Harry Potter and the Chains that Bind

Chapter 10 - Broomsticks, Potions, and Mysterious Witches

Though it had been overcast and hazy, the day of October 11^th was un-seasonably warm. Quidditch practice had been long and frustrating with all the formations and numbers that Katie had been shouting, and no one could think of anything else. Harry was thankful that he was a Seeker, and not really involved in position plays.

Neville was sitting in the common room reading a letter when Harry returned, and one look at Harry's face and his slow, pained movement prompted the erstwhile medi-wizard to sprint to the sixth-years' dormitory. He returned a minute later with several strips of cloth.

"Try these out, and see what they do." Harry hesitantly wrapped one of the bandages around his throbbing right wrist, a souvenir of a one-handed climb that he was now regretting. Immediately, the pain subsided.

"These are pretty handy, mate. What are they?"

"Murtlap. Dean turned me onto it....said you'd been using it last year and he'd gone through a bunch as well. He told me I should find a way to get it so you wouldn't have to soak in the stuff and, well, this is what I've got."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said. "Mind if I hold onto a few for the rest of the team?"

"No! I've got loads more. Making them is good practice." Neville returned with a small pile and dropped them on their usual table near the window. He returned to his chair and resumed reading his letter, which looked to be very long indeed.

"What've you got there?" Harry asked, eyeing the page that Neville was reading. The letters were full of little loops and curls, and it looked very feminine.

"It's from my pen pal, Consera. She's found some use for your Ghost Plant, and sent a potion recipe."

"Does it look interesting?" Harry asked, though he wasn't exceptionally interested in potions; not any more than he had to be to do well in the class, and he'd asked mostly to be polite.

"Oh, yes! She said she doesn't know exactly what it does, because she's not sure it's even authentic. It's supposed to have come from the Aztecs, and she's not entirely sure she translated it properly. She suggests that our potions master give it a once over."

"Yeah," Harry said, "that'll happen. Maybe Hermione can do it."

"I dunno," Neville said. "Snape is really mean, but he knows his stuff. I'd hate to suck something down that'd kill me! There're a lot of dangerous ingredients...silverleaf nightshade, and obsidian...and leopard's bane...I don't even have any of that. Maybe Connor does."

"I guess," Harry replied. He had to deal with Snape three times a week already, and that was enough. Suddenly, movement outside caught his eye. Connor was walking towards Hagrid's cottage. Harry watched him; his long, easy lope covered ground quickly. Moments later, Dean Thomas followed. Harry was torn - on the one hand, he didn't think Connor would cause problems for Dean unless he was pressed. Even Malfoy was relatively safe until he started causing problems. On the other hand, Dean didn't like Connor, and Harry thought it possible that Dean would be all too willing to press him. He wanted to think they were grown-up enough to sort out their differences, but given the chance, he wouldn't bet on it. Harry didn't mind Malfoy getting knocked around, but he'd rather not see Dean and Connor go at it.

On the other hand, what could he do, other than delay the inevitable? Perhaps the best thing was to let things take their course. If he was a Prefect, he'd have to stop them from fighting, but he wasn't. Let Ron and Hermione make the tough decisions.

He had no sooner thought of Ron and Hermione when they arrived, bickering, as usual.

"I'm telling you I've taken everything important down...I'm really making a change this year!"

"In that case you shouldn't need mine for any reason!"

"Well, there's no need to get hasty...we all make some mistakes every now and then."

It was all Harry could do to keep himself too busy to think of Hermione constantly. The worst part was he couldn't talk to the people he normally talked to, because it was normally her or Ron. He slipped up to the dormitory before they could talk to him, and lay in his bed, reading The Light Side of Dark Magic.

When he woke up the next morning, Harry noticed that half of the beds were empty. Connor, Dean, and Neville were all gone. He could see Seamus's foot sticking out where his head should be, and Ron was snoring like a motorbike. He had a lot of homework that he could be doing, but if the weather was going to be as nice as yesterday, he wasn't going to hang around inside. Perhaps he'd go visit Hagrid; he hadn't done that in a while.

When Harry was within a few hundred yards of Hagrid's hut, he saw something very odd. A small figure, it looked to be Natalie MacDonald, was doing keeper drills. She would skyrocket vertically while facing forward, and then go into a series of horizontal and vertical slides, moving the broom left and right, up and down, and diagonally without going forward or backwards. When he got closer, he saw that it wasn't her Silver Arrow. Harry stopped and watched, curiously. She'd do the keeper drill for a few moments, then fly to the ground out of sight behind Hagrid's hut, only to re-appear a few moments later to redo the drill.

