Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

Chapter One

Harry sighed, pushed his glasses back up his nose, and flopped back into his chair. He had been struggling with his impossible Potions homework for ages now, and he had Quidditch practice in half an hour. He threw his quill on top of his rolls of parchment and then cursed himself as he realised he would have splattered ink all over them.

"Hard homework, Harry?" a soft voice enquired.

"What? Oh, sorry. Yeah. Snape set us a three-foot essay on sleeping draughts. I've still another five inches to go yet," he answered. Pushing his quill off the scroll, he looked at the girl who was speaking. He found that he had to look again. Really, properly look. It was as if he had never seen her before. The firelight playing on her hair sent shadows chasing across her face, and the mouth that smiled at him made him smile back instinctively. It felt good to smile.

"I've done my homework already. We're off outside for a snowball fight later," she said, sliding the books onto the table. She sat down opposite him, waiting for some form of reply. He realised he was still smiling in a very idiotic manner. Trying to hide his discomfort, he pulled his hair away from his face and flinched as some got behind his glasses and into his eyes. He spoke as he did so.

"Yeah, well I'm not as… academically minded as y…" He trailed off, because he wasn't at all sure that she was academically minded even if he wasn't.

"Hermione?" she enquired in an amused voice. Before he could reply, she spoke again. "Ah, speak of the devil! Here she comes now!" Harry glanced across the common room and returned the cheerful wave Hermione sent his way. Ron stumbled after her, muttering something about house elves. He did not appear as cheerful.

"… I mean, you're always complaining about how thin he is, so what's wrong in asking the house elves for a bit of food for him? We've been bef-" Ron was cut off mid stream.

"Hello you two!" Hermione ignored Ron chirpily. He subsided and sank into the seat next to Harry, scowling darkly. Hermione suddenly refocused upon Harry and stared straight at his forehead. Harry became aware of attention from all three people next to him. "Harry, what's that on your head? The blue stuff? You seemed to have it wiped all over you…" Harry put his hand to his head in alarm. First he thought of Fred and George, but they were somewhere else, concocting more pranks, no doubt. Ron began to snigger, and so did Hermione.

She cut in. "Hermione! I was wanting to see how long it was before he noticed!" She tried to stop her laughs escaping, but she wasn't doing a very good job.

"It's ink!" crooned Ron, "you wiped ink on your head!" Harry felt himself turning pink. How had it got there? He remembered splattering ink on his work, and then pushing his hair out of his eyes. It had been there throughout most of the recent conversation.

"I'll… I'd better go wash," he stammered. He fled the room. He was mortified. What would she think of him? When he returned, she had gone. He was half relieved and half disappointed. Ron was sniping away at Hermione again. He interrupted, as if nothing had happened.

"What are you two fighting over this time?" he demanded.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron here was concerned because you missed dinner, and he wanted to ask the House elves to make you up a little snack. I refused. You know the conditions they work in are atrocious! I mean, they don't even-"

"Look, she left her books!" Ron said loudly. Now it was Hermione's turn to sulk.

"Well give them back to her then!" she snapped.

"I can't give them to her, she's gone!" Ron said, as if Hermione was earth shatteringly stupid. Harry knew that was not a good way to talk to Hermione. One, because she wasn't earth shatteringly stupid, and two, because it made her angry.

"Harry, where has she gone?" asked Hermione, forcefully ignoring on again.

"She said she was having a snowball fight later on... she didn't say with who though," he answered.

"Oooh, that's a good idea!" Hermione enthused. "Shall we tag along?" Harry was about to agree, and then remembered he had Quidditch, and five inches of essay to finish before tomorrow. He shook his head miserably. He wasn't looking forward to Quidditch as much as he used to. For one thing, Oliver had left, it was snowing outside and didn't look set to stop, he'd not had any practice last year because of the Triwizard Tournament, and Quidditch... well, it reminded him of Cedric.

"Quidditch," he explained. Ron looked interested.

"When are the tryouts?" he demanded. Harry shrugged.

"Hiya Harry!" a breathy voice interjected. Harry didn't even look away from Ron.

"Hullo, Colin. Are you trying out then, Ron?"

"Of course I am, you -"

"I've got something to tell you, Harry!" squeaked Colin.

"That's nice, Colin. