Harry Potter and the Time of Shadows

- Chapter Eighteen-

The Golden Snitch

Harry ran straight from the lake to the castle. He headed for Dumbledore's office, but when he got up there, he saw that it was empty. Then, remembering that he had said that he was going to see Professor Fudge, he went to his office.

He knocked on the door, and Dumbledore opened it.

"Hello Harry," he said. Then seeing his expression, he quickly said "What is it?"

"It's this," said Harry, panting from his run around the school. He held up the parchment. "It's a letter from Voldemort, but it's been enchanted so only I can read it."

"I see," said Dumbledore calmly. "What does it say?"

Harry read it aloud. Dumbledore did not say a word, but Professor Fudge, who was standing close behind, made continual noises as though he was about to comment, but Dumbledore raised a hand to stop him.

When Harry finished reading, he explained about using their blood to make it invisible to anyone else.

"-- So that means that we're connected, doesn't it?" he ended.

Dumbledore pursed his lips thoughtfully, and Harry stared into his blue eyes, waiting for a response.

"Yes Harry," he said. "You are connected to him. But, this is nothing new, the two of you have been connected since you were a year old, by your scar."

Harry raised his hand to his scar. It was true that they were connected there too. That was why he could speak Parseltongue, and why he had his dreams. But they were linked in another way.

"Jedediah," Dumbledore said to Professor Fudge. "Can we have a moment please?"

"Of course," he replied, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, turning back to him. "You may not like it, but it is there. There may even be a time in the future when you are glad of it."

"Not likely," Harry said defiantly.

"And another thing," Dumbledore continued. "I wanted to talk to you about that vision you had."

"Sure," said Harry, wondering if Dumbledore knew what he knew about the spell.

"How many of them would you say you have had? Since Lord Voldemort returned that is, not counting the two you had before that."

Harry thought carefully. He had his first one in the early holidays, when Voldemort met with the Death Eaters. He had another that same day, when someone suggested a plan to get at him. The next was on Christmas night, when Dumbledore met with Voldemort. And lastly, the one he had had a few days ago, when he had made Wormtail's hand magical.

"Four," he said finally.

"And do you know what that means?" Dumbledore asked.

"Er, it means he's feeling more murderous, which means he's getting stronger?" said Harry slowly.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore.

"Do you think he's a lot stronger?" Harry asked.

"It is hard to say," Dumbledore replied. "There is no question that he is more powerful. We can only hope that he is not too strong."

Harry thought about it. If Voldemort had the power to use the spell on Wormtail's hand, he had to be quite strong. The book had said that it was advanced magic.

Harry said a short goodbye to Dumbledore and walked out, leaving Professor Fudge to go back in.

Harry went back to the lake, to see Ron and Hermione. They were still there, but Hedwig seemed to have flown away.

"What happened?" Hermione asked straight away. "Did you see Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I told him about the letter and the blood. He said Voldemort must be stronger. I don't know, what do you think?"

Ron and Hermione were both silent. The elves seemed to have disappeared. Harry wondered how long the two of them had been alone.

"Maybe he is stronger," Ron said. "But I don't think you're in any danger Harry."

"What?" said Harry. "Of course I'm in danger! I'm the one that Voldemort's after."

"You'll be fine," Hermione said calmly. "Dumbledore has protected you hasn't he?"

"Yes, but Voldemort's got a plan. One of the Death Eaters gave him a way to get at me in the summer holidays!"

"Well then it can't've worked then," Ron said. "Not if he tried it back then."

"You don't understand!" Harry told them. "He's focussing on getting me. He knows I've been protected, but that's why it's taking him so long. He knows how to get past those protections, I think."

"Well then you've got to be careful," Hermione said. "Don't give him the chance to get you."

"This is Voldemort we're talking about!" Harry protested. "He'll find a way."

"Harry, you can't let this control you," Ron said.

