Harry Potter and the Curse of the Damned

Chapter Twenty

All Hallows Eve

Prophecy Reveals Our Savior -

Boy-Who-Lived is The One Who Can Defeat The Dark Lord

Harry sat frozen in his seat, staring at the Prophet's glaring headline. He couldn't move; he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't force his brain to read any further. Harry's heart hammered so loudly that he couldn't hear the voices of his friends calling to him. He'd done it! Fudge had actually gone and told the Prophet about the prophecy. Damn!

Ginny gently took the paper from his shaking hands and placed in on the table. The expectant hush remained throughout the Great Hall as the other students watched Harry's reaction carefully. He remained unmoving, dully staring straight ahead. He wanted to flee from the hall, rush back to his bed, and start the day over. He'd definitely make certain to skip breakfast if he could do it again.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Ginny whispered, taking his freezing cold hand within her warm one.

"Of course, he's not all right," Hermione said, her voice sounding very shrill. "This isn't good. This isn't good at all. Of course, I suppose we should have expected as much. I'm certain Professor Dumbledore must have given Minister Fudge some sort of warning, but-"

"Hermione-" Ginny said harshly, but Harry didn't hear the rest of her words. Colin's camera flashed in his face and momentarily blinded him. He sat there, blinking for a brief moment before a roar of voices rose in the hall, all directed towards him.

"Is it really true, Harry? Are you going to kill V- V- V- Are you going to kill him?" Colin asked breathlessly.

"Harry, this says you have to kill him or be killed by him. Did you know about this?" Parvati demanded.

"Harry-"

"Is this-"

"Harry-"

"Did you-"

"Harry-"

"What are-"

"May I have your attention please?" Professor Dumbledore called from the head table. He had risen and was trying to call order to the Great Hall. For the first time in Harry's memory, the headmaster was having trouble gaining everyone's attention. They were too focused on Harry and trying to gauge his reaction to the article. Pandemonium had broken loose, and the panic level was rising.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing deep inside what he had to do, regardless of how much he hated being the center of attention. Although his instincts told him to flee, the time had come for him to be a leader. Casting the Sonorus charm to raise his voice, he stood and said in a soft voice despite the power of the charm, "If you would all take your seats, I have something I'd like to say."

Everyone - Slytherins included - hurriedly took their seats, and, except for the scrape of benches along the stone floor, silence descended in the Hall. Harry could see Blaise Zabini staring at him intently, wearing an expression that Harry couldn't read. Professor Dumbledore nodded at him and retook his own seat. Harry somehow felt that the gauntlet has been passed and a thick lead ball had materialized in his stomach.

Ginny beamed at him, and he could see the love glowing in her eyes. Absently, he noticed she was still wearing the jumper he'd put on her at the Quidditch match the previous afternoon. Something about that small gesture gave him the strength he needed to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Harry scanned the room and all the expectant faces. Some were staring back at him with horrified expressions, some were intrigued, and still others were hostile. Locking his eyes on Neville, he began. "Obviously, you've seen the article in the Prophet. Don't believe everything you read, especially if it comes from the Daily Prophet."

Questions and murmurs filled the Great Hall before quickly silencing as Harry continued. "The prophecy may state that only I can kill Voldemort, but it is still up to you to save yourselves." The hall erupted in shrieks and hisses as those people who were not used to hearing Harry say the name voiced their dismay. Harry ignored them. "As those of you who are members of the DA have heard me say many times - don't call him You-Know-Who. It only increases his power over you. He wants you to be afraid of him; he thrives on it."

"Easy for you to say," someone called out, but Harry wasn't certain whom. He suspected it came from the Slytherin table. Most of the Slytherins were glaring at Harry, despite the fact that they, too, had all flinched when he used Voldemort's name.

"No. It's not easy for me to say, and I don't take anything about this situation lightly. But I also know that he is the threat, not what he calls himself. Voldemort isn't even his real name; he made it up to sound intimidating. Don't let him get away with it. This is not a game; it's a life and death struggle that we are all involved in. Nothing has changed because you know now that one day I'll have to face him. Just because that's the case, it doesn't mean I'll necessarily be there if he comes after you, or your family, or wants someone in your family to join him.

"This is where you all must make your own choice. You can do the easy thing by trying to hide and hope that I'll be able to defeat him before he comes for you, or you can stand and fight for what is right, for what you believe in. The more of us who stand together and refuse to be cowed, the more difficult his task is. He'll try to divide us, because he knows we're stronger if we keep our faith and trust in each other. He cannot understand that. I'll be ready for him when the time comes, and I promise you that I'll do my best. What I need from you is for you to learn to protect yourselves."

Harry climbed down from the bench and mumbled, "Quietus." His hands were trembling violently, and he wanted to escape the hall before he had to answer any direct questions. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

The hall remained silent for a moment before Justin Finch Fletchley slowly brought his hands together in a clap that reverberated around the hall. Several other members of the DA joined him, and, soon, nearly the entire hall was applauding.

Harry was stunned and nodded briefly in acknowledgement with a dazed expression on his face. Taking Ginny's hand firmly in his own, he led her out of the Great Hall with all the dignity he could muster. Hermione and Neville followed quickly behind as he raced up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower.

They climbed through the portrait hole and collapsed on chairs in the empty common room.

"Well done, Harry," Hermione said, sniffling. Her eyes were suspiciously red.

"So much for keeping the prophecy out of the papers," Neville said. His face formed into a frown before adding, "I'll ask Luna if her dad was also given the story."

Clomp, clomp.

They all turned to see Ron coming down the stairs, bleary-eyed and with sleep-tousled hair. He stopped short when he noticed everyone staring at him and the paleness of their faces. "What? What did I miss?"

Harry spent the next several days trying to ignore the intense stares and whispers that accompanied him whenever he had to leave the common room. Even the Gryffindors were unable to tear their gazes away from him, and the pressure he was feeling was intense. They were all waiting, wondering what he was going to do, and it was driving him mad. He couldn't walk down the corridor without being bombarded with questions about what he was going to do and when it would happen. His friends tried to shield him from as much of it as they could, but even they were being hounded with questions. Hagrid had to put Fluffy on guard duty at the Hogwarts gate to discourage some overly eager reporters, desperate for an interview with Harry or anyone even remotely connected to him.

The letters had begun arriving by owl post the morning after the article appeared. Harry was bombarded with letters from all over Britain, from witches and wizards demanding to know what he was going to do and what was taking him so long. One of the first letters he had read had the audacity to ask him if he knew how many good wizards had already died while waiting for him to take the matter in hand. Noticing his distress, Professor McGonagall began having all mail delivered to a central location for screening by the house-elves. Harry felt badly for doing this to everyone; it reminded him a little too much of Dolores Umbridge's reign. There was no way to do it strictly for mail sent to him, so Professor McGonagall said she really didn't have a choice. The amount of owls was disruptive. He was further dismayed to learn that all his mail was going through rigorous safety precautions before it was delivered to him. Professor McGonagall was afraid some of the Death Eaters might try to get to Harry in order to improve their own standing within Voldemort's circle. Harry was more concerned about some poor house elf getting hexed repeatedly every time he opened one of Harry's letters.

He had his training session with Abe on Wednesday of that week, and he was anxious for it. He needed to work out some of his aggression. The running alone wasn't doing it. When he arrived at the Room of Requirement, Abe was already there as usual. Instead of robes, he wore a T-shirt emblazoned with a faded Grateful Dead insignia and tattered blue jeans.

"Good afternoon, lad. I understand it's been quite an eventful week thus far for you, eh?" he asked, though it was more a statement than a question.

Harry smiled wearily. "Yeah. You could say that."

"I had to battle my way through a crowd of reporters at the front gate, even hexed a few of them. Cordelia warned me about it - and that blasted three-headed dog, too - but I hadn't believed her."

Harry grinned. "Hagrid calls it Fluffy."

"Fluffy? Hagrid always was a bit daft when it came to animals, the big lout," Abe chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, are we going to get to work? I thought we'd do some spellwork today and see how fast you can bring my shield down."

It suddenly occurred to Harry that although Abe called everyone some kind of nickname, he always used Cordelia's full name. He wanted to ask why, but felt it was just too personal a question, and he wasn't comfortable enough to ask it. Thinking about Cordelia, he'd bet she was the one who forbade him using any other name. Harry sniggered to himself over the image of Cordelia telling Abe exactly what was what and how things were going to be.

"Okay," Harry said, removing his robe and loosening the collar of his school shirt. They worked steadily for a while, Harry proving himself very adept at breaching Abe's shield. He was aware of the door opening and Percy entering at one point, but he and Abe ignored him and continued their practice. Percy scribbled in his notebook and remained silent.

As they continued to spar, Percy began tapping his quill on his page repeatedly. When neither of them acknowledged his presence, he finally interrupted. "Excuse me?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Abe, who was sweating profusely, looked over at him. "What can we do for you, Mr. Weasley? Or perhaps you'd like to join our demonstration?"

Percy raised his chin. "This is all well and good, and Harry would obviously do well in a duel against any opponent. However, the prophecy that the rest of the wizarding world is now discussing doesn't say that he must duel the Dark Lord, it says 'Either must DIE at the hand of the other'."

"I'm well aware of what the prophecy says," Abe snapped. "And thanks to the shortsightedness of your ever-so-stupid boss-"

"I will not tolerate-"

"You'll listen when I'm speaking, boy! I have no patience for your political games or any of your administrative policies. I'm trying to ensure Harry's survival, which does directly effect the rest of us," Abe said, glowering at Percy.

Percy looked affronted, and his ears turned scarlet with the famous Weasley blush. "I've been observing this training for several weeks, and I've yet to see you show him how to kill. When will he be taught to use Avada Kedavra? What do you plan on using for victims? I'm certain the gamekeeper could supply you with a number of forest animals-"

"I'm not going to practice killing anything," Harry spluttered, feeling sick. An image from his first year of Voldemort drinking the blood of a dead unicorn sprang to his mind.

"Of course, you are," Percy snapped. "You're going to kill the Dark Lord, aren't you? You have to make certain you can perform the Killing Curse."

Harry's heart pounded, nausea rising in his stomach. Killing Voldemort was one thing, and he'd grudgingly come to accept that it was what he had to do, but he didn't want to practice killing in cold blood. And he wanted nothing to do with Avada Kedavra. Those words had had enough of an impact on his life already.