"What's up, Natalie?" Harry yelled. She flew to him, moving sideways instead of forward. It was impressive, both from the broom and rider.

"Hello, Harry! Nice day for some flying, hey?"

"It sure is. Not flying the Arrow, I see?"

"Not today."

Harry looked around to make sure they were alone.

"What are you doing way out there? Working on some keeper moves?"

"Well," she said innocently, "you never know when you'll need to move into an unfamiliar part! And I just sort-of wanted to be away from prying eyes; you know, strategy, and all."

"And I'm sure you're not doing anything to that broom that some people would find objectionable?"

"Of course not! Nothing at all!"

"Well, you may want to make sure that Hermione doesn't see you doing nothing. You know how she can be. And did you know," Harry added, glancing at Natalie's robes, "that you have a dirty handprint in the middle of your back?"

"I do?"

"You do. A big one, too."

"I ah...I don't really know what that is. Say, I'm going to go fly a little closer to the pitch...I think I might be done with drills today. Want to come?"

"Perhaps, in a bit," he replied. "For now; just keep away from Hermione."

Part of Harry wanted to see the interesting predicament that would result from Hermione catching Natalie with what he was nearly positive was Ron's broom. Her warning to Natalie and Ron was still fresh in Harry's head, so another part of him feared seeing something he'd regret.

Just then, Hagrid rumbled around the corner of his hut and saw him.

"Harry!" To Harry's great surprise, Hagrid broke into a jog, catching up with him almost immediately. "What are you up to, Harry?"

"Well, I thought that I'd stop and visit you, to see what I'm missing in Magical Creatures."

"Ah, funny you should say that. I've got some juvenile manticores back there; quite a rough time for them...they're a bit irritable, if you know what I mean...angsty and full o' tragedy, that lot. Best be staying out front!"

Harry remembered the blast-ended skrewts, and he was silently thankful that Hagrid had given him a graceful way out of visiting the manticores. Normally, Hagrid would have been pushing to get Harry to visit his "cuddly" and often "misunderstood" friends. Today, they walked together towards the hut and chatted idly of magical creatures, D.A., and Gryffindor's chances of taking the Quidditch Cup. For almost an hour, they sat in Hagrid's hut. The gamekeeper seemed on edge, but then so would Harry, if he had a group of juvenile manticores in his back yard. He tried to catch a glimpse of them, but all he could see was a pile of greasy rags and a few boxes. Finally, Harry excused himself, and headed back to the castle. Before he'd gotten a hundred yards, he summoned his Firebolt.

It really was too nice to go inside, and perhaps Natalie wanted some company in testing the broom that she obviously wasn't modifying.

When he got back to the Common Room, Harry found Ron engaged in another game of Wizard's Chess, this time with Hermione.

"Since when did you play wizard's chess?" Harry asked her.

"Professor Walken told me it would help with causality. He said he was thinking about making it an assignment."

"What kind of luck are you having?" he asked, already knowing. Ron was an outstanding chess player.

"He's letting me win," she said, "so I'm doing fairly well." The look on Ron's face said that he wasn't allowing anything, but that he wasn't about to correct her.

"Well, that's what you get from Ron. Too good for his own good, I say." Harry wandered up to the dormitory, where Connor and Neville were picking through a small jungle on Neville's bureau. They must have brought some plants up from the greenhouses, because there weren't nearly as many earlier that morning.

"Really, none of that should be too hard to get," Connor was saying. "You've got the Ghost Plant. The rest we ought to be able to come up with here or order. I have licorice and hawthorn, the greenhouse has belladonna, blackberry, rowan, and ivy, and we can order the Leopard's Bane and obsidian, if no one has any. You should probably order the obsidian pre-crushed, since it's a genuine pain in the can to crush yourself. It's harder than nearly everything but diamonds, did you know? When is Snape going to get back to you on what it does?"

"I don't know," Neville replied. "He sure didn't seem happy that I asked. It's a good thing that you can't get addicted to cheering charms, because I've been going through them like candy in that class." Both Connor and Harry laughed at that. It was easy to laugh about potions while you weren't there.

All too soon, the next Thursday, they were sitting in potions, listening to Snape lecture.

"Today, we are going to discuss your year-long projects. As you may be aware, education following your O.W.L.s is designed to focus your abilities, and as such, you are expected to move from general magic, which is what you have learned so far, into more specific magic, which is how some of you will spend the rest of your lives." Snape paused in front of Neville, who did his best to look the Professor in the eyes.