Control. That reminded him of something. When Voldemort captured him, he would not kill him, but make him into his servant. He would be forced to serve Voldemort. He could not remember if he had told them that, he had informed Dumbledore of it on their first day in September.

"I, er, I need to go and see Hedwig," Harry said, thinking of a reason to end their conversation.

He went back to the castle, and up to the Owlery. Instantly, Hedwig flew down from her place to meet him. Harry looked closely at her; she looked very ruffled.

She perched herself on his arm, and Harry stroked her. She hooted peacefully, and Harry breathed deeply, her weight comforting him. One of the people missing in his life had returned. He wanted the others to be with him as well.

Sirius was locked away in Azkaban, the Dementors draining him of his power every hour of the day.

Hagrid was missing, and had been for a very long time. As much as he wished Hagrid would come back, he could not help but think that his chances were not terribly good on his own.

Harry continued to pet his owl, her soft feathers brushing against his fingers. There were small bald patches on her wings, as though someone had plucked out some of her feathers.

Voldemort. He had put them into the potion he used on Wormtail's hand. It needed owl feathers, and had to be refreshed for six months, and that was roughly how long she had been gone.

Harry suddenly felt that he had a deep understanding of what Voldemort was doing, and why he was doing it. He had just told his friends that Voldemort was taking such a long time because he needed to get around the protections on him. He had said the same thing to Dumbledore after he had explained about the Order of the Phoenix. He had never really thought about it, he just knew.

They were connected, and Harry guessed that being aware of Voldemort's feelings was just another result of the link. It did have his benefits, he thought, to be able to see what Voldemort was doing. Dumbledore was right, he was glad of it, in a way.

He made his way back to the common room, his head full of worrying thoughts.

"Harry!" said George Weasley, before he had even had a chance to sit down.

"What?" Harry asked, distracted.

"What do you think you're playing at? Why haven't you called any Quidditch practices? We're playin' Hufflepuff in a week!"

"Oh, sorry George, I hadn't really thought that much about it. I have had other things on my mind you know," Harry replied.

"Ah, sorry. Of course you have. It's just that we haven't beaten Hufflepuff in three years and --"

"We've only played them once in those three years," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, well we still want to win, don't you?" George asked.

"Of course I want to win," Harry told him. He thought of Cedric, and how he had lost against him. He could not help but feel slightly guilty about wanting to defeat his team so badly. He knew that was crazy, he had nothing to be ashamed of, did he?

"Well me and Fred have been spying on the Hufflepuffs--"

"Where is Fred?" Harry interrupted, suddenly realising he was not there.

"Oh, he's with Angelina. I saw them sneak off somewhere in the grounds together."

"They're still together?" Harry asked, remembering that they had gone to the Yule Ball together.

"Yep, I don't think they're gettin' very serious though. Do you really think my brother's the relationship type?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry admitted. "So, what were you saying about the Hufflepuff team?"

"Huh? Oh, me and Fred've been watchin' them, and they're practising every hour of the day. They look pretty good if you ask me. Oh, and that reminds me, I have to tell you something, about their Seeker."

"Justin?" Harry asked.

"Er, that's just it. It's not Justin anymore. He was replaced by someone else."

"Who is it?"

"Well -- It's Cedric Diggory's brother," George said.

"Gavin?" Harry asked, remembering the boy he had seen with Cho in Honeydukes.

"You know him?" asked George.

"We've met."

"Have you ever seen him fly?" said George, taking a box of Every-Flavour Beans out of his pocket.

"No, is he any good?" Harry asked, taking a bean from the box George was offering him.

"Good?" said George. "He's bloody brilliant! Easily as good as his brother. You'll have your work cut out for you, I'm sure."

"Great," said Harry, a tough Quidditch match adding to his worries. And even more, whilst he had felt guilty about playing Cedric's team, he now had to deal with playing opposite his brother.

