Staff of Cybele

Chapter 7: VACATION FROM PRIVET DRIVE

After arriving at the Burrow, which took an extremely long time because they had to come using normal roads, they ate dinner. Hermione was there as well. Harry spent the next few hours practicing on bending a fork without a wand, even if all he could do was make the tip move a tiny bit.

Mr. Weasley was speechless Harry managed to do anything without a wand and was even more at a loss for words when he was finally able to a prongs bend in half just before they had to go to bed. Harry decided, with Raides' approval ("MY GOD, THE THING TRANSFORMS?" Mr. Weasley bellowed when he first saw Raides become a lion), to just use his wand since he wouldn't get enough practice without it. Him, Ron, Raides and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting in the kitchen, Harry holding a fork before him.

"I'm going to lose my wand," he assured them. "I just know it."

"Don't be so cynical, dear," Mrs. Weasley said comfortingly.

"I don't go looking for disasters," he replied. "They go looking for me."

Raides glared at him, pointing her scarlet tail at him threateningly. She shared Mrs. Weasley's point of view.

"Ah, what am I making a big deal out of it for," she said finally, dropping her tail and resting her head on her paws. "But I still want you to try to do magic without a wand at school whenever you can."

Harry put the fork back in the drawer and nodded at Raides.

"Now get some sleep, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, standing up. She cleaned all the dinner plates with a wave of her own wand and magicked them all back into the cabinets. "We have to get up at the crack of dawn to be there for pre-game talks and practice."

Harry, fully satisfied he would be able to catch Spiked Snitch without some extravagant episode, along with "good lucks" from Ron's two older brothers, Bill and Charlie, had a good night's sleep. Ron's third oldest brother, Percy, who worked for the Ministry of Magic, had kept himself boarded up in his room ("I'm working but yes, I'll come. Just leave me alone!"). Harry didn't think much of it; Percy had always been a hard worker, if a little hard to talk to.

"How are we getting there?" Harry asked Mr. Weasley the next morning over breakfast.

"Well, Bill, Percy and Charlie are all Disapparating but as -- you three," he added, noting Ginny's late arrival, "haven't -- er -- passed your test, this year they set up a fire and connected it to the Floo Network. We'll be using that."

Harry thought longingly of the day he could Disapparate.

"When do we learn how, anyway?" Ron asked Mr. Weasley.

"They take seventh years down to Hogsmeade during Charms a few times to practice. I daresay, some students don't do so well on the first try," Mr. Weasley said grimly.

Just then, Raides came trodding down the stairs, looking for her morning breakfast, which included everything from spiders to troll heart soup.

"Over there next to the sink," Mrs. Weasley told her. Then Mrs. Weasley sat frozen in her seat while the seven foot lion propped her front paws on the counter, clamped her powerful jaws around the bowl of troll heart soup and set it carefully down on the floor, not spilling a drop.

Sipping it as peacefully as a cat drinking milk, she paused for a moment, yawned, and said, "If you want, I could Disapparate all of you to wherever you have to go."

Ron looked at his mother with a sparkle in his eye. "Can we, mom?"

Harry kept eating his toast and felt Mrs. Weasley's eyes on him.

"All of us?" she said, her voice rising to a squeak as she spoke.

Raides took one more sip of her soup, paused for a second and then said, without the slightest change on her beautiful, golden face, "Honey, if you think the mark of ancients was powerful, you ain't seen nothin' yet," and went back to eating.

Ron looked at Harry eagerly.

Mrs. Weasley turned to Ron and said, "Only if Harry doesn't mind." She didn't pay much attention to how eager Ron was to Disapparate. Harry then looked at Ron.

"I don't mind," he said, grinning.

"Okay, but that only gives us another hour or so," said Mrs. Weasley sharply. And then, to everyone's relief she smiled. "No, Arthur, we don't have to get up when it's still dark out now."

Mr. Weasley turned slightly red and excused himself from the table.

"Come on, Harry," said Hermione pointedly and standing up. "You will wanna see what Fred and George are working on." Ron was pointing his head at a hallway, evidently trying to give Harry a hint he didn't understand.

Just then, a voice in Harry's head came. "Ron's got a point. Better go upstairs."

Listening to Raides' advice, Harry followed Ron and Hermione through the hallway and up the zig-zagging, rickety stairs, leading to the Burrow's many upper floors. From the outside, the house looked so oddly shaped that the only way it could ever stand without falling was because, Harry suspected, it was held by up magic.

"Dad's been getting up early so often now because of Voldemort," Ron told Harry. "Been giving him a hard time because he has to stay for so long these days..."

They approached Percy's room. Percy, upon hearing them coming up, snapped the door shut with a wave of his wand.

"They're giving Percy a run for his money, too," Ron said as they approached his room. "I'd like to see Voldemort come after you with that staff! Ha!"

The sound of breaking china and repeated yelling echoed up the stairs from downstairs.

"Mom's not getting on too well," Ron explained. "Dad's barely home. Having a grand old time covering up all of the stuff with Voldemort. He also said they wouldn't even let you play Fire Quidditch if we didn't find Raides."

"That's okay," Harry told Ron. "I wouldn't want to."

Ron's room was a shocking orange color. It was covered with posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, all of them moving and showing the players at their best. One poster that startled Harry was of the Seeker: she jumped off her broom to catch the Golden Snitch.

"Oh!" shrieked Hermione suddenly, making Ron and Harry jump. "I forgot all about it. Ron, tell him what you heard!"

They sat themselves separately on one of each of the five beds placed in the room. It was rather cramped.

"What?" Harry asked curiously.

"The Triwizard Tournament! Ron overheard his dad talking about it to his mom!"

"Didn't they have enough trouble with that last time?" Harry groaned flatly, a dull look in his eye. Ron's eyes, however, were twinkling. "Oh, no," said Harry, cottoning on. "No way..."

"See, Ron," said Hermione who was glaring at the side of Ron's head. "I told you he wouldn't want to, didn't I?"

Ron turned to look at her, his smile slowly ebbing away. "Wasn't there a bit of a fight the last time you said 'I told you so?'" he retorted.

Harry successfully stifled himself from laughing as Hermione tutted.

"I'm leaving. Where's Cho and Ginny?" said Hermione, not noticing Harry's great internal struggle.

"I don't know," said Ron hotly. "I don't have the mind of a girl."

Hermione stood up, did an about face and marched out of the room.

"I'm glad you finally came," said Ron. Harry could hear the loud slamming of a door that could only be Ginny's. "She's UNBEARABLE. Fleur stopped talking to me and Hermione said she knew it would happen. But then I laughed when Viktor stopped talking to her and she's been upset at me ever since. So how are you and Cho doing?" he added, forcing his face to a smile.

Viktor Krum was a world-famous Quidditch player for Bulgaria. Only eighteen when Harry first saw him play, Krum was easily the best player Harry had ever seen and was something of an idol to Harry's friend, Ron. Krum played Seeker, the same position Harry played for Gryffindor.

"Oh, great," Harry said, avoiding Ron's eyes and turning slightly red. "And I haven't blown my aunt up yet, either."

Ron chuckled. "So how about that Fire Quidditch match tomorrow, eh?" Harry watched as Ron's eyes turned from a sullenness to happiness.

For the rest of the day, each time Ron and Hermione ended up in the same room, a few words were exchanged and Hermione would stomp out, waiting for Ron to do so first. Only a few years ago had they gotten into such a big argument. Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, had been framed as having eaten Scabbers, Ron's old rat that wasn't really a rat, but Wormtail, disguised for many years. Wormtail faked his own death (again) by biting himself and leaving the blood on Ron's bedsheets. Ron immediately pointed the blame on Crookshanks. It wasn't until Hermione found Scabbers hidden in Hagrid's cabin, which rested on the front grounds of Hogwarts near the forbidden forest, that their friendship was repaired.

Ron and Hermione separately coached Harry, with Raides overseeing Harry's progress, on bending the prongs of a fork. Harry eventually gave up.

"Look, forget it," he said dismissively. "I can't get any farther than making one prong bend in half. It's just not happening."

Harry was looking straight at Hermione. He could see something very odd: her lips were becoming thinner and she raised her hand. Hermione then did something Harry never thought she was capable of: she slapped him. Immediately after, however, she looked positively mortified as Harry rubbed the red spot her hand had left on his cheek.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," she apologized, covering her mouth with a hand. "It's just... well... I mean, Ron and his -- I just want to see you do it..."

"It's okay," said Harry, "really. Cheer up, Hermione. You two'll be friends again in no time," he added, not believing a word of it.

Hermione was slightly warmer to Ron after this but Ron kept his "never talk to me again" stance.

Harry spent the rest of the day going between Ginny's room with Cho and Hermione and Ron's room where, after lunch, Fred and George stopped by and annoyed Ron by Apparating in.

"They've never stopped ever since they passed their test," Ron whispered to Harry longingly as Fred and George went to their room to get something.

"You ever ask them to show you how to do it?" Harry asked.

"My mom won't let them show me," said Ron, a dull look in his eye. "She said Fred splinched himself once and doesn't want me to do that."

The first time Harry heard the word splinched, he had absolutely no idea how horrible splinching oneself could be. He since learned that it meant to leave part of your body behind while attempting to Disapparate.

"George was going on about it for weeks, he just couldn't stop laughing. Fred said nothing ever hurt so bad and didn't Disapparate for two weeks." Feeling thoroughly jealous of Fred and George, Ron picked up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans sitting on his desk and began to eat them.

Fred and George came in just as Ron sat down again carrying something that Harry immediately frowned at.

"They're selling like hotcakes, Harry," Fred said. He held out his hand and sitting in it was a miniaturized version of Harry wearing his Hogwarts robes clutching an even smaller Staff of Cybele. "They don't do anything, they just sit there."

"I made one just to see if I could do it," George explained. "Fred said stick it in the front window. All of a sudden we get hundreds of requests." He grinned. "Can't deny the public what they want, Harry," he added, noting the redness in Harry's face.

"Just don't expect to sell me one," Harry said.