He knew Percy was wrong. He knew that the Killing Curse wasn't what he was going to try to use to defeat Voldemort, but the thought of what his training would be like under the Ministry made Harry shudder. Jonathan had told him that he wouldn't be able to perform the Killing Curse, that he didn't hate enough to make the spell work. He wondered what Percy would say if he knew that.

"That's enough," Abe snarled. "Before you go around spouting off about the Killing Curse and things you know nothing about, pay attention to whom you're speaking. Show some respect."

Harry had never seen Abe so livid, and it seemed out of place on the wizard that he'd come to know and respect.

Percy, who had never fancied being reprimanded, bristled under Abe's heated gaze. Still, his eyes flickered upwards to Harry's scar, and bright red patches appeared on his cheeks. "It is a valid question," Percy insisted. "Or do you have some other method of killing You-Know-Who?" Percy's eyes narrowed shrewdly.

"Harry cannot be taught the Killing Curse until he's strong enough to use it. Do you know anything about Avada Kedavra, Mr. Weasley? Do you understand why it is an Unforgivable? There needs to be intent behind it, not only the desire to kill, but also a pleasure in doing it. The user has to have enough hate to enjoy the killing. That is not something that can be taught...overnight," Abe said quietly. "I am teaching Harry to duel, to withstand a barrage of curses and maintain the stamina to continue against a powerful opponent. As Harry gains proficiency and gets stronger, we'll begin practicing fatal destruction."

Harry knitted his brow; he knew Abe was lying to Percy, but he was very convincing. From what Jonathan had told him, he'd never be capable of the Killing Curse. Of course, Percy didn't know about the Curse of the Damned - and judging from the prophecy's appearance in the Daily Prophet - he could never learn about it. But they were going to have to give the Ministry something.

Percy drew himself up stiffly and collected his things. "I'll report my findings to the Minister. He'll be in touch. It seems to me, Mr. Dumbledore, that time is not on our side, and this training needs to be hurried along. I'm certain the Ministry can supply some test subjects if the gamekeeper here at Hogwarts in unable to supply you. Good day."

Harry waited for the door to close behind Percy before turning, wide-eyed, towards Abe.

"Don't fret, Harry. He has absolutely no idea what he's talking about. That's the problem with all these stuffed shirts that they have working at the Ministry these days," Abe said with disgust.

"Is he right, though? Should I at least attempt to learn...it?" Harry asked.

Abe shook his head. "It would be pointless. I can tell you for a fact that you'd never be able to do it. Do you ever wonder why the Aurors don't use the Killing Curse? Why in a fierce battle they simply stun the Death Eaters who are trying to kill them? Avada Kedavra is dark magic. It involves hate, nothing else. It can't be used in defense of someone, or in righteousness anger, wanting to stop future crimes. In order to use it, the intent has to be to kill for the sake of killing. The actual act of taking a person's life has to bring pleasure. That is why it is an Unforgiveable.

"There are some Hitwizards who are capable of it. Most of the Hitwizards are only one step above the Dark Wizards they hunt. That is only one of the reasons Al didn't want the Ministry to have anything to do with your training. The fact that Percy even suggested trying to teach you is because he doesn't understand. The fact you know that you need to kill Voldemort isn't enough.

"I think we need to talk to Al, however," Abe said, leading Harry out of the Room of Requirement and towards Professor Dumbledore's office. "We're going to have to dupe the Ministry a bit, but we cannot let that dunderhead know the truth. Too much is at stake. Damn, I wish Al would get that puffed-up peacock out of office already."

Later that evening, when Harry wearily climbed the stairs up to his dormitory, he felt exhausted. It was dinnertime, so the common room was empty, and Harry didn't feel much like eating, anyway. Professor Dumbledore had been resigned to hearing about Percy's feelings, almost like he'd been expecting it.

He also informed Harry that several of the local merchants in Hogsmeade had closed their shops indefinitely. They felt Hogsmeade was too close to Hogwarts, which was bound to be Voldemort's main target. They were demanding that Harry get on with it before they lost their businesses. Professor Dumbledore stressed to Harry that this wasn't his concern. People would make their own choices; he simply had to focus on his training. It would do no one any good to rush in before he was ready. Harry knew the words were true, but he couldn't help but feel that they sounded so hollow.

When Harry entered the dormitory, he stopped short, staring blankly at the wall above his nightstand. Hanging there in a simple wooden frame was the sketch of his mother. He'd put it in his trunk for safekeeping, but hadn't got around to framing it. There was a note on his pillow.

Harry,

Honestly, with the way you procrastinate I didn't think this would ever get done. It looks nice, doesn't it? Mum sent me the frame. It's only wood, but you can always get a nice one the next Hogsmeade weekend.

Ginny

Harry grinned. She always managed to bring a bright spot to his day. The picture did look nice. He supposed the others might think it was a funny to have a picture of his mum by his bed, but he really didn't have any place else to hang it. He wasn't even certain where he lived besides Hogwarts at the moment, so they'd have to get used to it.

He had a Charms essay due tomorrow and needed to go to the library to do it. He grabbed his book bag and took a long way around so he wouldn't have to pass the Great Hall. He ran into Ginny, Neville and Luna in the corridor. Ginny's eyes were twinkling, and he knew she was anxious to hear how he liked the picture. Neville looked worried, however, and Luna seemed downright annoyed. It was hard to tell with Luna, though, and he couldn't remember ever seeing her really annoyed with anyone before - even when her housemates stole her things.

"Hi," Harry said uncertainly. "All right?"

Ginny grabbed his hand. "Harry, there you are. We've been wondering what kept you. Did something happen during your training?"

"Yeah," Harry said glancing at the rapidly filling corridor. "Come on inside the library, and I'll fill you in."

When they had sat at a table in the corner, Harry proceeded to fill them in on his training session and Percy's comments. Ginny was livid, and Harry suspected that if Percy had still been in the castle, he would gain some first-hand knowledge of Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex.

"Never mind Percy; he's just Fudge's lackey. We have to make certain that Fudge doesn't hear anything about the Curse of the Damned, so we're going to have to fool him into thinking I'm learning Avada Kedavra," Harry said. He couldn't stop the shudder that ran through him, even just saying those words. Images of what had happened on Privet Drive fought to overwhelm him, and he struggled to hold them back. Ginny took his hand in hers under the table, and he felt the calmness seep into his consciousness.

"Why not learn it, anyway?" asked Luna dreamily. "Knowing two ways of killing him couldn't be a bad thing."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose, but I don't fancy practicing on animals in the forest, either. Besides, Abe said that I wouldn't be able to perform the Killing Curse because I don't want to kill for the sake of killing, and that's the only way to make it work. With the Curse of the Damned, I need to focus on my mental connection, since it will be more a battle of wills. Professor Dumbledore wants me to practice more Legilimency, and I'm working on the wandless thought magic with Abe on the weekends."

"How do you practice?" Neville asked.

"Mostly by picking up on thoughts and feelings of those around me. Don't worry, Neville; I'm not looking into your head." Harry laughed at his friend's worried expression.

Luna, too, seemed perplexed, although it was hard to tell with Luna. "Can't he just see this in your head, like he did before?" Luna asked. "He was using some very sophisticated mind bending techniques, and I suspect he may be in contact with Triple-Horned Fledshacks. Certainly they have ways to monitor your brain waves through one of their horns."

"Right," Harry said, ignoring her last statement. "My Occlumency shield blocks out virtually all the images now." He wished he could say the same for the pain. Although the Occlumency closed his mind from seeing the horrible visions, his scar continued to burn and sear painfully whenever Voldemort's emotions were running high.

"So, what is Professor Dumbledore going to do?" Ginny asked.

"I dunno yet. He's meeting with the Order tonight to discuss it and how to head off the Ministry. We need to keep what we're really doing quiet, or we'll see that all in the Prophet as well," Harry said bitterly.

Luna pressed her lips together, and Neville glanced at her warily.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Why didn't you let my father print the story about the prophecy?" Luna asked airily, though her gaze was intent.

Harry blinked. "What?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I suppose everything happens for a reason, but he was the one who printed the truth about what happened to you, when no one else believed you. He always prints the truth that others don't want to believe. I would think you owed it to him to him to give him first choice on the follow-up. The same thing happened when he searched for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Another paper in Indonesia stole his scoop."

"I- But- I never gave anyone an interview," Harry spluttered.

"Luna, Harry never wanted that prophecy known, you know that," Ginny said.

"I don't know why anyone reads the nonsense in that Daily Prophet rag when there are real problems that the Quibbler regularly points out," Luna said, putting her nose in the air and walking away from all of them. Harry and Ginny stood there with their mouths hanging open. Neville shrugged uncomfortably.

"Sorry about that, Harry. She's been upset since the day the article was published," Neville explained, running after Luna.

Harry shook his head. "Ron always says she's mental."

Ginny sniggered. "Don't worry about her now; she's usually off on some tangent. She's probably just worried about her dad. I don't think she and Neville are getting on that well, either; she baffles him so. You've got enough on your plate right now, Harry; you can't add any more."

Harry nodded, knowing she was right. "Thanks for the picture, Ginny. It looks great."

"Do you think so? I think it would look better in a gold frame, but..."

"No, it's perfect. Thank you," he said, squeezing her hand.

"There you are," Ron said, dropping his books on the table. "Where've you been all day, mate? You didn't even show up at dinner."

Ginny sighed. "Hello, Ron, happy to see you, as well."

"What? Oh, hi, Ginny."

"Listen, I'm going to leave you two now. I've got a session with Professor McGonagall," Ginny said.

"How's that going?" Harry asked looking up at her

"It's going fine," she said, frowning. "I'll see you in the common room before bed."

Harry watched her walk out of the library with a furrowed brow.

"Don't worry, mate, she'll eventually realize she's in over her head," Ron said.

Harry turned startled eyes on Ron. "Huh?"

Ron shrugged. "She's desperate to become an Animagus, because she thinks it'll prove something. Ginny always tends to bite off more than she can chew, but if you call her on it, it just makes her more determined."

Harry was stunned. "I...I didn't know she told you about the Animagus training."

Ron snorted. "Ginny? She could never keep something like that a secret from me for long; she talks too much. She's just hacked, because she's not having any luck, and she doesn't want to tell you."

"Me? Why? I haven't been pressuring her. I'd rather she stay well out of it."

"Well, none of us are going to do that, Harry," Ron snarled, slamming his Charms book on the table.

Harry looked up, startled. Ron had been keeping his temper in check recently, so he hadn't been ready for this outburst.