*

The next Herbology lesson was far from fun. Justin Finch-Fletchley seemed quite resentful at being dumped from the Quidditch team. He eyed Harry constantly the whole time, and Harry wondered whether he had done something personally, or if he was just a reminder of the sport.

Potions was also unbearable, the Slytherins taunted him whenever Snape turned his back, although Harry thought that if he saw them, he would gladly join in.

Defence Against the Dark Arts remained by far his favourite subject. Professor Fudge demonstrated his prowess at moving objects by lifting Neville's desk into the air. He did seem to lose his concentration bringing it back down, and it smashed on the ground, causing two of its legs to fall off. Professor Fudge repaired it with his wand, amidst laughter from everyone else.

Harry constantly fought with his dilemma concerning Gavin. He watched him at meal times, wondering what he had been going through these past months.

He worked the rest of the team harder than he ever had as captain. They never once complained about it, they were powered by a desire to win. All of them played better than ever before. Ron for one, was definitely performing to the best of his abilities.

Before long, it was the night before the match. He hardly ate a thing at dinner, once again watching Gavin at the Hufflepuff table, and saw for once that he was looking back. Harry quickly shifted his gaze in the opposite direction, where he saw Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table, also watching him.

Harry went to bed early that night, feeling he would need a lot of rest for the big game. But, he could not sleep, his thoughts dwelled on the Diggorys.

Long after midnight, after the others had as well gone to bed, he finally felt his eyelids begin to droop...

He was in a wood, the trees were so thick he could barely see ten feet in front of him. All of the sunlight was blocked by the high leaves, and the plants on the ground rustled against his feet.

He began to walk through the woodland. Before long, the rustling changed, and Harry was sure that someone else was following him. He did not want to know who it was, so he ran. The steps behind him sped up, and the other person was running as well, chasing him. He cut through all of the trees, desperate to get away from whoever it was behind him.

His run took him to a clearing in the trees. He stopped, noticing the footsteps had gone. He breathed, relieved that the other person had left him alone. He turned to find a way to get back where he had come from, and as he did, saw the person less than a foot away from his face. He gasped, it was the last person he would expect to cause such fright, and uneasiness as he had just felt.

It was Ron.

"Harry!" Ron said. "What are you doing?"

"I-I don't know," Harry replied. "Where are we Ron?"

"I think you already know that," Ron said simply, a grin spreading over his face. There was something wrong with that face, as though he was grinning at something Harry could not see, and did not want to see.

"No, I don't know," Harry responded, backing away slightly from his best friend. "What's going on?"

"You know," said Ron, his eyes narrowing.

"No I don't! Will you just tell me where we are and what we're doing here!" Harry said, his voice raising.

"We came here to talk Harry," Ron told him. "It was your idea, remember?"

"I didn't ask you here," Harry whispered. Something was very wrong. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Ron replied, pulling himself up to his full height, which was quite a bit taller than Harry. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

"I don't want to talk about anything! I don't even remember telling you we need to talk!"

"You mean you dragged me out here for nothing?" Ron asked, still remaining perfectly calm.

"No, I didn't!"

"That's not a very nice thing to do, quite cruel if you ask me," said Ron, his voice firm. "I thought we were friends."

"We are friends! What aren't you telling me?" Harry asked, wanting to reach for his wand, but not being able to.

"Not telling you? There's nothing I'm not telling you. Is there anything that you're not telling me?"

"No! Let's just get out of here before --" He trailed off.

"Before what?"

"Before something bad happens," Harry finished.

"What's going to happen?" Ron said, the mysterious grin on his face fading. Harry was not sure whether to be glad or afraid of this.

"I don't know, I just have a really bad feeling."

"You worry to much Harry," Ron said, turning his back, and starting to pace the clearing.

Another rustling noise could be heard from some point beyond the trees that blocked the rest of the wood from view. Harry spun around to see what had made the noise, and saw the trees along one side were swaying slightly.