"For some of you, that is unfortunate news indeed." He continued pacing the class, ignoring the Gryffindors completely and pausing in front of the Slytherins. "For others, this means honing your already existing skills." Draco and the other Slytherins sat up proudly.

"If you insist on being in my way," Snape again glared at Neville, and then passed his gaze over Harry, Hermione, Connor, and the rest of the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs, "you will pay meticulous attention to what I am about to say:

"If you fail in this endeavor, you will not return to my class, regardless of who you know or what you do."

Neville anxiously continued to write, and Harry felt sure that it was more to keep him from thinking too much than to record anything. He wondered if Neville would make it through potions...his friend had noble intentions, but he'd never done that well in Snape's class. Perhaps he shouldn't have come after all. On the other hand, Neville had made a new batch of his eyesight improving potion since school had started, and Harry hadn't noticed a difference between it and the first batch; he thought it might even be working. Perhaps Connor would be able to help him - the large American was somewhat less intimidated by Snape than many of the other students - probably because he didn't share five years of miserable experiences with the rest of Hogwarts' students. The Professor went on, flicking his wand at the board in the front of the room, where writing appeared.

"You will create a potion we haven't yet studied as a class. There will be no variations of the potions we have already studied unless I approve them. There must be at least three distinctly separate stages in the brewing process. You will begin work on the potions after the winter break, doing all work in class. If you must do out-of-class work, you must have it approved by me and there had better be a very good reason. You will also submit a report detailing each component and step in the creation of the potion: what it does, how it is prepared, and what the consequences of its misuse would be. This report will be at least sixty inches in length."

Snape paused in front of Harry, and stared directly at him, his dark eyes burning. "Notice that is the minimum. The surest way for you to fail this project is to underachieve. For some of you, this is not a choice." The Slytherins laughed again, and Harry felt his ears burning with rage. How he hated Snape!

"Consider yourselves warned. Today we are looking at puratives. Who can give me an example? Granger, you are in insufferable know-it-all; put your hand down. Longbottom?" Neville hadn't raised his hand and clearly looked terrified.

"Er...Snake Root?" The Slytherins burst into laughter and Snape sneered at Neville.

"Next time, Longbottom, try to stay within a thousand miles." As soon as Snape turned away, Neville looked to Harry.

"He didn't take points away!" The smile on his face was genuine, and the feeling spread to many of the other students by the end of the lesson. After they were dismissed for the day, Snape called out.

"Longbottom! I need to discuss your ineptitude in further depth." Draco and his cronies laughed but continued on, apparently having had enough of the after-class altercations with Gryffindors, for the moment. "Colier! This concerns you as well, since you've taken on the unenviable task of caring for Longbottom's safety." That wasn't entirely true. He did pay attention to what Neville was doing, but that was because they'd hit it off well and paired off when they got to choose, and he didn't want to get blown up any more than Harry, Hermione, or any other student did. Harry waited for Neville at the door, half expecting Snape to toss him out of the room. Instead, the professor simply ignored him. Harry only caught parts of the conversation, but he heard the words "Aztec" and "mulberry". On their way to Defense, Neville explained.

"He wanted to know where I'd got the recipe, and so I told him that it was from the Aztecs. He told me that they performed quite a lot of human sacrifice, and that something more may be needed in the potion."

"Don't forget this," Connor said, handing Neville a piece of parchment.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"It's a recipe for a ghost repelling potion. Professor Snape said that he wasn't sure what the potion would do, and to drink that first, so you don't run into problems."

"He helped you?"

"I know," Connor said dryly, "you may have to hold me while I faint."

On Saturday, Harry was called to the headmaster's office. At first glance, he thought the long-haired figure standing next to the headmaster was Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius. Then, when he got closer, he saw that he had the wrong Malfoy. Narcissa sneered derisively as Harry entered.

"Ah, Mister Potter. This will only take a moment. Mrs. Malfoy was simply enquiring about one of our student clubs here at the school. It seems-"

"What right have you to keep my son from a school sponsored activity, Potter? As if you haven't spread your filth enough, now you have to try to exclude him from that which isn't yours?"

"Actually, Narcissa, the particular club in question is Mister Potter's; at least in part."

"And how could that little...whelp possibly run any kind of wizarding club on his own? He's not even a proper wizard!"

"Mrs. Malfoy, whatever your feelings, I must insist that you treat all students with respect while you are within these walls."

"I'll treat him with the respect he's due." Narcissa said haughtily. Professor Dumbledore rose to his full height, and suddenly looked very intimidating indeed.

"I am afraid that is not a request, Narcissa."

"My friends will have something to say about that!"