"We're trying to make an edible version," George went on, still grinning, "that puts a scar on your forehead temporarily but the best we can do is make your forehead hurt a little -- shame, really."

Harry wasn't listening to a word of it.

"Can you -- er -- show me how to Disapparate?" he asked George cautiously. "Your mom won't let you show Ron but what's stopping you from showing me?" said Harry, smiling innocently.

"But you already know how, don't you?" George asked. Harry looked at him funny-like. "The mark of ancients. Didn't you -- ?"

"With the mark, I could just think of doing magic and it would happen," Harry said. "I didn't have to do much of anything..."

"Oh, so in that case, well, Professor Flitwick always said concentrate hard on where you want to end up and picture yourself there. You better close your eyes and get a good picture because you don't want to end up splinching yourself, right Fred?" George said cheerily.

Fred shot George a quick, fake smile.

"Honestly, Ron, don't try it until Professor Flitwick starts doing it. Just ask Fred how much getting splinched hurts! Harry's got a better shot at it than you do."

Harry turned slightly redder.

"Just try doing it across the room, Harry," said Fred. "Put your arms at your sides and point your wand down."

Harry brought back the memory of the time he Disapparated with the mark of ancients to Azkaban. Sirius had been recaptured after he had escaped Azkaban once and was sent back before anyone except Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore knew he was innocent. Harry had attempted to free him, which worked -- for the most part...

He closed his eyes and pictured himself three feet ahead of where he was standing.

"Do I have to say anything?" he asked, eyes still closed.

"It's one of the more complicated Charms, actually," Fred said. "But most people end up able to do it without words. Wave your wand and say 'Deliquesco.' Just make sure you're concentrating hard because getting splinched hurts..."

Harry took a deep breath, waited a few moments and shouted "Deliquesco!" waiting any moment for a lot of pain. For a split second, he suddenly felt like he was traveling at the speed of light, feeling very cold. He heard the familiar popping noise which stopped the speeding sensation as suddenly as it started.

"ON YOUR FIRST TRY?" Ron thundered.

Harry opened his eyes. He was exactly three feet in front of where he just was a second ago.

Fred and George grinned at him. Ron frowned.

"Now try it without your wand?" Fred suggested.

Harry walked to the corner of the room and closed his eyes again, this time picturing himself standing at the door. He stood there for a good minute, wishing himself to Disapparate, but nothing happened...

"Well, I would have given you a free month's supply of Harry Potter models if you did it without a wand on the first try, too," said George.

Harry clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. It worked! For a split second he felt the intense sensation of speed... but something wasn't exactly right. During the entire split second, another intense feeling was growing, one of horrible pain around his mid section.

Harry had Disapparated but only his top half had moved. His body was sliced diagonally down the middle, thankfully not exposing his insides, just a slab of skin stretched across the separation. His upper body fell to the ground at the door and his legs and lower body were standing weirdly without the rest of itself. Ron was about to lose his lunch.

Harry let out one long, continuous scream that easily filled the house as Ron clamped his hands to his ears.

"George, quick, get Raides," said Fred, a grave expression on his face.

George bolted out of the room as Mrs. Weasley's voice echoed up the house. "What are you doing up there!"

Still howling, now Hermione, Cho and Ginny having entered the room, Harry clawed his way towards his lower body. Raides entered not a moment to soon when Harry was about to pass out from the stabbing pain.

"Harry, what the hell?" said Raides as if nothing was wrong. "You can fix that yourself --"

"I DON'T CARE AT THE MOMENT! I'M HURTING A LOT, IF YOU DON'T MIND!" he roared.

"Someone stick me in his hand," said Raides, having transformed back into the grandeur Staff of Cybele. Ron did so. "Repeat after me, Harry... Adiungo haec --"

"ADIUNGO HAEC --"

"Corpus semel denuo."

"CORPUS SEMEL DENUO!"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had just entered the room as a golden glitter escaped the crystal ball of the staff and surrounded Harry's separated body. His lower body fell down and the golden glitter turned into a white glow. Harry felt himself being dragged along the floor (his eyes were closed and they were tearing madly). When he had been cleanly reattached, the pain stopped and the white glow disappeared back into the crystal ball.

Raides transformed back into the great, golden and scarlet lion.

Mr. Weasley stuck his hand out for Harry to grab onto and Harry pulled, standing himself up. Mrs. Weasley looked from one guilty face to the next and Harry thought her lips were so thin that they were going to disappear. He wished he hadn't bothered to ask how to Disapparate as he rubbed the tears of great pain out of his eyes.

"I'm not going to ask," she said loudly and sharply. "You just be glad Raides is here." Mrs. Weasley was struggling to find more incriminating things to say but her mouth was moving without any sound -- it was rather like watching a silent movie. "Get ready for dinner," she said at last. "And now you know, good at it or not, getting splinched hurts," she added matter-of-factly, turning on her heel and leaving Ron's room.

Harry rubbed the area where, just a minute ago, his body had been split in two. It still stung a little. Harry, Ron, Fred and George all exchanged glances and nodded in agreement: that was dumb. Hermione looked like she was about to say "I told you so," but kept silent at the look on Ron's face (but he was still clearly horrified at seeing someone get splinched).

By the time dinner was ready, even if she still had words to say, Mrs. Weasley kept them to herself so they could have a nice, peaceful dinner. She kindly asked Harry to use the Staff of Cybele to conjure one long table into the garden as she knew the nine Weasleys plus Harry, Cho and Hermione would not fit in the kitchen. One white glow of the crystal conjured a long, wooden table out of thin air. A second glow, this time a grayish, made an equally large table cloth shoot out of the crystal tip and cover the table neatly. Then a third and fourth glow of the crystal had conjured chairs, napkins, plates, knives and forks.

After finishing, Raides joined Hermione's cat Crookshanks in chasing gnomes around the garden. No bigger than a tomato but certainly hard for a small cat to catch, they were considerably more scared of Raides than the comparably tiny, ginger cat with a squashed face that was Crookshanks. Part of the reason, everyone joked, was that Raides was seven feet long with teeth to match... Out of boredness, Raides picked Crookshanks up by wrapping her long, powerful, scarlet tail around Crookshank's mid-section. She dropped him right on top of a gnome and, getting help or not, Crookshanks was happy: he sank his teeth into the gnome's finger and it scampered away. To Harry, Raides was rather like the pet dog or cat that he never had. Sure, he had Hedwig, but she couldn't talk. On second thought, Harry realized, Raides was a wizard's pet and not a Muggle's. He would still be just as warm to Hedwig when he saw her again; they had been too good of friends for too long to stop now. He wished Hedwig didn't have to stay at the Burrow while Aunt Marge was infesting Privet Drive...

The very first thing that Harry noticed the next morning was that Ginny was actually talking to Cho and not making strange faces at her. That either meant that Cho had told Ginny that she no longer liked Harry or some kind of ancient magical miracle had been performed while he had been asleep. To find out for sure, Harry cornered Hermione as she left the table and asked her which one was it.

"Neither," Hermione whispered to him. "Cho and Ginny are just starting get along, that's all, but all they've been talking about is you and -- no offense -- it's been driving me absolutely bonkers."

Harry felt himself go red as Hermione walked away, Cho and Ginny running up to her. There was not a doubt in his mind that they were asking her about what he had just said.

"Nothing," said Hermione irritably to them.

Harry hid himself back in the kitchen, out of view of Ginny's eyes.

The second thing Harry noticed that morning was that Hedwig had turned up. Harry happily gave her some bacon to munch on and opened her cage door, which she flew into immediately and, her eyes droopy, looked like she was going to stay there for a week.

Mrs. Weasley turned on the radio for Witching Hour with the famous singing Sorceress Celestina Warlock while everyone in the Burrow dashed this way and that, trying to find clothing.

"Better pack a small bag this time," Mr. Weasley was saying. "I reckon with two Spiked Snitches, it might last more than a day."

"I hope it doesn't," Harry called out from Ron's room.

In the living room, Mrs. Weasley was packing up small suitcases with clothing. Harry went back upstairs to Ron's room where suitcases for Harry, Hermione and Cho (who had already packed hers before she left with Harry) were sitting. Mrs. Weasley took the time to wash all of Harry's clothing overnight, insisting that he not go play without clean socks. Harry had gotten several pairs exceptionally dirty in several rough games of Quidditch at Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley had to wash them with her own mix of a powerful cleaning solution to get the packed mud stains out.

Cho was carefully folded Harry's Quidditch robes and was just about to stuff them in the suitcase when Harry noticed that someone had done a bit of knitting. He swiped it out of her hands and turned, frowning at the back of it.

"All of the players last year -- and the year before -- had it on their robes. You were the only one without!" Cho said.

"That's nice," said Harry sarcastically, placing it on Cho's outstretched hands. She had knit Harry's last name in gold on the top of the back of his Quidditch cloak.

"Raides helped me," Cho admitted, smiling. Harry rolled his eyes and turned away as Cho re-folded it stuffed and it into the suitcase. All Harry cared about was making sure that he took his Order of Merlin necklace and Phoenix Bracelet, both of which he was wearing so there was no problem there.

Mrs. Weasley, unlike the last few Quidditch games, was going to this one. As much as she didn't like to have to leave the house for an entire day, for she had become quite fond of it, Raides assured her nothing was going to break. Raides had made a deal with the ghoul that haunted the attic that, if it was good, she would show Harry how to cast the ghoul away to the nearest graveyard where it could haunt the dead in peace and he did break something, she was going to show Harry how to very painfully kill it ("Clades Ultimus," she whispered in Harry's ear). The Weasleys were grateful. Not only was the ghoul annoying -- and it had been there for as long as Harry ever knew -- but it frequently dropped something when it felt the house was getting too quiet.

"Mom, what did you do!" came Ron's angry voice.

Harry slipped down the stairs as Mrs. Weasley came half-running in the opposite direction.