He wanted to move, to either get closer to the trees to see what was there, or get away from them, not wanting to know. But something was keeping him in place.

"Ron, we should get out of here," Harry said. "It isn't safe."

"It's perfectly safe," Ron replied. "For me at least. You're the only one in danger here."

Harry stayed silent, not knowing what to think about what his best friend had just said.

"Ron?"

The awful smile flooded Ron's face again. He began to laugh quietly, growing louder in a gradual crescendo. He slowly reached for his left sleeve, and rolled it up past his elbow, up to his shoulder.

Harry screamed, seeing the terrible shape there. The red skull, with the serpent protruding from the mouth. Ron's laugh filled his ears, until he could not even hear his own scream. Ron drew out his wand, and Harry thought no more.

"Ron!" he screamed, opening his eyes. He looked around, the velvet hangings from his bed were all around him, reminding him of the trees in his dream.

He was in a cold sweat, he wiped his forehead with his hand, feeling where the skin was interrupted by his scar. He knew that it had not really happened, his scar did not hurt, and Voldemort was not in it.

Even though, that dream was scarier even than anything concerning Voldemort. It had just been a simple dream, the kind that everybody had, but he felt personally betrayed, as though Ron had actually done something to him, and had the Dark Mark.

He got out of bed, getting a glass of water from the beside table. He stared at the four-poster bed that was shielding Ron. He wondered whether he should wake him, or tell him at all. He decided against waking him, but was not sure if he should share that dream with him.

Why had he dreamed that dream? Was it a warning? His mind telling him that Ron was going to do something terrible.

Stop thinking like that, he told himself. Ron would never do anything like that.

He climbed back into his bed, trying desperately to go to sleep, finally managing it several hours later.

*

On the morning of the Quidditch match, Harry overslept, waking up half an hour after breakfast.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Harry said to Ron when he came back up to the common room from the Great Hall.

"I thought you needed your rest," Ron shrugged. "I heard you screaming at about two this morning, and you were tossing and turning for ages after."

"You were awake then?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, your damn scream woke me up!" Ron said.

"You didn't hear what I screamed did you?" Harry asked, worried Ron would know about the dream.

"No, why?"

"Er, no reason."

"Oh, I see," said Ron, smiling. "You were dreaming about Cho Chang, weren't you?"

"No! I was -- um -- yes, I was, you caught me," said Harry, feeling it was a good enough excuse.

"Yeah, well spare me any details," said Ron casually.

Just then, Hermione came through the portrait hole, holding a napkin containing a stack of toast. She offered the food to Harry, who took it without telling her that he was not very hungry.

"Are you OK Harry?" she asked, apparently noticing the distracted expression on his face.

"Nothing," Harry said quietly. He definitely did not want to tell them about the dream he had had.

"Take it easy on him," said Ron, clapping Harry on the back. "He spent most of last night having, shall we say - thoughts - about Cho."

"How nice for him," Hermione said tersely. "Well Harry, if you can put your hormones in check, you have a game to play in."

"Right, of course," Harry mumbled.

They made their way down to the changing rooms together, ready for the match. Harry looked at the weather. It was quite cloudy, and was drizzling. They had played in far worse conditions; they would be fine.

Hermione left them to find a seat in the stands, and Harry and Ron went into the changing rooms.

The others arrived there too, and they all changed into their scarlet robes. The black armbands were still there, as a mark of respect for Oliver Wood. Harry felt that his were a mark of respect for Cedric too.

As Ron took of his shirt to put on the Quidditch robes, Harry could not help but check his left upper-arm. There was no Mark, and Harry felt ashamed for looking.

Harry gave them a talk, nothing extremely motivating, just the usual "We're going to win ... don't put too much pressure on yourselves." He felt he had to say something better than that in their last match against Ravenclaw.

Nevertheless, the team cheered, and the twins shot sparks from their wands.

They walked out of the changing rooms, onto the pitch. The ground was getting soft from the rain.

