwarts. Their ship won't need another helmsman for a long time."

Helmsman, thought Harry, remembering the I Ching hexagram. Cross the water regularly ... Except Viktor didn't cross, he dived, so to speak, but only once. Next moment, it struck him.

"Isn't that obvious?" he called. "Viktor's exactly the squadron leader we need. Hooch isn't really up to the task."

Hermione looked surprised, then nodded.

Harry caught fire, seeing her agree. "When you talk with him, Hermione, tell him about it. The sooner it's settled, the better. Today we had our first mission besides patrol, and it wasn't too well organized."

"I'm not so sure," said Ron. "I mean, he didn't strike me as the commanding type. As a Seeker, he's more of an individualist than a coordinator."

Harry was aware of Ron's mixed feelings for the Flying Squad. He also remembered how Ron's opinion of Viktor had changed several times during the past year. But whatever the motivation, the argument couldn't be simply rejected as prejudice.

"A Seeker's a team player like any other," he said, kicking off a discussion with Ron about Quidditch tactics versus squadron demands.

Hermione listened until it seemed as if her thoughts were drifting off.

When Harry and Ron looked up again, after an agitated exchange, she was gone.

* * *

Next morning at breakfast, the scene in the Great Hall looked almost normal. There were two more figures at the teachers' table, Viktor and the other guy. Just by watching, it was obvious that the other man didn't speak a word of English.

Those of the new students who spoke the language to some degree had trouble finding enough time to eat between answering all the questions they were asked, while those without that skill found themselves as the subjects of multi-teacher English lessons, except that their teachers were students.

Hermione's face reminded Harry of his own mood during a breakfast not so long ago. He decided to take the initiative.

"Say, Hermione, can you tell us more about the Durmstrang people?"

"Yes." She smiled self-consciously. "The school's a mess. Their headmaster, Karkaroff, is on the run."

"From whom?"

"Voldemort, who else?"

Since the events of the previous school year, most people had learned to say the name of You-Know-Who. Hermione told them that Igor Karkaroff had disappeared as soon as the news about Voldemort's revival had travelled. Nobody knew his whereabouts; on the other hand, nobody so far had found a dead body that looked like Karkaroff.

The new Headmaster never had been given a chance to establish control. The Death Eaters, always in a strong position at Durmstrang, kept threatening everybody and, more or less openly, tried to take over. The others were not strong or organized enough to fight back.

Then, rumours of the fortress Hogwarts reached Durmstrang. A group of students, with some of the former visitors among them, developed a plan to seek shelter at Hogwarts. They contacted the two teachers. Their plan implied the ship as the means of travelling, the only known method of reaching Hogwarts. But none of them knew how to steer it.

In desperation, they took the risk and asked Viktor. Fortunately, he'd agreed. And here they were.

After Hermione's last words, Ron opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. After another glance at Hermione, he finally asked, "Would - would Viktor have come with them - er, anyway?"

Hermione looked at him appreciatively. "Ron, it's incredible how elegantly you can formulate questions. You'd fit in the Diplomatic Corps."

Ron flushed.

"But to answer your question - Viktor said that he didn't have to think twice. He hadn't been completely sure that he would survive denying them, and he'd had no intention of finding out."

"What about the ship?"

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing ... Basically it's still operative, it could be used any time to travel back to Durmstrang. But who would?"

Harry's thoughts dealt more with air forces than with naval ones. "Did you find time to talk about the Flying Squad?"

"Suddenly I feel like Viktor's business manager - that's not what I had in mind." As if in a haste to prevent any reciprocating remark, she added quickly, "Actually, Viktor talked about it. You were right" - she nodded toward Harry - "that was Dumbledore's first idea. But" - she nodded toward Ron - "you were right too. Viktor says he's not a commander."

Harry grimaced. What a nuisance. There was an excellent Quidditch player, cool-minded enough to steal a magic ship under the eyes of the Dark Forces, and now he seemed frightened at the prospect of leading twenty-eight students on broomsticks.

His thoughts were interrupted by Ron's next question.

"Did Viktor ..." Ron hesitated, keeping his voice careful. "Er - did Dumbledore accept the story immediately?"