Mr. Weasley was peacefully listening to the radio while the rest of the Weasleys hustled and bustled. They had still managed to be running late even though Harry would be Disapparating them with the Staff of Cybele. Mr. Weasley quietly suggested it was the fault of his wife's for suggesting they eat breakfast and get up an entire two hours later than they would have had they not been Disapparating. Mrs. Weasley liked to suggest it was Mr. Weasley's fault for suggesting they wait till morning to pack their bags. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Cho, Ginny, Fred and George all agreed it was both of their faults.

"We interrupt Witching Hour for a terrible, breaking news," came the radio announcer, cutting a wonderful song from Celestina short. Everyone in the Burrow came running into the living room. "The Dark Mark, infamous symbol of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was cast into the sky for the second time in sixteen years," the announcer went on gravely. "While He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been preying on Muggles since his third coming, we now bring the news that the Dark Mark had been cast over the house of the Ministry of Magic's Head of the Department of the Courts, Vindus Diogo --"

"I should feel bad," said Mr. Weasley, staring blankly at the radio, "but for him, I just can't..." He felt himself sink into the couch behind him out of sorrow, regardless of how much resentment he had for Vindus.

Harry had met someone named Vindus -- and he could only guess that it was the same Vindus as no one had mentioned his last name -- only two years ago and he firmly agreed with Mr. Weasley. Harry had been brought before Vindus for conviction of a murder which had been done without Harry having had control of his own body. He had been under the partial control of Voldemort and had cast the most deadly spell known to wizard-kind: Clades Ultimus. This accidental spell had literally exploded the body of one Colin Creevey, a then-fourth year who idolized Harry. Harry had felt exceptionally terrible for a long time afterwards and Vindus did not make the situation any better.

"Mr. Diogo had been at work at the time," said the radio announcer. "It is known that several Death Eaters had ruthlessly killed his wife and three children... Like all that was the work of the Death Eaters, this was just random... Mr. Diogo is now staying with a close relative, as the house had been destroyed --"

"Now you're starting to see why we call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and not... well, you-know-what," said Mr. Weasley firmly, still looking at the radio. He shook his head quickly for a brief moment as if to let a bad thought tumble out of it.

"Voldemort," Ron muttered under his breath. Mr. Weasley didn't hear but Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Cho did.

It would appear to Harry that Hermione and Ron had gotten over calling Voldemort He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in their six years of knowing Harry but, it seemed, that Ginny and Cho had not.

When the radio announcer had finished his report, concluding with Vindus' enormous yearly salary and determination to put Voldemort to rest, everyone in the Burrow slowly went back to finishing up their packing.

At long last, everyone had finished packing and confirmed with Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to be spearheading Operation: Pack, that they were ready.

"Raides!" called Harry. "We're ready!"

The beautiful lion came striding out of the garden, closely followed by her new friend, Crookshanks and a terrified gnome held high in the air by her golden tail.

"You called?" said Raides.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Time to Disapparate. We're good to go."

"Oh," said Raides, sounding disappointed. "Just when I was about to teach this one a lesson," she added, waving the gnome held by her tail this way and that.

"I'm leaving Hedwig's cage open, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley yelled from all the way upstairs. "So she can go in and out as she pleases!"

"She'll be fine!" Harry yelled back. "Just make sure her water tray is full!"

Everyone, all twelve of them, grabbed their suitcases and stood in the living room. Bill, Charlie and Percy goggled at Raides as she transformed back into the Staff of Cybele and Harry picked her up, the tail wagging merrily in the breeze of the open back door. Mrs. Weasley ordered her husband to close it.

"I filled it up just this morning," she then told Harry.

The crystal of the staff disappeared and the tiny lion's mouth moved to speak. "You all have to hold onto someone else. This works just like a Portkey. Harry remembers multi-person Disapparation, I'm sure," said the staff with a grin. Harry had his first encounter with what Raides called multi-person Disapparation accidentally with the mark of ancients. He had quickly learned it was ancient magic, and that no one in several thousand years had ever done it.

"Do exactly as you did when you tried to Disapparate with your wand, except don't worry about getting splinched," Raides explained. As it was the easiest thing to do, the whole lot of them held hands, Cho taking the opportunity to grab onto Harry's shoulder as one of his hands was clutching the Staff of Cybele, the other, his suitcase. "Actually, I'm not sure you need to hold on to each other, just that I think it makes doing it easier."

"Everyone ready?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Percy and Hermione. "It's the wood at the moor, Harry," Mr. Weasley added.

"Deliquesco!" Harry shouted.

There was a flash of blue lightning, a hoot of Hedwig, a screech of Ginny and the last thing Harry saw before leaving the Burrow was the entire staff of Cybele glowing an ominous blue.

He felt nothing like he did when he Disapparated with his wand. It was clean, like he was simply picked up from the Burrow and dropped at the woods in the moor, like he was one place and then another, with no transition in between other than a sudden change of scenery.

There were a bunch of wizards Harry didn't know goggling at him, their eyes performing the familiar flick up to the scar on his forehead. Then, if possible, their mouths opened even wider at the sight of the Staff of Cybele.

"What," growled Raides, clearly annoyed as she transformed into the great lion. She positioned herself in front of Harry, so tall that the top of her beautiful, golden head grazed Harry's chin.

The Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and Cho giggled at the looks of extreme distress on the wizards' faces. Still open-mouthed, the pack of wizards strode out of the wood. Harry supposed that they would have asked for an autograph, but Raides scared them away.

"This way," said Mr. Weasley, following the distressed wizards.

They knew Harry was following them but with the sight of Raides still fresh on their minds, they didn't dare turn around. Harry giggled for the entire walk across the moor -- about twenty minutes -- populated with tents of all sizes and shapes -- literally -- until they reached a wizard in tartan robes of orange and white and a ridiculous top hat sitting in a chair with a box full of black balls and a white dot next to him. Quite a few heads turned to stare at Raides and, for once, not the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Hello, Mundungus," said Mr. Weasley.

Mundungus Fletcher was a rather strange wizard with a flair for bright clothing. Harry had met him only last year and didn't expect much in the way for change. He was a colorful character to say the least.

"Ah, such a good day it is, Arthur," said Mr. Fletcher. "Ah! Harry! So nice to see you again. And who is your rather, er --"

"Raides," said Raides in her usual growl. "Commonly known as the Staff of Cybele."

Mr. Fletcher stared for quite a while, watching Raides wave her tail merrily in the air, before Mr. Weasley interrupted him impatiently with, "Can we go find our camp site now, Mundungus?"

"Oh yes, of course, of course," he said, snapping out of it and grabbing one of the black balls out of the box next to him.

"Now we have to walk all the way back," Ron muttered.

Mr. Fletcher tapped the black ball with his wand and the white dot quickly moved around the surface of the ball, pointing in a direction. Harry knew this better as a wizard's compass. The white dot pointed in the direction you were supposed to go and when you were at your location, the white dot pointed straight up.

"My goodness, it looks like we're going to end up in the same place again -- wait, no, we're on the other side this time," said Mr. Weasley.

As far as the eye could see, there were tents decorated in the colors of each country. Of course, you couldn't tell them apart because both countries used red, white and blue. What helped to distinguish was the flag raised above several of the tents but not all. After five minutes of walking, Ginny complained of being tired. Raides happily let Ginny ride on her back.

Perhaps it was the loud cheering of people yelling themselves hoarse as Harry passed by them, perhaps it was the boos from the United States' fans, but Harry couldn't stop grinning. Excitement was flooding through him, excitement only brought on by a coming Fire Quidditch game.

This was only his third but he had made quite a name for himself in just two games. The only thing he didn't like were the few posters of his hand with a lightning bolt extending out from it to the Spiked Snitch. Last year he had disabled the blades of Spiked Snitch by accidentally calling a lightning bolt through his fingers and blasting them off. The tremendous surprise, as no one had commanded lightning for thousands of years, had sent the entire Quidditch field into silence until Dumbledore had started clapping. Just the year before, he had the mark of ancients and removed the blades with a simple charm. It was the episode last year that made him most famous in the Fire Quidditch world. They all joked the entire time about how badly the United States was going to lose this year.

Arriving at their place, Mr. Weasley tossed the wizard's compass at the sign reading "Weasley" and both of them Disapparated with a pop. Harry knew that they had both gone to the nearest garbage can. Mr. Weasley tapped both of the miniature tents on the ground with his wand and at once they transformed into fully grown five man tents each. Harry also knew that these weren't normal tents, but magically -- er -- enhanced. No one was truly bothered by the extraordinary inner proportions which included a bathroom, a table fit for fifteen, three bedrooms with fluffy pillows and a kitchen.

It was only noon when they arrived and when Cyrus Stone, team manager for England, a rather happy wizard choosing to dress himself in a stylish silver cloak and white robes, turned up at Harry's tent, he complained that they were late.

"All of our faults," said Hermione hastily before Mr. or Mrs. Weasley had a chance to say anything.

"Yes, well, I need to borrow -- galloping gargoyles, what is that?" he said, his eyes wide open and pointing at some space to the left and behind Harry. Everyone immediately knew that he had spotted Raides.

She stepped out from behind Harry, making herself more visible and introduced herself to Mr. Stone who didn't believe a word of it until Raides transformed herself into the staff. Harry grabbed the staff, threw a rock as hard as he could, high into the air and cast a levitation charm on a twig, smashing the two together. The end result was the twig exploding the rock into a thousand pieces, showering a place some one hundred feet down with very fine dust.

"Sh -- she'll be coming with you, then?" said Mr. Stone cautiously. Harry nodded and Raides transformed herself back into the great lion. "Take your broom, Mr. Potter."

"We have a slightly different team this year, you might guess," Mr. Stone went on as they walked back through the woods to the Quidditch field, only slightly less intimidated with the presence of Raides. The usual boyish cheer in his tone had gone missing and Harry and Raides knew very well why. He hadn't forgotten why Raides was with him in the first place and given the sheer volume of heads turning to do double and triple takes, he felt considerably safer. "We're keeping Wood. Great Keeper. He's been playing on a reserve team all year, practicing his butt off for this game. Miss Johnson, Miss Spinnet and Miss Bell are also still with us but obviously we have two new beaters, Madelyn Melfina and and Gregory Jungalavingi. Both top notch, excellent! Wouldn't have picked them unless they were."