"Doubtless they will, Narcissa." Then before she could interrupt, the headmaster continued. "Now, as I was saying, D.A. is a club started by some of the students to assist them in their learning of the defense against dark arts. It is not a school-sponsored activity, and therefore I have no power over who they let in or keep out, and neither do you."

"You don't fool me, Dumbledore. Last year, you tried to call them your army!"

"Ah, but as you see, I no longer need an army, now that people are aware of Voldemort's return," he paused thoughtfully, stroking his beard, "as doubtless you have discovered."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she said, indignantly. Harry could think of at least two ways to take that, and he wasn't exceptionally quick on the uptake. Dumbledore ignored her and turned to Harry.

"Mister Potter, I didn't mean to interrupt your day. I summoned you to answer a few questions for Mrs. Malfoy. Has the school endorsed your club in any way?"

"No," Harry replied.

"Have we provided resources, other than a room, in an official capacity?" Harry supposed "in an official capacity" ruled out Kingsley's work with him.

"No, sir."

"Have we enlisted any professors to assist you? Have we forced you to allow or disallow any students from attending?"

"No, sir."

"Are there others in your group who have invited students to attend?"

"Of course!"

"And should one of them invite Mister Malfoy, you'd allow him in?"

"Well, if one of them invited him, yes. I never will."

"And do you have a reason for not inviting Mister Malfoy?"

"Yes." Harry paused. It was obvious that Professor Dumbledore was doing his best to be civil, so he bit back what he was originally going to say. Instead of "because he's a tremendous git," he settled for "he has a poor attitude regarding most of the other students."

"There you have it." Dumbledore said, turning to Narcissa with a satisfied look on his face. "Mrs. Malfoy, it is apparent to me, and by now it should be apparent to you, that Harry and his friends have sole discretion over what occurs in their club. Perhaps Draco should concentrate upon impressing those who can invite him to become one of their number?"

"You haven't heard the last of me, Dumbledore," Narcissa threatened, spinning and heading for the door.

"Oh, I'm quite certain of that. Do feel free to tell your husband hello." There was a gleam in the old man's eyes as he smiled crookedly. After she'd gone, Dumbledore sat at his desk.

"I really didn't need for you to get involved, Harry. I simply wanted you to see that you need not subject yourself to anyone's will, no matter how imperious or important they may seem, good or bad."

"Thank you, sir."

"I know you may...resent some of the decisions I've made, and I know you may resent what you see as my interference in your life." Dumbledore paused, perhaps waiting for Harry to interject. When he didn't, the Headmaster continued. "Please understand that I would ask nothing of you that I didn't feel was absolutely in your best interests, but that by no means makes my desires mandates." He paused again, and Harry remained silent, wondering if this was an attempt to address last year's outbreak after the Battle of the Ministry, or the Occlumency lessons, or perhaps simply to correct the general impression that Dumbledore was controlling his life. Harry had occasionally felt that other people were controlling his life - pulling his strings - but more often than not it seemed as if fate, or the world, or some God had slighted him, and not Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster had upset him, at times infuriated him, but generally Harry was happy there was someone around who seemed to know what was going on.

"It's okay, sir," he said finally, "I understand. I'm okay." This time Harry paused, and after a moment of reflection added, "...so far." Dumbledore nodded, tilted his head, and favored Harry with the hint of a bemused smile.

"Out of curiosity, if one of your friends invited Mister Malfoy to a meeting, would you allow him?"

"Sure. But after what Hermione did to Marietta Edgecombe, would you?"

"Considering that, it is a good thing the decision is not mine to make." The old man smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"I've been meaning to ask you something, sir."

"Of course."

"It's just that...well, there's Quidditch, and it's not that I don't want to play this year, but..."

"You are wondering why we continue with such frivolities at a time like this?" Harry nodded. "The answer is difficult to grasp in its simplicity - Most of life is mundane. Just think of all of your most cherished memories, and consider how many of them came as a result of trivial or idle pursuits. If we allow Voldemort to take away the small pleasures in our lives, what comes next?" Harry didn't answer, and the Headmaster continued. "People become frustrated. Eventually, their frustration leads to anger, and to conflict, and then from conflict to disunity. We would, in the end, be serving Voldemort's cause. Though we need to be ever-vigilant at a time like this, we need these small escapes now more than ever. We need to not only want to save lives, but we want to make those lives worth living. There are those who are willing to sacrifice everything at a time like this, but often times they give too much. They save lives at the expense of living. Do you understand, Harry?"

"I suppose so, yes. It makes me feel a bit better about playing, then, knowing that perhaps I'll keep people positive for a bit."