For an instant, Hermione's eyes looked piercing. "Of course not. The three - that is, Viktor and the teachers - volunteered to any kind of interrogation. They did some. Dumbledore was satisfied afterwards."

With his mind already having drifted back to the Flying Squad, Harry turned to Hermione. "What do you think - are they just happy to be safely away, or would you say they're still ready to fight?"

"They aren't cowards!" she snapped. "They're more than willing to fight with us!"

Harry raised both arms. "Sorry, no offense intended. I was just wondering how to convince Viktor that he ought to have a place in the Squad."

Hermione smiled apologetically. "My mistake. But don't worry - since Dumbledore thinks the same, there's little doubt Viktor'll make you happy."

At these words, Ron started to grin.

Registering that, Hermione turned scarlet, busying herself with her dish.

* * *

During the next days, Harry looked for an opportunity to talk with Viktor. Strangely enough, he found none.

Yes, they were saying hello to each other, but whenever Harry made an attempt to start a conversation, Viktor was suddenly in a hurry. Why was Viktor avoiding him?

The only reason Harry could imagine was that Viktor knew Harry's intentions and, not willing to discuss the matter, ran away before the topic could be raised.

Harry's last patrol with Cho, an after-breakfast flight, was scheduled on the day before the new assignments would take effect.

Cho, waiting for him, said accusingly, "Hey, what's this? Your hands look so empty!"

"Why, no. See, I have my Firebolt."

"That's not what I mean." She examined his blank face. "I can't believe you didn't count that as a special occasion."

"Oh, that!" he replied as if suddenly understanding. "Of course I did. But certainly not right after breakfast - your cake'll be ready later today."

Cho stomped her feet. "Harry Potter, don't tell me when it's time for cake!"

He had no choice, he had to go back into the kitchen and ask for a parcel.

The scene carried Harry's mood for the most part of the flight. However, on their way back from the dragons' nests, the prospect of the next two months fell over him like a black shadow.

Entering the hall, all he could muster was, "See you - bye," then he turned quickly away.

"Harry."

He stopped, waiting.

Cho came over. Her finger touched his forehead lightly. "I'm looking forward to it ... Bye."

She hurried upstairs.

* * *

Classes didn't reach Harry's mind. He filled a seat here and there, mechanically answering questions. Somehow, his answers seemed satisfyingly enough, although he'd been unable to repeat them. He still felt a light touch at his scar, still saw a small figure climbing the stairs.

During lunch, Madam Hooch announced a meeting of the entire Squad in the Great Hall after supper.

Harry knew what would happen. They would establish the new pairing, and then they would fix the recent assignments as the permanent pattern.

Somehow the day passed. In Transfiguration, McGonagall started on a new spell that could change hair colours and bleach freckles, a first step in the Animagus transfiguration.

The girls were thrilled. Harry couldn't care less.

Heads were turning to him, and somebody asked, "Professor, would this spell hide scars?"

"Basically, yes." McGonagall looked in his direction. "Mr Potter, would you like to try?"

"No."

Heads turned quickly away.

Startled, Harry realized how rude his answer had sounded. Still, the others seemed more embarrassad than he himself. He felt no intention to resolve the misunderstanding.

After supper, he simply kept his seat, waiting for the other Squad members to reappear. Slowly, they gathered. With these few students, the hall looked emptier than before, perfectly matching Harry's mood.

Bob strolled by, greeted by the other Gryffindors. "Hi, Harry. Swapping day, isn't it?"

Harry mumbled an answer.

Bob looked at him and saw something in Harry's face that made him move without another word.

Madam Hooch appeared, someone unexpectedly in her trail. It was Viktor.

"I'm your Quidditch teacher," she began, "but I'm not the right person to lead the Flying Squad."

Some mild protests made her smile. "That's very kind of you, but let's be honest. I only did it because I was the only person available, but now we've found someone who's suited much better to the task. It's Mr Krum here."

There was applause, which Viktor answered with a nod. Considering how often he must have been the focus of attention of tens of thousands of people, he looked quite nervous.

Madam Hooch gestured. "Viktor, it's your turn."