Mr. Stone went on for the entire twenty-five minute walk about various things including strategies and that everyone was now riding a Dragonback which didn't surprise Harry. He also said that their player backlist (affectionately known as the Injured Players' Replacement List) was full and that negotiations have been made with Paladin Hayden's International Magical Hospital for any impending injuries. He told Harry that they had a reserve Seeker on the list, one Callum McClay, that Harry hoped they wouldn't have to use. Halfway to the Quidditch field, Mr. Stone was back to having that old bounce in his step. Raides walked behind them for the rest of the way.

When they did finally arrive at the enormous Fire Quidditch field -- and Harry could never recall it rising so high in the air -- the golden glow from the stands themselves gleamed his eye through his glasses. Last year it seated five hundred thousand witches and wizards and this year was not likely to be any different.

"The Quidditch World Cup stadium took five hundred to build," Mr. Stone said, noting the awestruck look on Harry's face.

"I know," Harry told him. "Mr. Weasley told me. How many for this one?"

"I believe it took two thousand. They had a hell of a time finding wizards to work on it!"

As they approached the eleven gold and scarlet blurs in the sky, the team, including the five people on the backlist, were already at the Quidditch field. Just as last year, they weren't allowed to practice with the Fire Quidditch Bludgers, Quaffle and Snitch. They did, however, throw up four Bludgers and two Golden Snitches.

When Harry joined them, it was pandemonium. Up in the air on his Dragonback, Harry had a hard time dodging Bludger after Bludger. Now that there were four of them up in the air, they seemed much more capable of knocking him off his broom. About fifteen minutes into practice, Raides made her voice heard, calling Harry back down. They had both completely forgotten that Harry was to ride her like his broom instead of his Dragonback.

Switching from broom to staff, Harry soared back into the air, not feeling much of a difference except that he could turn much, much sharper. This gave him a much easier time dodging Bludgers and after two hours of near misses with Bludgers to various parts of his body including a close call with his nose, the Golden Snitch beat it wings helplessly against Harry's fingers.

"Wow, Harry," Oliver Wood, their Keeper, yelled from across the field astonished. Oliver had been a Keeper at Hogwarts for three years and a most enthusiastic captain for Gryffindor's Quidditch team, Harry thought. "Usually you get it much faster than that."

"I know," said Harry, "but these stupid Bludgers are making it harder."

"Just watch your back in the game because --"

"I know, I know," Harry groaned. "All four of them will be tailing me when I'm chasing the Snitch. I've been practicing this time, though."

And then Harry remembered something that he had cleanly forgotten about: he didn't practice a way of disabling the fiery Bludgers. This was no comfort but he told Oliver regardless that he had a way to take the blades off the Spiked Snitch. Maybe he could just try to avoid them as best as possible? But there were four of them...

"Excellent weather they're saying for tomorrow," Mr. Stone was saying fervently. It would appear that since he had been talking himself silly, he had talked Raides clean out of his head. "A breezy day in August tomorrow. Couldn't ask for more!"

Harry was extremely glad to see that Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson had been as excellent Chasers as they had ever been. They took the time to tell Harry that after having graduated from Hogwarts, they played in a regional team all together, replacing the three Chasers already on that team. Mr. Stone had spotted them during his travels around England and immediately asked them to try out for England's Fire Quidditch team. They happily accepted, fully confident that with Harry as the Seeker, they weren't going to lose.

Mr. Stone joined them in the air, commentating on what they were doing. He repeatedly kept cheering as goal after goal, Oliver had a hard time blocking Quaffles soaring past him into the fifty foot high golden hoops. Harry had expressed his concern that Oliver was just losing his touch. It was then that Oliver insisted Harry take the Quaffle.

After fifteen minutes, Oliver had caught every last throw Harry made. He was satisfied -- Angelina, Katie and Alicia were just that good. They took a half hour break for lunch and went back into the air. The practice wasn't stressing, it was just so they could coordinate themselves with one another.

Sirius arrived with Ron and Hermione at his side with an hour of practice to go. Harry and Sirius took a good five minutes to say hello and when Ron kept staring longingly at Harry's Dragonback, Madelyn let Ron take her spot. She said it was because she was tired. Harry knew better. Sirius showed Harry the Daily Prophet from last summer in which there was a picture of Harry and Ron that someone had sneakily taken. Getting the Staff of Cybele was no easy feat and involved getting the front end of a Clades Ultimus, which the staff handily prevented from killing Harry and Ron. Ron had shared the spotlight with Harry for quite a few good months and it would appear he still was.

Flying around on Harry's Dragonback, Ron tried to show off a few moves he had been practicing since before Harry arrived at the Burrow. This included knocking Bludgers into one another (which he only managed to do once). By accident, he managed to whack one Bludger with his club into another Bludger, which careened into a third Bludger which sent that one flying off into the direction of the fourth Bludger which by some miracle hit the Quaffle that Katie had mis-passed to Alicia and sent it through one of the golden hoops. For a full ten minutes, Ron didn't stop staring at his club like it had been bewitched and it nearly cost him an unfractured arm.

Mr. Stone insisted that Madelyn take her position back in the air. She and Gregory tried for dear life to try and knock Bludgers into other Bludgers or into the Quaffle but simply couldn't; it was just a skill of Ron and the other Gryffindor team Beater, Kylie Randal. Kylie had a thing for Ron. She always giggled around him and Ron thought she treated Harry like a kid. To Ron's pleasure, Kylie graduated Hogwarts last year.

It was practically sundown when Mr. Stone let them go. Sirius immediately walked over to Harry as he landed with a soft thump on the hard ground. He took one look at Raides as she transformed into the great, seven foot lion, opened his mouth to say something, made a squeaking noise and then closed it.

"I get a lot of that," Raides told him. Sirius looked taken aback that she could talk.

"You'll get used to it after a while," said Harry, grinning. "That's the Staff of Cybele. Her name is Raides. She can transform into a lion but the only thing is that, well, she can't use magic unless she's the staff."

While they were walking back towards the tent, Sirius sloppily cleared his throat and managed to say, "Many people at the camp site are saying they think someone's gonna get hurt what with more Bludgers now."

"I know how I'm going to get rid of the blades on the Snitch but I -- er -- didn't find a way to get rid of the Bludgers..." said Harry quietly so only Sirius, Ron and Hermione could hear.

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Sirius assured Harry, patting him genially on the shoulder.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry replied nervously.

"You could always try what you did two years ago, you know," said Raides, which startled Sirius. Harry shot her a quizzical look and she raised her golden-furred eyebrows in a superior fashion."Remember how you shot a shard of ice at them?"

"But I had the mark of ancients... I tried that last year and it wasn't strong enough... ?" Harry said, confused.

Raides grinned gleefully at the trees just ahead of her and then turned to look at Harry for a bit, still grinning. She was apparently proud of herself for something.

"You're starting to sound like Albus Dumbledore," Harry told her. She laughed, her voice echoing loudly throughout the woods.

Raides didn't speak a word when Harry asked her what she meant but he had this strange feeling that, as always, what he needed to do would come to him at the last minute. He tended to trust his instincts more and more lately.

Back at the tent, Mrs. Weasley told Harry that Cho's parents had come to pick her up to stay at their tent. Slightly downtrodden that Cho wouldn't be able to see him just before he left tomorrow morning, Mrs. Weasley pointed out that the Changs' tent was no more than fifteen feet away from their own. Harry looked in the direction Mrs. Weasley pointed in and saw a rather mean-looking wizard glaring at him before disappearing inside the tent decorated with lightning bolts.

A witch no older than thirteen had come running up to Harry with a quill and one of those miniature models Fred and George had made. She asked him to sign it but Harry laughed as Ginny shot her a very contemptuous look and she scampered away. Ginny's mother was about to scorn her but she seemed to think better of it when she saw even Percy painfully trying to hide a snigger as well (everyone seemed to think it was funny).

"Told you, Harry," Fred sneered. "Like hotcakes."

Harry scowled.

Chapter 8: FIRE QUIDDITCH

After peacefully eating dinner with the Weasleys, Sirius and Hermione, Mrs. Weasley hastily suggested they get to bed immediately. The general consensus among everyone was that this game was going to be far more interesting with the rule changes introduced since last year's. Harry fell asleep, dreaming happily about catching both Snitches at the same time, one in each hand but he was shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley at some time in the morning. He felt he got enough sleep but she wouldn't even let him lay there for a few more minutes.

"Up!" she barked. "Now!"

"All right... all right..." said Harry thickly, his face still firmly planted in his pillows.

"And get changed into your Quidditch robes, dear," she said, receding back to her usual, kinder self. "Mr. Stone wants everyone out on the field and ready. And wake everyone else for me, will you?"

Mrs. Weasley practically ran out of their bedroom. Harry dangled an arm off his top bunk and shook Ron's shoulder as he had not woken up from Mrs. Weasley's barking.

"'S matter?" said Ron thickly, not even bothering to move.

"Nothing," Harry said, sitting up and jumping down. "Time to get up."

He poked Raides awake, knowing full well that her morning growl and yawn was loud enough to wake up Fred and George as well. Indeed, Raides' voice rumbled the floor so much that they woke and sat up so quickly you'd think that they had been shocked with a bit of electricity.

Fred and George immediately conjured curtains, opened their suitcases and took out a pair of fresh robes to change into behind the curtains. Harry left the bedroom for the bathroom, taking his Quidditch robes, necklace, gold wristwatch and bracelet with him.

He placed the robes on the shelf above the toilet and his jewelry on top of that. He washed his face, cleaning it of the sweat that had accumulated overnight. It was hot outside, after all... or was it the result of that nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach? For a split second, while Harry was examining the wet bangs of his black, untidy hair, he saw something different about the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. After thinking how ridiculous it would have been for it to look like it shrunk a little, he took another look at it and was sure that he imagined it.

Harry stared for a minute at his last name, Potter, Cho had sewn in gold on the back of his cloak and then changed into his Quidditch robes. Putting on the Order of Merlin necklace, his mother's Phoenix Bracelet and the golden wristwatch he got for a birthday present, Harry left the bathroom fully dressed and ready.

Raides brushed up against his leg as he walked into the kitchen, following the drunken footsteps of Sirius (he had bags under his eyes). Mr. Weasley pointed at a box of Bertie Bott's Pancakes In A Second and Harry understood.

"Eat fast, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry. "Mr. Stone's coming soon. We'll meet you on the field after the game's over."

Harry wolfed down the pancakes and barely had time to stand up when Mr. Stone stuck his head into the kitchen, positively beaming. He beckoned Harry out and they headed back to the Fire Quidditch field. The rest of the team was clamboring around the field, stumbling over their own feet, apparently too tired to walk properly yet.

"Come on, team!" shouted Mr. Stone excitedly, clapping his hands. He, evidently, had been properly woken up and not jolted to his senses from a sound sleep.

Harry looked over at Oliver and what he guessed was true: Oliver was standing bright-eyed and attentive. Oliver had always woken Harry up in the wee hours of the morning for Quidditch practice ever since Harry's second year. He worked the Gryffindor team so hard one year, that as George Weasley, once a Beater for Gryffindor, once put it, they hadn't "been properly dry since August."

A drumroll of footsteps made Harry turn around to see Raides come tearing through the woods and onto the field, some of her golden fur sticking up in the wrong direction from running so fast. Charging at Harry, she jumped while at least one hundred feet away from him, her powerful legs taking her a frightening distance off the ground. She then transformed into the Staff of Cybele while airborne, the speed of her run carrying the flying staff all the way towards Harry. He stretched a hand out, and, the staff tearing through the air at him, even Harry was amazed that he caught it without a hitch.

"Right..." muttered Oliver to himself.

"Sorry," said Raides, panting, the crystal ball missing.

"Wait, that thing can still talk while it's a staff?" Oliver said, staring at the tiny mouth as it moved. Raides grinned at him, her scarlet tail blowing lightly in the wind.

"Ludo Bagman, who you all know from the Department of International Games and Sports, is going to be sounding the gong for everyone to head over here in about one hour," Mr. Stone said, after everyone had finished staring at the staff. "As you can see, they extended the seats even higher up than last year. If I remember what he told me correctly, about six hundred thousand are showing up today!" he shouted exuberantly. Everyone was gaping at one another except Harry who was nervous enough with just one hundred thousand pairs of eyes looking at him. "They had to use very complicated Invisibility Charms to hide this stadium from surrounding Muggle areas.

"Now, just to remind you, there's four Bludgers, two Spiked Snitches, both of which must be caught and are still worth one hundred and fifty points. If you fly as well as you did yesterday, we're sure to win --"

All of their heads suddenly turned as the United States team, in their red and blue robes with white cloaks walked nonchalantly towards the opposite side of the field. They were carrying what looked like modified Dragonbacks. Whereas Harry's Dragonback had a black handle and fire-colored twigs on it's tail, their handles were painted red, white and blue. The twigs were several inches longer too and Raides spoke her mind immediately.

"What are you lot worried about," she said in a half-drawl that eerily reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy, one particular wizard from Slytherin whom Harry hated -- a lot. "You've all got Dragonbacks and your Seeker has something even better. And no, Harry, not only can you turn better, but just trying going faster. Just -- er -- hold on tightly," she warned.

"Can they do that?" said Angelina sounding worried and pointing at one rather well-built player with the name La Grange written across her back.

She had absolutely no hair at all and shot them all a very evil look before turning back to her team. One of them, Harry noted, was wearing a cloak made, not of cloth, but of dragon hide. Another one of them had a mohawk on top of his head and a long, silver chain dangling out from beneath his robes like some monstrosity of a key chain.

"They belong at a rock concert," Harry blurted out, "not a Quidditch game!"

"I agree," said Callum blankly, staring open-mouthed at the girl with no hair.

"Rock concert or not... it looks like they're trying to scare us into messing up!" Mr. Stone shouted defiantly. "We're not going to let that work, are we!"

"HEY!" shouted one member of the United States team. This player had artfully, or in Harry's opinion, messily, torn his cloak and was sporting violently blood-red, dyed hair. The entire England team turned to look at him and when they did, he made quite a rude gesture with one of his hands.

"What do they think they're playing at!" shouted Alicia angrily.

"Oooh that makes me so mad!" Katie shouted equally angrily.

The rest of the United States team joined in and was making all sorts of rude gestures now.

"NOTHING WITHOUT POTTER, ARE YOU?" jeered the girl with no hair.

This set a set off a box full of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks in Harry's stomach. He accidentally tightened his grip on Raides too much and she growled at him.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"Understandable."

The team captain was making no effort to curb his team's actions and, after a few minutes, he joined them. Harry's anger, along with everyone else's, only grew.

"We can't do anything," Oliver said, slightly disheartened. "There's nothing in the rules about being a good sport."

"Let's make them put their egos where their skills are," Harry said, his free fist clenched.

"Yeah," said Madelyn. "We know how big their ego is, let's see how big their skills are!"

"That's the spirit," said Mr. Stone proudly.

There was a bit of a pause while England's team regained their courage. Harry had a small struggle, fighting to keep his free hand where it was and not letting it jump to the plaque dangling from his neck. In the end, he succumbed for a quick second or three when Mr. Stone beckoned them to get in the air, a small bit of his usual -- or unusual, depending on your point of view -- calm self seeping in.

The two teams stayed on separate sides of the field, forbidden to play together until the real game starts. Each United States player took every single available opportunity to throw an insult at any England player that passed by them. Harry took note that the modified Dragonbacks were performing better than the unmodified ones, turning sharper and moving faster. This didn't give Harry any comfort as the United States Beater, whom he now knew was the well-built girl named La Grange, sent the normal Quidditch Bludgers screaming around their half of the field. She had bigger muscles in her arms than even Gregory, who was bigger than Mr. Stone.

The United States Seeker, one Jeff Uder, announced to the entire field each time he caught the Snitch, which, to Harry's dismay, was more often than him. Maybe it was his anger at the team, he thought to himself, as his fingers wrapped around the Golden Snitch for the first time in the past half hour -- Uder had caught it twice in the past fifteen minutes, owing largely to his broom's seeming ability to track the Snitch by itself. Harry watched as Uder had caught it again in under two minutes, waving his rubbery arms madly in the air, shouting "I GOT IT, POTTER! I GOT IT!"

There was a silent agreement among all the players of the England team. Never had Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Oliver and Harry wanted to win a game more, not even in Harry's third year when enmity between Slytherin and Gryffindor had grown to a high point such that even the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Houses were cheering on Gryffindor -- except then, Slytherin wasn't using enhanced broomsticks.

At half past noon, when they had sufficient time to digest their lunch, Bagman walked, almost skipping, onto the field, calling everyone to the ground, with a small hammer and what looked like a miniature gong. There was nothing miniature about the ear-rumbling sound it produced when Bagman hit it with the small hammer.

"Okay, team," said Oliver, breathing in a fashion that was clearly supposed to calm him down, but failing miserably. "They may look more dangerous and have better brooms... We know we've got the best of the best. We're not going to let them stop us. We're going to win!"

The most Oliver got was a muffled "hurrah" from one player on the backlist, Jeanie Tidus. Regardless, each and every one of them felt a rush of excitement only a worldwide Quidditch game could bring. Mr. Stone beckoned them to the waiting area behind the giant hoops, the United States team manager moving his team towards theirs. The gigantic blackboard that showed the scores came to life and started flashing advertisements ("Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A risk with every bite!"; "Try New Bertie Bott's Pancakes In A Second - It's Instant!")

Harry watched, his nerves at a breaking point, as the first of the hundreds of thousands of wizards and witches started to fill the stands. He didn't know exactly where the Weasleys, Sirius, Hermione and the Chang's would be sitting but he got an unexpected answer when Cho came running right at him.

Cho greeted him with an embarrassing hug, Harry turning a bright red, but he was glad to see another friendly face all the same. Causing Harry to blush even more, Angelina, Katie and Alicia all thought it was cute that he became more than acquaintances with Cho. They knew well that Harry fancied her but had all graduated Hogwarts before Harry and Cho... got to know each other better.

"You should see what the United States team was doing during pre-game practice," Harry told her. "They were making all kinds of faces and nasty gestures at us." Cho made a face of pure disgust, her mouth hanging open. "They modified their brooms, too."

"What, they're cheating?" Cho asked Mr. Stone.

"You're allowed to use any broom you can get your hands on," Mr. Stone explained. "If they happen to have their own custom manufacturer in the United States... so be it."

"I think their Seeker's broom is bewitched to chase the Snitch," said Harry. Everyone turned to look at him for his seemingly ridiculous accusation.

"Bewitched to chase the Snitch?" Mr. Stone repeated. Harry nodded. "They certainly aren't allowed to do that!" Mr. Stone said loudly.

"It looked like it, Mr. Stone," said Oliver, agreeing with Harry. The rest of the team nodded their heads in worried agreement.

"Why didn't you tell me during practice!" shrieked Mr. Stone.

"Because you couldn't do anything then, either," Oliver reminded him curtly. "They're not going to call the game off, not when everyone's already here."

"That's the trouble with this setup," muttered Mr. Stone. "They prefer to keep the game as dangerous as possible and that includes not having practices between the teams beforehand. For the Quidditch World Cup, all countries must agree on brooms. For Fire Quidditch, since there's so few teams and they haven't had any trouble in the past, they don't bother."

"Great," said Oliver loudly, darkly and sarcastically, doing a sort of anxious spin where he stood. "Just great."

Harry felt an uncomfortable number of eyes start to turn to look at him until, eventually, all of them were.

Before anyone opened their mouth, Harry read their minds. "I know, I know," he groaned. "It's all down to me. I have to catch both Spiked Snitches as fast as possible," he recited.

"You got your wand, right, Harry?" Cho said slowly.

"Yeah," Harry said, showing it to her and then stuffing it back inside his robes.