"And that, Harry, is one of the many things I dearly love about you. Rarely have I met someone so unselfish." Harry blushed because he felt the Headmaster was embellishing the truth. At times he'd been justifiably selfish. "And that reminds me," Professor Dumbledore continued, "I have entertained notions of resuming an old tradition. Tell me, how would you feel about another Yule Ball? The year of the tournament was the first we've had in quite some time, and I thought it was quite well received." Harry cringed when he thought of the fiasco that had occurred at the Ball.

"After the last one, I don't know if anyone in their right mind would go with me." Dumbledore smirked as he peered over his glasses.

"Perhaps we shall see. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"

"I think I'm good, sir," Harry replied, nervously entertaining thoughts of Hermione and another Yule ball. Only one word could possibly describe such an opportunity, and that word was disaster.

For a while, nothing new came from Voldemort, no one got in fights, and life seemed about as normal as it ever would. Quidditch practice stepped up, and they were now less than a week from their first match. Katie had N.E.W.T.s this year, but still spent a lot of time working out Quidditch details. She was able to multi-task well, and Harry had seen places in her notes where she hurriedly scribbled in a note of strategy, or sketched a diagram of a new Red Formation. Every practice night they came back to the dormitories dead tired, and often they could think of little else but sleep. Twice more, Harry saw Dean follow Connor, but neither showed up with anything broken or missing, so he didn't think anything further of it. On Friday night, Harry fell asleep on one of the sofas in the common room. This had been happening more and more frequently, as he took to reading late on the weekends, and sometimes didn't get around to his Occlumency exercises, which he did before he went to sleep during the week. More than once he'd awoke at three or four in the morning to wander blearily up to the dormitory and his waiting bed.

This time, when Harry drowsily opened his eyes, he heard something behind him. Quickly, and as quietly as he could, he pulled his wand from his pocket. A book was lying on his lap, and his hand and wand were under it. The common room was dark at this hour, and the figure slipping through it was little more than a shadow.

"Parvati?" The shadow jumped.

"Oh! Hello, Harry...I didn't see you there. Bit late, isn't it?"

"I could say the same thing to you," Harry said. "What are you doing wandering around at..." He paused and looked at his watch. "...at 3:35 in the morning?"

"I was in the astronomy tower, if you must know."

"Oh really?" Parvati must have seen the look on his face, because she spun on him with her hands on her hips, looking for just a moment like Hermione when she was about to lecture.

"Doing Astronomy! Not everyone is there on a snogging mission, you know. It just so happens that the sky is very clear tonight, and that Mars is..."

Harry dropped his wand before she saw it, and raised his hands in submission, and Parvati laughed. It wasn't her normal giggle, which, between Lavender and her could get fairly annoying, but a true laugh. It sounded quite nice.

"And what are you doing down here? Problems?"

"No more than usual," Harry said. "You know how it goes. Dark Wizards, and the like."

"Of course. Well, goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Parvati."

Parvati slipped through the door that led to the girls' dormitories, and Harry gathered up his books and wand and made his way back to his own bed. After his talk with Parvati, he was somewhat anxious, so he did his Occlumency exercises until he drifted back to sleep. He couldn't yet clear his mind, but he found that filling it with junk would often bore him to sleep.

Parvati was correct; Friday was clear, and thus Saturday was cold. They had only two more practices until their first match, so Ron and others had stayed for a pick-up match. Natalie, their newest Chaser, had moved to Seeker for this game. Emer Rath, a reserve Chaser, and the Creevey brothers, who were tentatively slated to be their starting beaters, were also chasers. Sloper and Kirke filled in as beaters. They had performed admirably as replacements for the Weasley brothers last year, but were obviously more replacement caliber than everyday players, so they voluntarily placed themselves on reserve, to Katie's great relief.

Against them, various students were playing for a team anchored by Seamus as Keeper and Ginny and Katie Bell as Chasers. Harry would play Seeker one of every few games. He felt that he was as ready as he was going to be for the match with Slytherin.

At first, Katie had filled their practices with standard drills, over and over, and sometimes it felt as if Harry could fall into position with his eyes closed, which was of course exactly what was supposed to happen. Later, they'd done the same thing with more complex formations. The Creevey brothers had a unique style of play; neither was very large, and Dennis was actually a bit small. To overcome that, they'd adopted a style of play made famous by the Holyhead Harpies, who'd often had beaters that weren't as big and strong as those of the competition.