The Hufflepuffs were already there, dressed in yellow. They too were wearing black armbands, and Harry noticed Gavin was wearing a black bandanna on his head as well.

Harry went to the front of them, face to face with the Hufflepuff captain. He had brown hair, and was quite tall and gangly.

Madam Hooch came up to them.

"Potter, Robinson, shake hands."

They did so, and Harry gave a short nod to Gavin, who was standing behind his captain.

"Mount your brooms."

Harry got onto his broomstick, and saw everyone else get onto theirs.

"All right everyone!" Lee Jordan said, commentating. "And today we have Gryffindor playing Hufflepuff. In the overall standings, Gryffindor are just thirty points ahead of Hufflepuff, and seventy points behind the front runners, Ravenclaw."

Ravenclaw were winning. They only needed seventy points to overtake them though. But that meant, Harry thought with some satisfaction, that Slytherin was in last.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the players started the action.

"Hufflepuff Captain Robinson takes the Quaffle, heading straight for the goal, wasting no time here!"

The yellow figure streaked down the pitch, none of the opposing Chasers able to get the ball away from him.

"Robinson shoots -- oh that's going in -- yes! Weasley saves!"

Ron caught the Quaffle and passed it to Angelina.

"Johnson takes it down, she swerves -- missing a Bludger, nice work. Passes to Spinnet -- she shoots -- the Keeper dives -- goal! Ten-zero to Gryffindor!"

The crowd cheered, and Harry grinned, not stopping his search for the Snitch. Gavin Diggory was at the opposite end of the pitch, looking no nearer to spotting it than Harry. He flew towards the Hufflepuff goalposts, and Harry saw that he was a very good flyer.

For some reason, watching Gavin fly on a broomstick made the resemblance between him and his brother more pronounced than ever. Harry felt that he had somehow been taken back in time, two years previously, as he was playing against Cedric, before being defeated by him. He found himself strangely entranced by the startling likeness of the Diggorys. There was something about that face; was his mind seeing Gavin or Cedric there?

Harry very nearly paid for his lack for concentration while watching Gavin. A Bludger came speeding at him, and he could only avoid it by gripping tightly onto his Firebolt, and rolling to hang upside-down from it.

"Close one Harry!" Fred yelled as he flew past him to knock it at the Hufflepuff Keeper.

The Gryffindor Chasers tried a Hawkshead Attacking Formation, and managed to get another goal past the Keeper.

"All right!" Lee cried. "Twenty-zero!"

Harry saw the Snitch. It was hovering inches above Ron's head. Harry flew as fast as he could in that direction, but the Snitch disappeared before he got there. On the positive side, he blocked a Quaffle with his backside that would have gone in.

"Ha! Nice defensive move by Gryffindor's fearless leader!" Lee laughed. Harry smiled, both at the situation, and Lee's description of him.

"Adley of Hufflepuff has the Quaffle -- passes to Robinson. Ouch! Gets hit by a Bludger -- Spinnet takes the Quaffle. Alicia takes it to the goals -- passes to Bell -- no, Cooke intercepts. Cooke to Adley -- no, Bell gets it back -- she shoots -- yeah! Another goal to Gryffindor! Thirty-zero!"

Harry had a great feeling about this game, despite how good Gavin was on his broomstick. They would win this game, even if it meant beating Cedric's team, and brother.

The game went on for another hour. The Hufflepuff Chasers shot dozens of goals against Ron, but none got past. The Gryffindors had scored six more times though.

"Goal!" Lee shouted on the fifth. "Seventy-zero! Bit off your game Hufflepuff?"

Harry had not seen the Snitch once in this time. This was probably the slowest game he had ever played in.

He had an idea. Remembering his game against Malfoy, he faked a look of concentration, and sped past Gavin as fast as he could. Gavin trailed, somewhat behind him. He decided to slow down a bit, to not give him too much of a warning. Harry dived, and flew down towards the grass. Gavin followed, and Harry pulled out from the dive less than a foot from the ground.