"If you're going to try to go really fast with me," Raides piped up, having been silent so far, "just hold on really tight, don't worry about hurting me. Better yet, use a Friction Charm, Strigo Lapsus, so you don't have to strangle me. Just say Perigo Lapsus to remove it. And if a big chunk of my fur falls off, I'll be really upset."

Harry and a few others couldn't help but laugh shortly which was exactly what Raides intended.

"Welcome to the International Ministry of Quidditch's 1998 Fire Quidditch game!" came the booming voice of Bagman.

Mr. Stone gave an excited squeak and Harry was forcefully reminded of tiny Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher at Hogwarts who was no taller than Harry when he was eleven. Upon saying Harry's name for the first time, Professor Flitwick gave an excited squeak and tumbled off the books he used to prop himself up.

"Oh!" shrieked Mr. Stone. "That's it! Miss Chang, sorry dear, but you have to get back to your seat now."

"Good luck, Harry!" she said, giving him one last hug and then exiting.

Oliver had a broad grin on his face but Harry had a very good idea of what he was going to say as his lower jaw just started to move.

"Not a word, Oliver," Harry warned him, unable to stop his face from staying red.

"And there goes Miss Cho Chang, folks, no doubt visiting Harry Potter, star player for England!" Bagman boomed.

Oliver tried to say something again but Harry silenced him with the Staff of Cybele rather than his finger.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the world over you have come to watch Fire Quidditch!" Bagman shouted.

"Why don't they show team mascots like they did for the World Cup?" Harry asked.

"Propaganda and money," explained Mr. Stone. "They run this strictly and the Ministry is secretly trying to keep excitement down for it but as you can see it hasn't worked. Mascots build up awareness and they can't afford to keep mascots, either. The teams don't have enough money."

"Please welcome the United States!" Bagman went on. "Uder! Sebastian! Leslie! McMera! Ghesi! Jacobs! Aaaaand La Grange! My, they do look colorful and interesting, don't they?"

Harry watched as they exited the changing room just opposite the field from him and rose into the air, a blurred mix of red, white and blue.

"Playing for England, I give you Wood! Spinnet! Bell! Johnson! Jungalavingi! Melfina! Aaaaaaaand Potter!"

Harry mounted Raides and rocketed into the air to deafening applause. After all, having spectacularly won two Fire Quidditch games so far does give one a high reputation. People were chanting his name, holding up signs. Harry took one look at the rude United States team, at the girl with no hair, the Seeker with messily torn robes and then at a sign bearing his name in large, lightning-blue lettering. He sat up straighter, more bravely on his broom -- er, staff.

"Showing pure dedication to the game," said Bagman as all fourteen brooms and their players centered themselves on the field, "from Egypt as usual, our most excellent referee and Chairwizard from the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A wizard wearing dirty gold and brown robes came soaring into the air on a Dragonback of his own. He pointed his wand down at the enormous box of Fire Quidditch balls and it opened, sending four fiery Bludgers (which magically caught fire as they left the box), two Spiked Snitches and one sonic-speed Quaffle straight up. The Bludgers went this way and that, the Spiked Snitches sped out of view and the Quaffle began to fall back down once it was a fair height above every player.

"THEY'RE OFF!" roared Bagman as Wood shot back towards the England hoops and Katie blazed forward, the Quaffle clutched tightly in her arm.

"England in possession!" roared Bagman. "Look at Miss Johnson go!"

Harry watched Angelina closely. The United States Seeker, Uder, was tailing her, an evil glint in his eye. Just before he caught up with her, Angelina passed the Quaffle on to Katie. Alicia nodded at Katie and then it started.

"Johnson! Bell! Spinnet! Bell! Johnson! Bell! Spinnet -- no, Johnson... Oh, I say..." Harry heard Bagman shouting.

Angelina and Alicia went on opposite edges of the enormous field, passing the screaming Quaffle in an enchantingly difficult pattern where occasionally they'd skip over one of themselves and the United States Chasers would swear loudly. After about five minutes of fending off the offending Chasers --

"SCORE FOR ENGLAND!" Bagman boomed happily as the Quaffle went rocketing past the United States Keeper, Samuel Sebastian. It looked for a minute like he had pondered taking his dragon hide cloak off and catching the Quaffle inside it but seemed to think better of the idea. And so far, Harry noticed, no one had touched the fiery Bludgers -- they simply looked too scared.

It was when Katie sent the Quaffle screaming down half of the field only to be intercepted by the United States Chaser, Mike Jacobs, the one with the mohawk and eye sore of a chain dangling from his robes, did Gregory find the courage to send a Bludger zooming towards Jacobs. He did a most excellent ballerina spin in midair, narrowly missing a lot of heat across his back.

"Oooh, narrow miss there and Jacobs drops the Quaffle! England's Spinnet in possession!"

Thirty minutes later, England had scored twice more, the United States once, bringing the score to thirty-ten with no sign of either Spiked Snitch. Bored, Harry cast an eye out for the United States Chaser, Jeff Uder, and saw him slowly circling the middle of the Fire Quidditch field.

"What d'you think, Raides?" Harry asked, looking down at the staff's tiny lion mouth as it yawned.

"I think I'm going to need back surgery after this," she replied. "That's what I think."

Harry laughed airily and said, "I mean their Seeker!"

"Nah," said Raides dismissively, dropping the fake bit about her back hurting. "No contest. Look, he can't even handle his broom!"

Raides was quite right. He flew sloppily, his broom bucking every now and then and Harry couldn't tell if it was that the broom was defective, or, probably the correct answer, that he was just that bad at flying.

"Wonder if it's those holes in his cloak," Harry suggested.

"Who knows... who cares..." said Raides airily, turning around on her own accord to Madelyn who just whacked all four fiery Bludgers at United States Chaser Jacobs, who was holding the Quaffle tightly.

Harry heard him shriek, tighten his grip and then flatten himself against his broom handle, all four Bludgers chasing him resembling a jet of flame.

It was an hour later when the score was at one hundred twenty for England, twenty for the United States did things start to get dirty.

"Harry, ripped-robes boy, twelve o'clock," said Raides, letting out a cheery growl of near-victory.

"What -- oh!"

Uder had his wand pointing at a speck of gold some two hundred feet from Harry. Feeling the need, Harry shouted "Strigo Lapsus!", pointing his own wand at the patch of fur he'd been holding onto. And then he flattened himself against the staff handle.

The speed was incredible.

The mere light breeze was turned into a force of wind so powerful, flapping his hair so hard that it hurt as it whipped against his head. Harry could feel the skin making up his face being stretched back, also being whipped by the wind. Before he even had a chance to look for the Spiked Snitch -- and he didn't have a hope anyway while going so fast -- Uder had dived downwards to avoid getting many bones in his body broken by a speeding, out of control Harry. And then, fifty feet away from the field, Harry slowed down, turned around and rejoined his teammates.

Oliver had missed two well-placed goals from the United States Chaser, Aidan Ghesi a few minutes later and the fiery Bludgers had been put into full use. While Uder had found the Spiked Snitch once again, all four balls of flame went tearing after him. Harry wouldn't disable them until he was about the catch the Snitch, it just wasn't worth it.

"FOUL!" cried Alicia, who had just been whacked, not by a Bludger, but by the bat of La Grange.

"Sorry!" La Grange said in her most innocent voice, not sounding remotely convincing at all. "Thought she was a Bludger!"

"Hard to mistake something for one of these Bludgers," Harry murmured to himself. Raides looked up at him and nodded. Very soon it became apparent what the United States was doing other than trying to look intimidating: they were fiercely controlling all four Bludgers, occasionally swinging their bats near an England player.

But they didn't have any time to ponder whether La Grange's newest attempts at giving Katie the hot seat had succeeded when Harry spotted a glint of gold and a spin of sharp blades.

Not wanting to miss the Snitch, he gave enough speed to his broom to bring him quickly to the Spiked Snitch, immediately feeling blistering heat behind him.

"Careful, Harry!" Katie called, the Bludgers having moved off of her and onto Harry.

He didn't see it, but he could feel one coming straight towards him and on instinct, he did a barrel roll to avoid it. The Bludgers did all sorts at attempts at hitting him -- they were clearly much faster than last year, when they couldn't even keep up with Harry's Dragonback.

Around the United States goal hoops the Spiked Snitch went, before turning sharply around and heading back towards the England goal hoops and Harry continued to perform acrobatics in the air. The extra long Fire Quidditch field would make the job a little easier, at least giving him time before the Spiked Snitch would have to turn again.

"United States Beater Zoe Leslie knocks a Bludger off England's Seeker's tail!" Bagman shouted. Harry didn't bother turning around. "Was that supposed to help them or hurt them?"

"Okay," Harry said to himself, not noticing Uder pointing his wand at the Spiked Snitch, too. "Simple levitation charm." He pulled his wand out, pointed it at the Snitch and no sooner had he started saying the words did he hear a resonating and ghastly "oooh" from the surrounding crowd.

Raides turned on her own, pointing Harry at the limp figure of Oliver Wood on the ground, some fifty feet below. He was turned on his stomach, his limbs splayed on the ground in all directions and most of his hair had been burned off. Harry saw a big patch of charred, black and crusty skin, no doubt from a fiery Bludger having been aimed directly at his head. The burn looked so bad Oliver was almost sure to be dead.

"Oh my. This could be a bad situation, folks..." said Bagman darkly.

"He's right," Raides croaked. "That -- does not -- look good."

"They've got medic witches surrounding him," Harry said, feeling the panic in himself rise. "They've got to be able to do something!"

His back gave a panicky twitch, staring at a ghostly white Oliver

Every single player had stopped moving, even the United States players, to watch Oliver on the ground. All manner of potions poured over the skin or into Oliver's mouth didn't wake him up. Harry's heart sunk from where he floated in the air down to the ground with Oliver. He did all he could think of doing and stayed where he was, watching, waiting, hoping.

The scene intensified with more and more medic witches Apparating at Oliver's side, carrying armfuls of rainbow colored potions. It didn't look like they were succeeding with even Charms. Harry distinctly heard someone scream something about Lily Potter. Harry knew his mother to be great with Healing Charms. If only she was still around... and his heart sunk still lower. Mr. Stone could be seen running out.