One Creevey, usually Dennis, because he was more agile and able to get into position faster, would hit the bludger first, aiming it and putting a good charge into it. Colin, who was bigger and stronger than his brother, would hit it again as it flew by, adding velocity and adjusting its direction, if necessary. It was certainly impressive to watch, and Harry was quite awed at how coordinated they were. They took the style to the enemy players as well, often "stealing" their Bludger and redirecting it at their convenience with a light tap or shifted bat, which was guaranteed to infuriate and frustrate opposing teams. The only negative aspect Harry saw so far was that unlike the Weasleys, who had an aggressive, charging style, sometimes the Creeveys had difficulties with Bludgers hit directly towards them. With the Slytherin team, which contained two stupid but large and powerful beaters, that could prove to be a problem, but they'd deal with that when they got there. If worse came to worse, Harry thought, Sloper and Kirke were larger than the Creeveys, and might hold their own against Crabbe and Goyle. The problem with that happening was even thought the Creeveys were from a Muggle family, they were very fast and fairly good fliers. Sloper and Kirke were considerably slower, and since Katie didn't want the effectiveness of the very quick chasers to be limited by slow beaters, she had invested a lot of time in the Creeveys, polishing them as best she could. Privately, Harry felt that alone, neither of them would have made it on the team, but they knew each other so well it was like having one player on two separate brooms. Perhaps that was one aspect that had made the Weasleys so effective. It seemed that Katie wanted to believe that they could make it work, but also that she wanted to see them in action.

Ron looked even better than he had at the end of last year, and Harry's sole hope for him was that his head didn't get too large to fit through the scoring rings. He felt that was entirely possible, and Ron was already nearly insufferable at times. Vicky Frobisher had tried out again, but since she still maintained that she would ditch Quidditch should a conflict arise, Katie didn't give her a second look for the team. Vicky did mention that she'd be happy to help with practices, which was quite polite of her. Seamus Finnigan turned out to be a good enough Keeper and Chaser to be named to their reserve squad for both, though he was a bit slower than the three starting Chasers, so if he saw time it would probably be at Keeper. Katie left a few positions on their reserve team unfilled. She explained that she felt the team as it stood now, with Rath, Finnigan, Sloper, and Kirke on reserve, had plenty of depth because they could rotate positions and maintain the same team. She liked their flexibility; they wouldn't have to worry about getting team practice in for so many players, and theoretically, she argued, it would keep their team chemistry better. Harry could see the advantages right away, but the real test would be whether they handled Slytherin well in only a few days.

During a break, they assembled into their full starting squad, and ran through what would be their last full practice before the match. Katie shouted directions as the team swooped like fighter pilots in formation.

"Good! Nat, you have to drop below me when we do this! Dennis, cover the blind side! That's right, drop back! Red One, Gold Thirty-Two." Katie's voice was hoarse from yelling, but she never stopped barking instructions, even through one marathon that had seen them on their brooms for nearly six hours. They'd mastered falling in and out of what Katie wanted them to think of as their "standard" formation, something she had begun calling Red One. The formations were all numbered and labeled as "Red," while those plays which were called on the fly were "Gold". Each position player had a number, which, once actual play commenced, would change before each game. The numbers Katie called on a gold play were the players who were supposed to take the shot and the next go-to player, if the first had none. The first time Katie had explained it, the entire team had groaned in exasperation. In the following weeks, they'd discovered it was actually a very good plan, and no one complained anymore.

Ron and Harry, having little part in the position plays, had stationary numbers. Ron was always six, and Harry seven. Katie promised they'd be involved in at least a few gimmick plays, but for the time being Harry was happy enough to be the Seeker, and he was pretty sure Ron felt the same way as Keeper.

So far, the team had mastered three Red formations beyond Red One, two of which were simply renamed hawk's head and diamond formations, and was making significant progress on fine-tuning the teamwork behind the golds.

"Red Thirty-One! Red Thirty-One!" Red Three had the chasers in a diamond formation, with the lead position taken by Dennis Creevey. Colin flew directly to the right of his brother, in front of and to the right of Katie Bell, who as the best Chaser was the right point of the diamond. Ginny was the rear point of the diamond, and Natalie MacDonald, who could use her left hand nearly as well as her right, was the left point. Red Thirty-One had player number one - today it was Natalie - drop below and behind the formation. If Katie wanted to swap players' positions for a better match-up, she'd call the two players' numbers. A Red Three-Twenty-Three was the same formation as a Red Three, except the number two and number three players swapped spots. None of the players seemed to have a problem flying by the numbers, but calling complex Red plays on the fly didn't come easily to anyone but Katie, and surprisingly, Ron.