Laughing, Harry looked over his shoulder to watch Gavin crash. Amazingly, he had pulled out of the dive as well, and was still following him.

"Nice try Harry!" he yelled.

He really was a good Seeker, Harry thought.

Two players in yellow were zooming down the field, one holding the Quaffle, the other holding (to Harry's surprise) a Beater's club. Strange, Harry thought, he couldn't pass to a Beater.

The Beater lifted the club, and swung it hard when a Bludger came at him. The heavy black ball bounded off the bat, and shot straight at Ron. It hit him hard in the shoulder, and Ron raised his other arm to massage it. In that time, the Chaser had managed to get the Quaffle through the middle hoop.

"Damn!" Lee shouted. "Seventy-ten. Come on Gryffindor! Don't let them start a come-back!"

Harry looked at Ron, he seemed to be hurt badly. Harry called a time out, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

They stood at one end of the pitch, while the Hufflepuffs huddled at the other.

"Are you all right Ron?" Harry asked, concerned.

"I'll be fine," he replied, his arm still raised to his shoulder. "Just give me two minutes."

Harry nodded.

"We're doing great everyone," he said to the others. "And we've got seventy points, so we're tied with Ravenclaw. We just need one more goal and we'll be in the lead. Fred, George, nice work, you've saved us a few times."

"Well you know us," George said.

"We're terribly modest," Fred added.

"Hmm," Harry commented, surpressing a laugh. "And our Chasers are as good as ever. Our new Keeper is really proving himself unstoppable."

"Thanks," Ron said.

He was not sure why, but Harry felt that he had to somehow make up for the dream he had had. He was praising Ron, and he was grateful.

"Now, we're gonna get out there, and win that game!" Harry said, feeling that this was slightly better than his pre-match pep talk.

They went back onto the pitch, and kicked off again. They started up again, and before too long, Angelina scored another goal, making the score eighty to ten.

"Cooke gets the Quaffle, she dodges Bell -- she shoots, come on Ron -- no, Hufflepuff score. Eighty-twenty."

Ron's arm really seemed to be bothering him. He could not use a substitute, they could only do that if the game went on for too long, and the players needed to get some sleep.

"Weasley passes to Johnson -- look at her go! She gives it to Bell -- yes! Ninety-twenty!"

They played for another hour. Ron seemed determined not to let the pain in his shoulder affect his performance, and he would still let hardly any balls past. The score was one hundred and sixty to forty.

"Kinda one-sided, isn't it?" Lee taunted.

"Jordan, you're supposed to be fair to the other teams!" Professor McGonagall ordered.

"Sorry, er Hufflepuff are behind by a hundred and twenty points, but hey, that could happen to any team. Any team that suck!"

"JORDAN!"

Thunder rumbled from very nearby. The clouds above them had turned to a dark shade of grey, the wind strengthened, and the rain had become heavier. Harry's hand was slipping on the wet handle of his broom.

His heart leapt. He saw the Snitch. It was close to the very centre of the pitch, at roughly his level. He turned his Firebolt and flew off in its direction. Gavin had spotted it too. Harry was closer, and his broom was far superior.

They were coming from opposite directions, speeding towards each other. Harry was getting closer; the Snitch was not far away. He felt himself slowing down as he got closer to it, and he stretched out his hand, but it was not close enough.

Gavin reached it, and caught it in both hands. The Hufflepuffs erupted in cheering and applause, and Harry lowered his head, and brought himself back to earth.

"NO!" Lee cried, faint sobs in his voice. "Hufflepuff w-win. A hundred and ninety t-to a hundred and sixty."

The rest of the team came down, disappointment clear on their face. They had lost against Hufflepuff again, and it was definitely Harry's fault again. Gryffindor was a hundred and twenty points ahead until he missed the Snitch. This time though, he could not blame it on Dementors, or the sound of his mother's voice. He had simply not caught the Golden Snitch.