Feeling utterly helpless, a feeling which he never liked, Harry dived straight downwards, dropped Raides and then ran towards Oliver, thinking it might take away some of his helplessness. Raides transformed into the great golden and scarlet lion (to even more "oohs" of the crowd) and stampeded just behind Harry. They both skidded to a halt just before the seeming lifeless body.

"Sorry, Mr. Potter," said one of the medic witches. "We're -- well, as you can see..." she said heavily. "But he's still breathing," she assured everyone, "barely..."

Harry saw all right, but he didn't want to. The damage looked far worse up close, Oliver having so much skin burned, Harry could swear he was looking at muscle. One of the witches merely tried slapping him. Obviously, it didn't work.

"The Phoenix Bracelet," Raides said suddenly and softly. "Harry, the bracelet!" she now shouted.

"The... what?" Harry heard one of the witches say in disbelief.

Not even bothering to try to reprimand himself for forgetting, Harry pushed his way through the medic witches. The Phoenix Bracelet held extraordinarily powerful healing magic that only ancients can use. It was quite easy to forget this, as he had only had it a few, short months. Bending over Oliver, Harry stuck the hand on which wrist the Phoenix Bracelet was over the grievous wound.

The medic witches stood in awe as the fire that normally circled around the band jumped clean off towards Harry's outstretched hand and down his fingers. It turned a pearly white and glazed itself generously over the charred skin on the back of Oliver's head. Harry, wishing for nothing more than for it to work, paid no attention to the dazzling special effects of the bracelet and focused his all of his attention on the white glow. It was now putting color back into the black skin and turning it back to normal, non-scarred skin. A monstrous, white scab formed over the entire area, falling off only a second later only to be consumed by a great fire. The entire wound had been healed.

The fire turned red again, jumping back onto Harry's fingers and clinging to the bracelet, dancing around the Phoenix Bracelet's silver band once again.

"A Phoenix Bracelet!" squealed one of the witches, looking agape at Harry. "But, do those not require an ancient to work?"

"Yeah," said Harry impatiently, "they do and you're looking at one, remember?" She tried to say something but words seemed to fail her. "Now what can you do!" Harry shouted at her and she seemed to come back to her senses.

"Yes, well. He's perfectly fine now," she muttered as she turned Oliver over and then shouted, "Ennervate!" pointing her wand at him.

He let out an almighty cough, spitting up bits of blood and opened his eyes.

"Harry?" he said in the quietest of voices. Oliver propped himself up on his hands.

"Looks like he's going to be okay, folks!" shouted Bagman happily.

Harry did nothing but return Oliver's weak smile and then stand up. He was just glad Oliver hadn't died; the situation looked scarily close to that.

"You're all right, Wood, thanks to Potter, here," said Mr. Stone.

"I suggest we use one player on the backlist --" said one of the medic witches, only to be interrupted by Oliver.

"No," he said hastily in a please-let-me-play sort of voice, getting gingerly to his feet, "I'm okay." He moved his arms and tested out his legs by shaking them in front of him individually. All seemed normal.

That same medic witch gave a look so reminiscent of Madam Pomfrey, the strict and dedicated Hogwarts nurse, who Oliver clearly still remembered, that he gave up.

"Miss Jeanie Tidus," said Mr. Stone, turning toward a would-be attractive girl if it wasn't for her silver-dyed hair. "You're up first."

Jeanie nodded and ran a finger through her long, silver hair.

"It looks like they're almost ready to go again!" Bagman said.

Mr. Stone and the United States team managers agreed they were set to go and then nodded towards Bagman.

Fourteen brooms rose into the air once again and the sonic speed Quaffle was thrown high above them.

Afterwards, the game proceeded like normal except no one could help but notice Jeanie wasn't nearly as good a Keeper as Oliver was. The United States managed to score many more times, bringing the score to an ever closer one hundred and thirty to seventy.

The light of day slowly became dimmer and dimmer and as several people left the field only to return with food, Harry spotted a Spiked Snitch that was apparently tailing him, mocking him.

Harry turned on a dime and the Spiked Snitch immediately tried to escape his view. Four fiery Bludgers made a mad attack at Harry's head and he ducked to avoid joining the Headless Hunt. Once again, Uder had his wand pointed at the Spiked Snitch and at this point, Harry figured he was just waiting to disable it on his own. He concentrated on keeping the Bludgers from hitting him and not losing the Snitch.

"Right, this time no one's going to get walloped," Harry said more to himself than to Raides. "Furcilla Leviosa!" he shouted, his wand pointed directly at the Spiked Snitch. Harry watched, victory -- or at least half of it -- in his eyes, as the blades of the Spiked Snitch gave a lurch until breaking off with an incredible force, doing far more than he intended.

The blades of the Snitch scattered in all directions, one burrowing itself into Harry's left forearm, the hand of which was clutching Raides, and another catching him square in the chest. He swore loudly, swerving in the air, the Bludgers leaving him, and listening to the snickers of Uder who, Harry then realized, had his wand out to make that very thing happen.

Blood was freely flowing from his wounded hand and coloring his robes a deeper red while a sharp, stinging pain ran up and down the area of both wounds. Feeling a million pairs of eyes on him and the inevitable breathless silence, Harry closed his eyes to keep the pain tolerable. He then wrenched the small, one inch blade from the middle of his forearm, causing a great deal more pain and then pulled the one out of his chest. Harry did just as he had done for Oliver to repair the wounds and once he was wound-free, but still bloody, Harry urged Raides further forward and, teeth gritted, swore even more loudly as Uder caught the spike-free Snitch, narrowly missing getting a burned hand.

"UDER CATCHES THE FIRST SPIKED SNITCH!" roared Bagman to tumultuous applause from the United States crowd and a heavy sigh from England supporters. He tried his very to keep his personal conflict with the catch out of his seemingly happy voice. "The United States leads! Two hundred and twenty to one hundred and thirty!"

"No fair!" Ron shouted angrily. "Foul play! Uder did that! No way Harry would have!"

"Nothing anyone can do, Ron," said Mr. Weasley, just as disappointed as his son. "They can't prove it. Besides, he's perfectly okay (bless that bracelet). Don't worry, he'll get the next one."

"I sure hope so," muttered Ron.

"There will be a thirty minute intermission before the game starts again!" Bagman announced.

Harry didn't need to grab the Order of Merlin plaque dangling from his neck to feel any better -- it was the large sign that said some mighty rude words to the United States. Harry grinned and the game got progressively dirtier. With La Grange's failed attempt at accidentally killing Oliver, Uder's successful attempt at purposely injuring Harry and then catching the Snitch under Harry's nose, the American players saw fit to let their arrogance and egos get the best of them by the time the game started again.

The Beaters cared not if their clubs hit human or Bludger and dived in all sorts of directions. Harry watched Uder closely, seeing if he had any sign of the Snitch. Uder would definitely be looking out for this one because if he caught it, game over, the United States wins. Uder wasn't watching Harry at all. At least Wronski Feint's don't work (a technique involving a Seeker faking having seen the Snitch) in Fire Quidditch: the Bludgers chase a Seeker if they're actually chasing the Snitch and not just faking it.

As the game wore on, the Spiked Snitch hadn't presented itself and the dim light of day turned to dusk. Some people, but very few, could actually be seen leaving and still fewer coming back just to see if it was over yet. Many players were feeling extremely weary and tired, Harry included. He floated, dazed, over the heads of the other twelve players, Uder still casting an eye out for the sneaky Spiked Snitch.

Bored and his eyes almost closing, Harry felt wide awake when the score was announced to be five hundred to six hundred and forty. The United States team had lengthened it's lead and soon, even if Harry caught the Snitch, it wouldn't help. He took part in watching continual rude gestures and words from the United States players, mostly from La Grange and when he heard Uder call him "scar head," he really didn't care.

Gregory had heard it, too, and his reaction was much different. He grabbed Madelyn's club from her hand and whacked two fiery Bludgers at Uder. Uder instinctively tried to jump backwards, a very dumb move being at least fifty feet in the air, and landed with a sickening crunch on the ground to loud gasps from the crowd.

Gregory clasped a hand to his mouth and dropped both clubs. Harry knew the Phoenix Bracelet had no hope of bringing someone back from the dead. Once again, medic witches quickly Apparated, this time right at Uder's side. Harry probably should have felt slightly more sorry but simply couldn't. Despite himself, he didn't want to see anyone die and lowered to the ground. Raides turned into the great lion and rode Harry over to Uder before turning back into the Staff of Cybele.

"He's got many broken bones!" said one witch, feeling all over Uder's back.

"But is he alive?"

Harry stepped closer, his hand releasing it's grip on the Staff of Cybele all on it's own and looked down. The medic witches didn't usher him away, apparently expecting him to pull another miracle.

"No way to tell."

"What do you mean 'no way to tell," said an angry voice. "He's not breathing, he's dead! We shouldn't have bothered with this stupid sport!"

A few people started to cry and the entire crowd surrounding Uder suddenly stepped several feet away, taking Harry with them. It seemed as if they couldn't bear to look at Uder. Harry agreed.

"You knew there were risks," said a different voice, sounding very impatient. "And you agreed to it..."

A few people turned to look at Harry and he looked back into their desperate eyes. He didn't bother asking what they were looking at him for. He well knew, but there wasn't a thing to be done. He took one last look at Uder -- and noticed something.

"Wait a minute," said Harry suddenly. "He IS breathing!"

The people looking at Harry turned their gaze to Uder whose chest which, quite miraculously, was moving up and down. One witch who was Uder's mom, apparent by the way she had been crying, said thickly, "Bless him! He's alive!"

"Let's not ask how," someone said.

"Good, because I don't think anyone's going to answer it," said a witch.

"Oh hush, all of you. Clearly, he wasn't dead. He just stopped breathing for a bit, that's all."

"Yes, come on, dear," someone said to the witch who thought no one could find an answer. "Potter, here, survived a fifty foot drop as well."