Of course, once they'd gotten in formation and were actually flying full tilt, calling out anything became next to impossible. It was then that all the practice falling in and out of Red One became immensely valuable.

All in all, Harry felt that they stood a relatively good chance of taking the Quidditch cup, even with a fairly young team.

Sunday, they didn't have practice. It wasn't through lack of trying, though; Slytherin had booked the Quidditch pitch all day. Katie Bell cursed and raved, but it was to no avail. Harry was actually happy to have a day of rest, but he didn't admit it around her. Instead, Ron, Hermione, and he spent a good portion of the day sharing notes for all the classes they had together. Ron was flipping back and forth between pages, and making a list of topics and the pages on which they were covered. He refused to take any note twice, and would actually spend more time and effort in avoiding duplicating notes than it would take to simply write things down again.

"There has got to be an easier way to do this. Hermione, isn't there a way to make these things chain reference, or something?"

"What do you mean, 'chain reference'?"

"Well look! Here I have things about the Spatium Sinus spell, and then where he talks about the Tempus Sinus spell and the Spatium Sinus again. Then later, he talks about the Spatium Tornare and he brings up Spatium Sinus and Tempus Sinus again! There has got to be a way to write everything about them in one place, and then be able to...I don't know, make it all go together."

"You know," Hermione said, "that's not a bad idea. I'm sure there's a way to do it, but I'll have to think about it. Something like Magical Indexes?"

"Sure, something like that. I'm just sick of writing everything down twice."

"You've never written anything down twice," Hermione retorted.

"In fact, most times you don't even write it once," Harry added.

"Ha ha; very funny. I'll have you know I've been studying at least an hour a day this year, sometimes more."

"An hour? Well, that's impressive then!" Hermione jabbed. "Most days, I don't get that much studying in until breakfast." This started another tirade that carried them well into the afternoon.

Monday, Harry had an exam in Muggle Studies. He'd forgotten about it until Sunday night, but fortunately he didn't need to study all that hard for that class. Generally, he only had to pay attention to the places where the wizards were totally off about Muggles. There were still quite a few of those, but not enough to make slacking impossible. Much of the hard work came from catching up with the previous five years, before O.W.L.s.

Because of this, he really didn't have to concentrate much while he took his exam. It was fifteen minutes before he realized that he could smell something exotic - spicy and sweet at the same time. He glanced over to see Parvati had moved very close to him, so close, in fact, that when she got to the edge of her parchment, her arm brushed his. He enjoyed it, but didn't think much of it. Later, after the exam, it occurred to him that she was probably copying his answers. Part of him wanted to be mad, but it was quelled by the part of him that enjoyed the feel of her arm against his and her scent. Some evils, Harry judged, were lesser evils. Besides, Parvati was probably better off cheating on the exams and asking Harry anyway, if she was at all interested in Muggles.

Late Tuesday, Harry, Hermione, and Neville were comparing Potions notes. Ron sat with them, trying to force out a Temporalism essay that was due on Friday, and Ginny had her Care of Magical Creatures book open next to some Quidditch strategies that she'd been toying with. On the paper, small stick figures mounted on brooms chased each other. Occasionally, Ginny would tap one and drag it someplace else, and it would follow, kicking and screaming, to its new home in the formation. Then it would promptly forget about not wanting to move and launch into the new position with gusto. Around the Common Room, others were studying and talking.

"Oh, great," Ron mumbled.

"Oh, no," Ginny added.

"What?" Harry asked, not looking up from his work.

"Dean and Connor," Ron said. "I'm not putting up with anything this time. If they start in, I'm going to move everyone out and let them fight." That got Harry and Hermione's attention, and they both looked up to see Connor and Dean Thomas coming through the portrait hole. Hermione took a deep breath, obviously about to speak, but Harry put his hand on her arm.

Dean and Connor weren't fighting; in fact, they looked to be getting along famously. Connor was laughing and Dean was moving his hands excitedly, obviously in the middle of a story or joke.

"I don't believe it," Ron breathed.

"Me either," Hermione said, "but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"A gift horse..." Ron tried to sort it out in his head. As Connor and Dean stepped up to the table, something moving on the ground outside caught Harry's eye. He peered out the window into the late afternoon gloom.

"Look! There she is again!" Everyone rushed to the window to see the black-haired witch She was again dancing across the lawn, and she must have had some sort of warming charm, because it was still chilly, and she wore only her plaid skirt and a short jacket. This time, she wasn't alone, as a tall, dark-haired man was with her.

"That's Professor Walken," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Sure is, but we didn't really care who he was, did we? I want to know more about her!" Seamus was at the window in a flash, ready to catch another sight of the mystery witch. He'd been quite taken with her the first time they had seen her, and wanted another look.

"I told you she was Scottish. See that tartan?"

"Did anyone find out who she was?" Lavender asked. "I know I tried to find out, and nobody knew anything! I felt like quite the fool, getting looks when I asked who the new student was: 'Who's the new student' I'd ask, and they'd say 'You should know, he's in your house!'"

"I don't know that she's a student," Katie Bell said. "I mean, it's probably not against any rules, but I doubt a student would flirt so much with a professor, or vice versa."

"But I wouldn't mind him looking at me like that!" Lavender said. "What? He's dead sexy!" Parvati was giggling and Hermione flashed Lavender a tired look. Lavender giggled as well. "Oh come off it, Herm...it's not like you weren't ga ga over the Three-Time-Winner-of-Witch-Weekly's 'Most Charming Smile' Professor Lockhart!"

"But everyone was!" Hermione pleaded. "Anyway, he didn't flirt with the students!"

"They aren't flirting!" Seamus said, almost hopefully, as he shielded his eyes with his hands so he could see into the darkness. They were dancing now, hand in hand, as the wind swirled the black-haired witch's hair around her head and Professor Ambrose's cloak around them both. "Well...all right. Maybe they are. Maybe she's not a student then."

The nameless witch took a fleeting look up at the window, as if she knew the Gryffindors were watching her. She shot a dazzling smile and turned back to her dance. Harry thought that he could hear faint singing.

"I'm ready, this time," Ron whispered, bursting into a sprint towards the sixth-year dormitory. He returned a moment later with something Harry hadn't seen in a long time.

"Had mum send them, in case we saw her again!" Seamus recognized the omnioculars immediately, because he'd been to the World Quidditch Cup match several years prior when they'd bought them. "Instant replay," Ron said merrily, as he raised them to his face.

"That's brilliant, is what that is," Seamus remarked. Even Hermione looked somewhat surprised at Ron's quick thinking. They took turns passing around the omnioculars, and all there agreed that the mystery witch was certainly pretty, but that they didn't know her. Ron saved the best looks to replay later at their leisure, and the omnioculars happily informed him that what he was really seeing was not a strange witch that shouldn't even have been at Hogwarts, but rather the 'Nicholas Maneuver'. Even in spite of that, Harry and Ron were very pleased with the night's results, and Seamus was nearly infatuated.

Finally, Professor Walken and the strange witch took their romanticism elsewhere. When the crowd around the window dispersed, Ginny glanced at Dean, who'd put an arm on her shoulder when he stood behind her.

"You're grubby."

"You're pretty," Dean responded, without a pause.

"You should both go somewhere else before I toss." Ron actually looked somewhat ill. Ginny giggled and Dean smiled, punching Ron on the arm, leaving a smudge the size of his fist. Ron scowled at and immediately tried to brush off which only made it worse. Harry took a closer look at Dean. He was indeed grimy, and so was Connor. Whatever pastime Connor had found to keep him perpetually soiled, Dean was now involved. 'Well, that only makes sense,' Harry thought, 'Dean wants to kill Connor, Connor provides a new way to get absolutely filthy, and then Dean doesn't want to kill him anymore.' Or maybe they did fight. Harry was sure he'd hear about it sometime soon, but for now, he wanted to leave well enough alone. He was busy enough without taking on someone else's problems.

Minutes later, long over-due inspiration struck Harry. He had the Marauder's Map, after all; it should tell him who the mystery witch was! He wasn't as infatuated with her as Seamus, or even Ron, but he was curious. He jogged up to the dormitory and retrieved the map from his chest.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good!" The blank parchment filled in with all of the details of the castle and its occupants. Someone came into the dorm, and Harry stuffed the map on top of a stack of other parchment, hoping they didn't notice. It was Ron, and he did notice.

"Ah, I was just coming to ask you about that. Forgot about it, didn't we? What's it say?"

Harry searched for Professor Walken.

"We missed her. He's talking to McGonagall now."

"Blimey. Well, you'll have to be a little faster on it, next time."

"Let me see the omnioculars," Harry asked.

"Seamus has them. I think he's in love."

"In love with a professor's girl friend? Brilliant, that; he'd be lucky to escape being turned into an old gaffer, or a baby."

"My money says he'd just stick Seamus in a bubble for fifty years or so, and call it good."

"I've thought about doing that myself," Harry replied, laughing. The two wandered back to the waiting Common Room, and their best friends in the world.