"Damn it, Harry. We're all doing extra training so we can be there with you when the time comes. We need to be able to help, and you're not going to stop any of us," Ron said, his eyes blazing. "They kept me locked in that room like it was a cage. Narcissa set up a nice little charm that let me hear sounds from your cell at times...she thought it was funny. She didn't let me hear enough to know what was going on, but I could hear you screaming, and there was absolutely nothing I could do. She used to taunt me about it. I never want to feel that powerless again."

Harry's eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open, gaping at Ron. "I...I...I didn't know that," he whispered.

Ron looked away from Harry's face and stared intently at a spot on the table, idly poking it with his finger. "I made a promise to myself in that room, Harry, that I was going to help you, no matter what, and that hasn't changed. We all need to feel like we can do something, or else we feel as helpless as Narcissa Malfoy made me."

Harry swallowed painfully, averting his own eyes. He'd told Ginny some of what had happened to him during his captivity, and it helped. It seemed that Ron needed that, as well. "I do need your help, mate. This spell...this curse...it's going to require all my physical and mental strength to pull it off. The Priori Incantatum lifted both Voldemort and me into some kind of globe, so the Death Eaters couldn't touch me. I don't know if this curse will work the same way, so I'll need you lot to watch my back while we're battling for control. I can't do both."

"And we'll do it. You just keep your eye on the king, and we'll worry about the pawns," Ron said.

Harry cringed, but didn't know what else to say. They worked on their Charms essays for the next hour in silence. Ron glanced repeatedly over at another table where Hermione sat working with Terry Boot. Harry hadn't even realized she was there, but obviously Ron had noticed her right away. Judging by the stack of books on her table, she'd been there for quite some time.

"So," Harry said, hoping he sounded casual. "How are things going with you and Hannah?"

Ron shrugged. "She's nice. She doesn't push me at all or care if I skive off class or do my homework. She doesn't expect anything, really." Ron glanced over at Hermione again, and Harry had the distinct impression that there was more he wanted to say.

"It's a bit weird, actually. She lets me make all the decisions on what we're going to do. Kind of disconcerting."

Harry chuckled. "Not exactly what you're used to?"

Ron sighed. "No. But I need to find out, Harry. I need...Hermione was all I wanted, all I thought about for even longer than I realized. Everything I did revolved around her. Hermione's smart...she's brilliant, really, but she likes to be the smartest one. She didn't even consider the fact that she could have been wrong about Trent; she just brushed me off as if what I was saying was the foolish ramblings of a silly little boy. I know she feels bad now; I know that inside she knows she was wrong, but she hasn't once said that to me. Not once has she outright said I was right, and that hurts.

"Hannah...I dunno...she doesn't make my heart beat faster, the way Hermione does, but she listens to what I'm saying. She doesn't ignore everything I say, because she assumes I'm going to screw it up. But...sometimes I wish she would challenge me a little...you know? She doesn't make me want to be better, like Hermione always does.

"I don't know what I'm saying. When I figure it out, I'll let you know," Ron said, turning back to his homework. "She does have a nice rack."

Startled, Harry looked up from his homework and smirked. Ron hadn't even looked up when he'd said that last bit.

"Not that Hermione didn't. In fact, her set-"

"All right," Harry laughed. "I don't want to know about Hermione's anything."

Ron grinned and continued with his homework.

Harry's thoughts were jumbled, and he wished he could talk to Ginny or Remus to help sort them out. What Ron said about Hermione was true - she did like to be right and always assumed she was. Of course, nine times out of ten she was right, but he could see how Ron felt dismissed by that sometimes. Harry glanced over at Hermione's table. Terry was talking animatedly about something, but Harry could see Hermione's eyes glazing and discreetly looking over at Ron on several occasions.

"Potter." A smooth voice startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Blaise Zabini looking at him with an amused grin. "Didn't mean to startle you. Hufflepuff was a big winner in the last game. That means the winner of our game is going to have to do the same if we have any hope of winning the cup."

Harry looked into Zabini's eyes - they were challenging, but not malicious. "That won't be a problem," Harry said confidently.

"Who's your new Seeker?" Ron asked suddenly.

Zabini's grin widened. "That would be me."

"You," Ron spluttered. "You weren't even on the reserve team."

"You'll find I'm a much better Seeker than Malfoy ever was. If his father hadn't bought his way onto the team, the spot would've been mine. I wasn't about to play back up to someone who didn't even earn the position on his own."

"Well, then, I suppose you'll have to back up your words in the air," Harry replied.

"I suppose so. See you around, Potter, Weasley."

The Gryffindor/Slytherin match was scheduled for Halloween. Harry awoke that morning feeling sluggish and disoriented. He hadn't taken a sleep potion the night before, even though he could have, because he found it sometimes left him drowsy the next day. He wanted to be wide-awake and alert for the match against Slytherin. Unfortunately, his dreams had once again refused to cooperate. He'd been in the Chamber again, and he shuddered as he suppressed the images.

He pulled the curtains back and rolled out of bed, surprised to find Ron awake and sitting on his bed staring at Harry intently.

"What?" Harry asked in alarm; it was unusual that Ron was awake before him.

"You dreamed about Ginny last night," Ron said.

Harry's cheeks flushed. He had dreamed of Ginny in the Chamber, but he'd also had more pleasant dreams after he'd managed to fall back to sleep. He hoped Ron hadn't overheard one of those kinds of dreams.

"Er...," he spluttered.

"She was in the Chamber...only she was him," Ron said, completely oblivious to Harry's discomfort.

Oh, the first dream.

"Wait a minute. How did-"

"I saw it again, Harry. You must have been using your Legilimency again to share images while you were dreaming," Ron said with a worried expression. "It wasn't a memory, because Ginny wasn't a little kid."

"No," Harry said, running his hand through his hair. "It's just a dream; I've already told Dumbledore about it."

"Yeah, well, it's the first time I've had it," Ron said.

"Why are you the one who keeps picking up on this stuff?" Harry asked, talking more to himself than to Ron.

"Beats me. I'd just as soon I didn't. You have some nasty dreams, mate."

"Come on, we're supposed to meet the team for breakfast, and we're going to be late."

Harry and Ron hurried downstairs, through the common room, and towards the Great Hall. The castle was heavily decorated for Halloween with live bats flying in the rafters and Jack-o-lanterns in every corner. When they burst into the Great Hall, they were met with stares and giggles once again. A dreadful feeling of deja vu washed over Harry.

Keeping his head down, he quickly walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down across from Ginny and Hermione.

"What now?" he asked, sighing.

"Well, if it isn't the man of the hour," purred Parvati, who was sitting to Harry's right. She looked at him in a distinctly predatory way that made Harry instantly wary.

"Parvati, look at how red you made his cheeks turn. You know Harry hates all the attention," Lavender said, demurely lowering her lashes.

Harry's eyes instantly sought out Ginny and watched as she glared daggers at the older two girls.

"Look at this," Hermione said, pushing a copy of Witch Weekly towards him. She looked exasperated by Parvati and Lavender, but Harry could tell by the tone of her voice that she was anxious about something.

He glanced at the cover and blinked stupidly at the picture of himself that was covering the entire front page. It took a moment to register before he noticed the smaller inset pictures of Ginny, Hermione, Cho, and Luna beneath his own. Shaking his head, he opened it to find the article and read with a growing sense of dread.

Harry Potter: Savior of the Wizarding World?

by Rita Skeeter

Well, ladies, the cat is out of the bag now. Harry Potter, the young Boy-Who-Lived who is currently Head Boy during his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is destined to be our champion once again. The revelation of a prophecy given some time before young Harry's birth names him as the one destined to defeat the Dark Lord. But is he stable enough to do the job?

Reportedly, at the tender age of 17 and just recently gaining adult status, Harry has already faced the Dark Lord on a number of occasions and come out on top every time. During his fifth year at Hogwarts, he formed an illegal group in order to aid in the fight against You-Know-Who while others sought to undermine him. Harry regularly uses the Dark Lord's name and encourages others to do so, as well, even assigning housepoints to those who comply.

But is this wise? Is Harry Potter, in his zeal to destroy the wizard responsible for the death of his parents, putting the lives of other students at risk? Are all the stories of his brushes with the Dark Lord true or just the ravings of a typical teenage boy tooting his own horn? The prophecy says he's the only one who can save us. Can we really trust that he's up to the job? Or, more disturbingly, is it possible that Mr. Potter hasn't really escaped at all but instead has some sort of a deal in place with the Dark Lord in order to fool us all?

Perhaps a look at the women in his life, those closest to him, might offer a clearer glimpse into our reclusive hero. What every witch wants to know is who is keeping this supposed savior warm at night? Certainly, after the defeat of the Dark Lord, if Potter's still alive, he'll have his pick of any witch in the wizarding world. Even now, this reporter has talked to several that would take on the job before the prophecy is fulfilled.

His first girlfriend, Herminny Granger, is reportedly no longer seeing him, although the two remain extremely close. This reporter can confirm the extraordinary lengths to which Ms. Granger went on several occasions to protect Mr. Potter's privacy. One has to wonder what secrets these two are so adamantly keeping.

It has also been confirmed that Mr. Potter dated Cho Chang, an extremely attractive former student who was also reported to have dated the late Cedric Diggory. As you recall, Mr. Diggory was the student viciously killed during the Dark Lord's rebirth. Mr. Potter and Ms. Chang began seeing each other shortly after that event. According to Ms. Chang, "Harry never wanted to talk about Cedric; we used to row about it, actually. Then he went off and gave that interview, talking about his own part in that whole ordeal...it was like Cedric didn't matter."

Also reported among his closest friends is Ms. Lucy Lovegood. Mr. Potter's first published account of what happened during the rebirth in that graveyard, a story written with unerring accuracy by yours truly, appeared in the Quibbler. Ms. Lovegood's father runs that magazine, which usually caters to a more eclectic crowd. One has to wonder what methods Ms. Lovegood used to convince Mr. Potter to share his story in her father's lesser known publication before turning to a larger, more respected one. Since the follow-up appeared in the Quibbler's chief competition, one has to wonder about the apparent cause of the couple's falling-out.

The final name on the short list of candidates for Mr. Potter's affection is Ms. Virginia Weasley. Reportedly, Harry and Ms. Weasley have been "close" friends for some time. It is reported that Mr. Potter has inherited a tidy sum from his parents and also stands to inherit a great deal of wealth after the prophecy's fulfillment. Compliments to Ms. Weasley on her choice in men - Mr. Potter is certainly a step up the social ladder from her humble beginnings. In fact, this reporter has learned that Mr. Potter went on holiday with the entire Weasley family after the deaths of his guardians. One has to wonder if the Weasleys haven't been grooming their only daughter for this role all along. It has been pointed out that they've welcomed Mr. Potter into their family from a very tender age.

There you have the facts, ladies. Is latching on to Mr. Potter now a golden opportunity to be at the front and center of the wizarding world's reorganization, or merely a ticket to heartache? If he can't even keep a girlfriend now, how can he be expected to defeat a Dark Lord? You decide - is he up for the job?

Harry felt a tight knot in his stomach. She can't be serious. The questions about whether or not he could actually defeat Voldemort were valid, but who in Merlin's name would care about who he was dating? He looked up to see the disgruntled looks on both Hermione's and Ginny's faces. Damn!

"Oh, that's brilliant," said Ron, who had been reading the article over Harry's shoulder. "More reasons for women to throw themselves at your feet."

Harry glared at Ron. "It isn't funny," he snapped.

"It certainly is, mate. You don't know what to do with the women you've got already," Ron said, grinning.

"That...that...," Hermione spluttered.

"Witch," Neville supplied, sitting down next to her. He looked flustered and anxious. "I know. I've just seen Luna, and she's not happy. Something about the Quibbler not catering to an eclectic clientele but serious seekers of truth and justice. Something like that."

"Ooh," Hermione said, steaming. "I thought when she didn't reappear right away last year we'd seen the end of her. I can't believe the insinuations that woman is making."

"Virginia?" Ginny ground out through clenched teeth. "When have I ever been called Virginia? She makes it sound like I'm a hanger-on for your fame and fortune."

Harry rubbed his temple; his head was pounding, and he felt a vice-like grip tightening it with every comment. Halloween just never went his way. As he replayed the words of the article in his mind, one phrase stuck out glaringly - has some sort of a deal in place with the Dark Lord in order to fool us all. Exactly what did she mean by that?

Harry's blood began to boil. "Does she honestly think I'm collaborating with...that....that...that I would ever...he wants to kill me! I would never-"

"We all know that, Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "Rita Skeeter is a nasty piece of work and very vindictive. Obviously, she's still bitter towards us."

"Hey, Potter," Blaise Zabini said loudly as he walked past. "Do you think you'll be able to tear yourself away from your harem in time to compete in today's match? You could always call a forfeit if you're otherwise...engaged," he said, looking Ginny up and down leeringly.

"Watch it," Harry growled, his hand clenching around his wand as he stood up to block Ginny from the Slytherin's view.

Zabini took a step back, chuckling. "No wonder Malfoy always got under your skin. You're easy, Potter."

Ginny stood up and slammed her napkin back onto the table. "I'm heading over the locker rooms; I'll see you there."

Harry began to follow, but she held up her hand. "No, you can go with Ron. I don't want anyone to think I'm sniffing after your Firebolt as we walk over," she said before turning and storming out of the Great Hall.

"Ginny," Harry called, stunned and more than a little hurt.

"Let her cool down, Harry," Hermione said, patting his arm. "She's not really angry with you, just angry in general."

Harry sat back down and looked at Hermione uncertainly. She nodded at him with an expression full of pity that irritated him to no end. He glanced over at Ron and realized his friend had lost his amused expression and was re-reading the article with a frown.

"All right, Ron?" he asked.

"It makes it sound like my whole family is after you for your money," Ron said bitterly. "We've been doing all right since Sirius left us an inheritance."

Harry blinked and looked away.

"Wait a minute," Ron said, his ears turning red. "It was Sirius, right? You didn't have anything to do with it."

"It's from Sirius's estate," Harry said quietly.

"But who left it to us - Sirius or you?" Ron demanded.

Harry stared determinedly at his uneaten breakfast. "What's the difference? It all came from Sirius."

"Oh, that's just brilliant," Ron said, pushing away from the table and storming out after Ginny. "Thanks a lot, mate."

Harry shut his eyes tightly. He didn't move until he felt Hermione's hand on his arm. "I didn't know you had done that."

"It was a long time ago," Harry said, swallowing against the painful lump in his throat. "After Sirius's will was read. I didn't want any of it. I have to get to the locker room." He pushed away from the table and ignored Lavender and Parvati's good luck wishes. He made the long walk across the Hogwarts grounds alone.

Harry dressed for the game in silence. The tension in the Gryffindor Quidditch locker room was high and felt by all. Harry thought it was a bad omen for their game. He could see Nate Daniels standing to the side of the room slightly apart from everyone else and looking painfully nervous. He remembered how frightened he'd been the day of his first game, and how Fred and George had made him feel worse. He decided to take pity on the new young Chaser.

"Hi, Nate," he said, strolling up to the boy. "Nervous?"

Nate's dark eyes opened wide. He nodded mutely.

"Don't be; you'll be fine. Just follow Ginny and Holly, watch for their signals, and you'll be all right," Harry said, smiling. "Oh, and if you see a Bludger coming at you, duck."

"Good advice, Harry," Ginny said sarcastically. "You should also tell him he shouldn't try to catch it."

Harry spun around and looked at her uncertainly. "Yeah," he finally said, rubbing his wrist. "That hurts."

Ginny bit her lip and kicked at the ground. "I'm sorry I shouted at you," she mumbled, still not looking up.

"Pardon?" Harry asked, his lips twitching.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you," Ginny repeated through gritted teeth.

Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry, too. Rita is completely out of line. I need to warn you, though...if I know Rita, it's probably just the start."

Ginny took a deep breath. "It's not fair. She takes just enough of the truth to make all her lies believable. Journalism should be about the facts, not opinions and innuendo."

Harry shrugged.

Ginny frowned at him. "You've had to deal with all of this before. It might take me a bit to get used to it, but I will. I'm not going to let a woman who turns herself into a bug get to me."

Harry gaped at her, "What- How- When-"

"Hermione told me," she said.

"I'm sorry she upset you."

"Not your fault," Ginny said, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her gaze locked with his, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

Nate cleared his throat. "Okay, then. I suppose I'll see you out there."

Neither Harry nor Ginny responded as Harry lowered his lips to hers. His spine tingled when she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, and he pressed her body close to his. It was a deep kiss, full of promise, and Harry felt his knees shaking with the intensity. They broke apart a few moments later, gasping for breath. Maybe this game wasn't as doomed as he thought. Harry felt like he could fly without the aid of the Firebolt at that moment.

Ron appeared and called the team together. He refused to meet Harry's eyes as he began speaking. "Okay, this is it. This is my last year at Hogwarts, and I want that Quidditch Cup. It's Slytherin. They play dirty, so keep your eyes open. Nate, stick close to Ginny and Holly. All you have to do is follow their lead. The rest of you know what to do. Go out there and kick some arse."

Harry let Ginny go outside with the rest of the team, but he hung back waiting for Ron.

"I don't want to talk about it now, Harry," Ron said, slamming his locker shut with his broom. "Let's get out there and win this game, and we'll deal with it later. Besides, if you catch the Snitch after we have enough points to catch Hufflepuff, it just might put you back on my good side."

Harry fought a grin. "I'll see what I can do."

"You do that," Ron said, as the two entered the pitch.

When Harry mounted his broom, it finally dawned on him how cold it was. Much too cold for October, he thought. The sky was gray, and there was moisture in the air. He hoped it wouldn't rain. As much as he loved Quidditch, it was no fun to play in the rain, particularly a cold rain. He saw Blaise Zabini opposite him, wearing that amused expression he always wore and Harry found so irritating. He really wanted to beat him to the Snitch.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and they were off. Harry zoomed high into the air and made a wide circle above the pitch as fast as he could. The speed was exhilarating, and he breathed in deeply while his eyes scanned for the Snitch. He could see Ginny's red hair blowing behind her as she raced toward the hoops to make the first score.

"And it's a 10-0 lead for Gryffindor," droned Luke Donovan's voice. Harry had hoped there would be a new commentator this year. "Gryffindor has a relatively new Chaser line-up. Both Ginny Weasley and Holy Proctor joined the team last year, while Nate Daniels is the newest member, playing in his first game."

Harry continued his search while also trying to pay attention to the scoring. Gryffindor was ahead, but not by much. While the Gryffindor Chasers were good, the Slytherin Beaters were outstanding. Ginny, Holly and Nate spent more time dodging the Bludgers than chasing the Quaffle. Both girls were trying to cover the less experienced Nate, and it was making scoring difficult. Nate wasn't bad; he was quick in his maneuvers and even managed a few scores, but he looked like a scared rabbit, and the Slytherins could see it. Of course, they went right for him; Harry would have done the same thing, but it didn't mean he wasn't annoyed by it.

He decided that if he saw the Snitch, he was just going to go for it immediately. There was no way that this game was going to be a runaway. He just hoped he saw it before Zabini did. They'd been playing for nearly two hours when Harry realized there were snowflakes in the air. Halloween was entirely too early for snow, but here it was.

As the wind picked up, the snow began blowing sideways, making it nearly impossible to see. The cold stung Harry's face, and his fingers and toes were feeling rather numb. He had to quickly get out of the way of Holly Proctor as she sped by him with the Quaffle. One of the Slytherins Beaters followed her, but, realizing he had no hope of catching her, instead launched the Bludger towards Harry.

Harry didn't see it coming until it was nearly on top of him. He dodged sharply to the side and scraped his arm along some of the bleachers. He felt the fabric on his Quidditch uniform tear as the metal scraped his arm. His breath hissed as the cold air made contact with his now exposed and bleeding flesh. Despite the scratch, he managed to straighten his broom before he crashed and flew back towards the center of the pitch.

He could hear the relieved sighs from the Gryffindor stands and the groans and catcalls from the Slytherins. As he turned to glare at the Slytherin side of the stands, he saw it - a brief glimmer of gold against the snow that was now lightly covering the ground. The snow wasn't really accumulating; it was just enough to block the lines on the pitch and become a nuisance.

Zabini saw the Snitch at the same moment as Harry, and the two of them made a mad dash for it. They were equidistant from it and both riding Firebolts. Harry felt the wind whipping past his face as he rushed toward the prize. No way was Zabini beating him. He leaned forward so he was nearly lying along the length of his broom. It was enough; Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch as Zabini's hand closed around Harry's.

He yanked his hand away and punched his fist in the air. "Sorry, Zabini - you're not my type," he yelled cheekily as he sped towards his jubilant teammates.

"Harry Potter has the Snitch. Gryffindor wins, 250 to 90," Donovan said tonelessly. "I hope that Ministry scout was paying attention."