In his third year at Hogwarts, Harry had fallen off his broom from fifty feet in the air, having passed out from nearby dementors. He had survived, partly because Dumbledore had slowed Harry's fall... Their terrible power, the dementors, was to drain any nearby human of happy thoughts, causing them to drown in their own despair and sorrow, leaving them with nothing but the bad. Leave them with a wizard or witch long enough and they drain you of your powers. As Harry has had awful horrors in his past, the dementors' power overwhelmed him time and time again, causing him to faint, listening to the last moments of his screaming parents. For a split second, he was forcefully reminded of his recurring dream.

Shaking his head to get rid of the nasty reminder, Harry picked up the Staff of Cybele from Uder's side and went over to Mr. Stone who was calling his team over.

"Okay, you've done a great job so far," he was saying, trying to insert the usual happy and boyish tone in his voice, "but unless someone doesn't catch the Spiked Snitch soon, we'll be playing well into tomorrow morning..."

Harry, still shaken by Uder's even closer near death experience (as was everyone else) nodded shortly and in ten minutes, one Mitch Shachner replacing Jeff Uder, Harry was back in the air, circling a small area to keep himself awake.

Shachner, while proving to be far nicer, also proved to be a better Seeker and Harry was tearing after him while the score remained stagnant for the past fifteen minutes (Gregory and Madelyn were increasingly aggressive, using the Bludgers, not to hit, but to divert). Not wanting to have a repeat of his last experience, Harry pointed his wand at the Spiked Snitch in front of Shachner and muttered, "Furcilla Leviosa," hoping it would work without him shouting it.

And it did, Shachner turning around at Harry, who smirked back, to see who had done it. Just then, the four Bludgers caught up with Shachner, and, unfortunately all four of them were headed straight towards Harry. He plunged several feet down to avoid getting the blunt end of all of them at once and suffering a fate far worse than Oliver's.

The Bludgers seemed to think Harry was after the Snitch as they turned around in perfect harmony and came pelting after him once again. Harry stuck his wand out and absolutely thundered "DRACONUS ICICLIA!" so loud that Shachner swerved.

A small tuft of frost erupted from the tip of Harry's wand and formed into a dragon made up entirely of ice. Harry would have been shocked and frightened that it was a full size dragon, some fifty feet tall, it's arms as thick as small glaciers, if he wasn't so anxious about finding out whether it would work to stop the Bludgers.

It gritted it's icicle fangs dangerously and grinned, looking like some sort of insanely happy demon. The powerful tail protruding from it's end was stretched out the full seventy feet and wagging merrily. Harry did take note of the claws on it's thick, muscular (if that were possible for a creature made of ice) hands that were as long as knives and probably sharper and he caught a small glimpse of the teeth in it's jaw and didn't scream. This last bit was surprising considering the front two were as big as his head and as thick as his leg -- he was too into the game to care.

With one last grin of self-satisfaction at it's master, the dragon sent itself speeding towards the Bludgers and did a spectacular three-sixty in mid air. It's enormous wings smashed into the all of Bludgers at once, turning them into blocks of ice upon contact like liquid nitrogen to any other substance. The Bludgers went crashing to the ground and exploded, raining the ground with bits of ice. The terribly large ice dragon gave a deafening roar, mocking the feeble Bludgers and then exploded into a million flakes of snow. It's force so large, the dragon so big that the snowflakes reached every inch of the Fire Quidditch field. It looked like it had just snowed for a few minutes.

Satisfied and not letting anything sink in yet, Harry turned his attention to Shachner who was gaining on the Spike-less Snitch, apparently not bothered by a dragon screaming in his ear. Harry charged forward, slapped Shachner's hand out of the way and --

"POTTER CATCHES THE SECOND SPIKED SNITCH!" roared Bagman to tumultuous applause from England supporters and ravenous boos from the United States crowd. Harry distinctly saw someone fly over to Shachner and smack him on the head. "SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY TO SIX HUNDRED AND FOURTY! ENGLAND WINS! OH, I SAY!"

Floating there, Shachner in a rage of fury, Harry took the precious few seconds before anyone had came flying towards him to let it all sink in. Oliver and Uder were alive, he had won the game and the fiery Bludgers had been exploded with a spectacular ice dragon spell; all of it worthy of the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Harry couldn't see, but Cho's face was glowing with admiration. He was sure, regardless of being able to see or not, that it was. Likewise, Ron and Hermione were jumping up and down, clapping and yelling themselves hoarse.

"I don't fancy telling them to stop celebrating," Bagman whispered, grinning, to Dumbledore as the England team slowly bumped one by one into their victorious Seeker.

Dumbledore, who had been sitting in the Top Box, a block of seats centered in the field, with the Weasleys, raised an eyebrow, cocked his head and gave Mr. Weasley a grin that clearly said, "he's right, you know."

"They'll be talking about this game for years," Mr. Weasley said.

Percy Weasley drew a deep breath, raised both his eyebrows and let out a superior-sounding sigh, his chin in the air, trying to look as grave as possible. "Ah, you know Penelope didn't want to bother betting this time," he said, speaking of his girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater.

"Wonder why," Ron whispered in Hermione's ear as Mr. Weasley ushered them down the steps to get to Harry. He could only guess that his ambitious brother was thinking of betting against his girlfriend to win some money.

Mr. Stone had taken his team over to the United States team, the other team manager bringing his to Mr. Stone's, for a hand-shake, presumably so they wouldn't feel like hexing each other next year. La Grange's handshake was very harsh and she was eyeing the blood stains on Harry's forearm and chest. She seemed to like the idea that he got hurt, though didn't voice it and, all the same, Harry kept his opinion quiet that she should have been his ice dragon's target. Well, either her or Uder, it didn't really matter.

During this, about ten wizards were cleaning up the mess of Bludgers Harry had made (they couldn't repair them) and fixing the Spiked Snitches, sticking them back into the box, not spinning and harmless. The Quaffle was quite an easy matter as it's only magic was to gain speed while flying in the air. Finally, after exchanging many not-so-friendly glances and handshakes, the two teams separated and left the field, the stands still clearing out. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione and Sirius strode over to Harry at once, a look of utter awe on Ron's face. Ron's only words were "nice" and "dragon."

"You're okay, right?" said Mrs. Weasley, seizing Harry's bloodied arm at once and examining it.

"Yes," replied Harry. "If this thing can heal burns, it can heal small cuts," he added, referring to the Phoenix Bracelet.

"Well, get changed then as soon as we get back to the tent. It's starting to smell."

Every inch of him was still bursting with excitement when the sky had turned black as ink and Ginny was still going over and over Harry's ice dragon with a speechless Ron. Ron thought the ice dragon so cool that he hadn't said a single word, an expression of awe on his face for the past half hour.

"Ron, your face is going to stick like that," said Mrs. Weasley irritably.

"I don't think he minds," said Fred.

"It was just a spell, dear."

Ron's face finally changed. "Harry -- bloody hell!" he said, still amazed.

Harry couldn't help it. He grinned back.

"We all agree it was a spectacular ice dragon now will you please go to bed?" said Mrs. Weasley, still sounding irritated. "It's nearly two in the morning!"

"Oh come on, mom," Ron said pleadingly back. "I don't think anyone has gone to sleep yet!"

"He's right, Molly," Sirius said, peering out of the tent.

Every England supporter had been bellowing, screaming, singing and laughing ever since the game had ended and salesmen were now coming around all of the tents, selling miniature ice dragons and, to Harry's great displeasure, Fred and George's miniature Harry models. These had been modified, of course, having a small Spiked Snitch stuck in an outstretched, closed fist.

"No," Harry had said firmly when a salesman had Apparated at their tent a few minutes later and tried to sell Harry a model of himself ("Better than an autograph!").

A few minutes after that, a wizard Harry had never met before came striding to the tent and asked Harry if he would let his lightning dragon duel with Harry's ice dragon. Harry didn't know what to say and so he turned to Sirius for an answer without thinking, like a son would to a father. Sirius noticed this and nodded, as he would have anyway.

Perhaps it was the spur of the moment during the game, but when Harry tried to conjure his most excellent ice dragon again, he only managed to get one twelve feet in height and not the most glorious fifty-footer from hours earlier. Both of them conjured their dragons high above the tents for all to see and a small crowd had moved closer to them, many people leaving their tents to get a better look to see the fabulous air fight. Both dragons put up a good duel and despite the fact that Harry's dragon was so much smaller, it was able to move around much more quickly, dodging and taunting it's fifty foot opponent. Bill, Charlie and Ron were cheering Harry on the entire time.

The unknown wizard then looked sourly at Harry as one well-placed lightning bolt from his fifty foot lightning dragon struck Harry's horribly frightened ice dragon between it's eyes and shattered it. Raides had scrambled to her feet at his words ("I expected better...") and growled at him. Having a sudden idea, she transformed into the Staff of Cybele and suggested Harry use her instead of his wand. Fully knowing he was going to lose, the wizard agreed to another try and this time Harry had managed to conjure a dragon so huge, it sent the unknown wizard's lightning dragon screaming and several people had shrieked.

It was over three hundred feet in height. Ron didn't speak for fifteen minutes. Ginny fainted. Then, the roar it made before it exploded, making the moor look like it probably did after a blizzard, made everyone clamp their hands over their ears and that still didn't help. Hermione's glass of water had shattered. Mr. Weasley was extra glad the Ministry of Magic placed Invisibility and Noise Charms over the area for a Muggle would surely notice a dragon of that stature or a roar that loud.

Raides transformed back into the golden and scarlet lion, still chuckling merrily and Ron was now goggling even more at Harry, who didn't think that look would ever leave Ron's face until morning. The unknown wizard looked for a minute like he was going to introduce himself but decided to save himself the embarrassment and stalked away. Ron looked desperately at Raides with a please-let-me-try look in his eye but she looked gravely back at him, her eyes narrowed not unlike Mrs. Weasley's. She told him that she could vaguely remember that the only time she had let a non-ancient use her, she ended up destroying an entire town. As much as she trusted Ron, she had been enchanted to kill anyone who tries to cast a spell with her who's not an ancient. Ron finally desisted.