They went back to the changing rooms, and put their school robes back on in silence.

"It's OK Harry," Ron said. "You did your best. It's not your fault."

The rest of the team murmured half-hearted agreements. Harry walked out of the changing rooms, and saw that there were no Gryffindors outside waiting for them like usual. The others came out, and sighed.

"Come on Harry," said Ron blankly. "Time for lunch."

"No," Harry said, his insides empty. He would probably not be able to keep his food down. "I -- I'll just go and help Madam Hooch put the balls away."

He went through the changing room, back onto the pitch. He told Madam Hooch that he would take care of everything, and she went back up to the castle.

Harry put the Quaffle back into the crate, and managed to wrestle the Bludgers back in. He held the Golden Snitch in his hand, imagining he had caught it.

He went to the broom cupboard, and took out his Firebolt. He threw the Golden Snitch into the air, and it flew away. Harry left it for a while, and then kicked off on his broomstick, ready to chase it.

He caught it in less than a minute. He pictured that he was still in the match, and he had just won it. He saw all of the Gryffindor supporters cheering him, and Lee Jordan announcing the final score.

Harry came back to the ground, the Snitch still clutched in his hand.

"Nice catch," a voice behind him said.

He turned around. Gavin Diggory was standing there. He too was holding his broomstick, which Harry noticed was a Nimbus Pro.

"Thanks," Harry said. "And congratulations on winning the game."

"Thanks. I was sure that we'd lost it, Gryffindor were in the lead by loads," said Gavin.

"Yeah well, you caught the Snitch," Harry said, holding it up.

"Yes, and I really thought that you were going to catch it. You were miles ahead of me," said Gavin. "Funny that."

"Well you're a great flyer."

"I'm no better than you," Gavin commented. "And you're riding a Firebolt, no less."

"Maybe you were just lucky then," Harry sighed.

"Come on Harry, admit it. You threw the match, didn't you?"

"What?" Harry said. "You think I lost on purpose? I didn't."

"I know your game Harry," Gavin said. "I remember watching you in my first year, playing my brother. And then when you got your Firebolt against Ravenclaw, and winning the Cup against Slytherin. I looked at you from the stands, and I wanted so much to fly like you. There's no way you would miss it unless you weren't trying."

"You beat me to the Snitch, simple as that."

"You were closer to it, I saw. Then you slowed down, and I caught it."

"Well -- the wind was really strong, it slowed me down," Harry defended.

"No, the wind was blowing in my direction. It was slowing me, you were going the opposite way, it would have sped you up."

"No, I --"

"Come clean Harry."

"I -- all right. I slowed down on purpose," Harry admitted. "I let you win the match."

"Why?" Gavin asked. "Because of Cedric?"

"Yes ... I -- I felt guilty about what happened to your brother."

"You've got nothing to feel guilty about Harry. You did everything you could to save him. And I don't need you to feel sorry for me because of it."

"I know, I just thought -- I don't know."

"Look Harry, I appreciate it, don't get me wrong. But this was my first game, and it was against Gryffindor. I had a lot to live up to, Cedric beating you and everything."

"I'm sorry, it wasn't like I went onto the pitch today planning on letting you win. Even after I found out you were playing I still wanted to win the match," Harry explained. "But when it came to actually doing it I just couldn't. I saw you on the other side of the Snitch, you just look so much like him, and I felt more guilty about what happened than I ever have before."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you Harry, don't blame yourself," said Gavin with an ironic smile. "I just didn't really want to win my first game this way. I feel like it's tainted. Like I didn't really win, you know?"

"Well if you feel that way," said Harry, getting a sudden idea. "How about a little one-on-one, just you and me?" He threw the winged ball up into the air.

"I thought you'd never ask," said Gavin, mounting his broom.

And together they took flight, searching for the Golden Snitch.