"Thank you." Viktor stood up.

"My dear squatt members. You must not think I'm a commander. I did not want this job. I haff to learn so much." Viktor started to pace back and forth. "But Professor Dumbledore said I can do it, and you know how he is."

Laughter welled up.

"I want to do my part in our fight against the Dark Forces, and then Sy - er, Madam Hooch promised me to help in the organizassion. I am not good in an office. But I can lead a team, then I guess I can lead a Flying Squad."

Looking up, he finished, "So if you accept me, I will be your leader."

More applause. The few Squad members made as much noise as they could.

Viktor stood smiling; his nervousness had disappeared.

"Thank you. I strongly belieff in team spirit. S - Mrs Hooch hass told me how your twin teams were formed, to increase the friendshipp between your houses."

There was laughter, and somebody shouted, "Yeah, you could put it that way."

Viktor waited for silence. "For what I know, this goal has been retched."

Giggling was followed by nods.

"Then we can continue with the most natural system, the one that is used by effery other patrol forsse ... Find yourselff a permanent partner."

Viktor folded the arms and stood, waiting.

"Now?"

Viktor nodded. "Yes. I wait."

The twins reacted quicker than anyone else. Without even looking at each other, they stood up and strolled to an empty spot.

Katie turned to Alicia. "Shall we?" Alicia nodded.

Harry sat frozen.

Lee turned to Angelina. Before he could speak, Angelina said, "Sorry, Lee - don't take it personally, but ..." She looked over his shoulder, then started to smile.

Suddenly Bob stood in front of her. "Taking the opportunity, Angelina, what do you think?"

Angelina stood up. "I had the same idea."

Together, they walked to another spot.

Lee had watched the scene. Grinning, he left to find another partner, not even asking Harry.

Looking at the Ravenclaw table, Harry saw someone talk with Cho, then turn away. It made him finally move.

He walked over, not feeling his legs. Everyone else was somehow out of focus; anyway, nobody seemed surprised.

Cho watched him approaching.

He reached the table. "Cho ..."

She stood up; they took a few steps away from the crowd. "Harry," she complained in a low voice, "I've seen you move quicker than that before."

He twitched, flushing. "I'm sorry. I ... it came so suddenly ..."

"Now that's a real compliment. If it's a Dementor, you're up in no time. If it's me ..."

Watching his face, she grinned. "Only joking." She took his hand. "Let's find a place."

Looking around, Harry saw the Squad had regrouped. What previously had been four Quidditch teams now appeared as fourteen pairs.

Viktor nodded. "Good ... This is the only change for now. You must register your teams, and then sign for the patrolls like before."

He took the seat besides Madam Hooch, watching how she prepared the lists.

Pairs rose quickly. The first of them would get the noon and evening flights, although in the long run, each team had an equal amount of early and late patrols.

Harry and Cho stood in line, waiting to register.

"Doesn't talk much, our new leader," said Cho.

"Remember the cup final?" replied Harry. "He's more the action type."

Cho giggled. "I'd like to ask a certain someone whether she'd confirm that."

Harry looked shocked.

It didn't bother Cho much. "By the way, how's your dancing with Fleur?"

"It isn't," he replied, anxiously checking around whether anyone had heard her. "She's doing either meetings or visiting Beauxbatons."

"Isn't that a pity," murmured Cho.

This conversation made him feel uneasy. He was relieved to reach the table. "Evening, Madam Hooch. Hello, Viktor."

Viktor looked up. "Hello, Harry," he said, then looked down again.

Madam Hooch was writing and speaking simultaneously, providing Viktor with the names. "Harry Potter and Cho Chang."

Harry listened in awe at this combination of names.

"Thank you ... Next!"

In unspoken agreement, all Squad members lingered around until the lists were completed. At the end, Viktor announced that he would accompany patrols during the next days to get familiar with his Squad as soon as possible.

That was the signal to leave.

As the Gryffindors reached their tower, a group of other students was waiting for them, including Ron and Hermione.

"The Squad has a new leader," announced Angelina. "It's Viktor Krum."

There were sounds of surprise and agreement. Harry watched Hermione, realizing that she had known in advance.

"The first he did was assigning us in permanent teams," called Fred, and George added, "... with free choice of partner."

Fred added, "Surprise number one, I'm stuck with George."

Into the laughter, someone shouted, "How could that happen?"

Then George said, "Yeah, but listen - surprise number two, guess who our captain is teaming with?"

Hermione was quickest. "Bob!"

Angelina nodded, smiling, her face darker than ever.

"Angelina, that's super," Hermione put in helpfully, "you're a true captain."

Nobody asked Harry for his partner.

Lazily following the conversation, he reconsidered the evening. Viktor had worked a miracle for him. But something was wrong; Viktor hadn't been able to look at Harry.

"Say, Hermione."

She looked up.

"I wonder ... is there something Viktor holds against me?"

"None that I know of." Hermione looked surprised. "Why?"

"Well - I had a feeling he avoids me. I mean ..." Harry's voice trailed off.

"We'll find out," said Hermione, looking thoughtful. "I'll ask him."

After some more minutes, she left.

* * *

Saturday morning was wonderful. Sitting at a late breakfast, Harry thought about the day ahead. He felt like bursting from energy. He would use it to finish his part about the Giants.

His friends would probably do the same; the next milestone was due soon. Ron looked restless, while Hermione was chewing mechanically, her mind far away.

Sensing his stare, she looked up. "Harry?"

He waited.

"Er - can you spare a few minutes? After breakfast?"

"Sure." He waited for an explanation, but to no avail. Hermione looked a little tense.

With the breakfast finished, she said, "Let's take a walk outside. Wait for me downstairs, okay?"

Harry waited at the entrance, wondering what took Hermione so long. Then she appeared in the door, holding somebody's hand.

It was Viktor.

They came over. Hermione said, "Harry - surprise. It's Viktor who wants to talk with you. I'll just listen."

Viktor seemed to belie her words, but Hermione didn't let him go.

They walked toward the lake.

Finally, Viktor spoke. "Harry, do you remember the maze?"

"Yes."

"I tortured Ssedrick, and you stopped me."

"Yes ..." Seeing Viktor's pained expression, Harry added, "You were under the Imperius curse."

"This iss the point." Viktor paused. "I couldn't apollogize to him."

Harry tried to help. "Of course not, because ... But I think he knew it wasn't you."

"No." Viktor smiled sadly. "But it's kind off you to say that, Harry."

There was no good reply, at least none coming to Harry's mind, so he kept silent.

They walked some steps, during which Harry noticed that Viktor and Hermione's hands were intertwined. Then Viktor spoke again.

"Harry - Hermione says you can stand the Imperius Curss."

"Yes."

Another pause gave Harry time for a mental note: Viktor could pronounce Hermione's name correctly.

Viktor stopped, looked in Harry's face. "Can - can you teatch me?"

Harry felt thunderstruck.

After a moment, gathering himself, he answered, "I don't know. Yes - I mean, I'm not that skilled ..."

An idea crossed his mind. "Viktor, I'll do what I can. My resistance ... I might be able to teach you. But for the training altogether, we'll need experienced help." Smiling, he added, "I think I know who to ask."

Back from the walk, he didn't waste time. Finding Lupin in his office, he explained Viktor's request.

To his disappointment, Lupin shook his head. "No, Harry, it's impossible."

Seeing Harry's face, the teacher added, "Okay, I'll tell you why, but it's confidential." Lupin informed Harry that, a few days from now, he would pass over the Defence Against the Dark Arts job to the new teacher from Durmstrang, who currently was going through the wizard's version of a crash course in English.

"I'll be away a lot," finished Lupin, "but I might have an idea. Let me think about it."

Harry couldn't warm up to this news the slightest bit. Without his new acquaintance with Cho, he would have felt worse, but even so, the thought of Lupin away from Hogwarts opened a void. He couldn't even discuss it with his friends, waiting for the day it became public as much as dreading it.

Monday after classes, Harry was asked into Lupin's office.

"I've found your person," announced Lupin, pointing to his side.

There, smiling his peculiar smile, sat Snape.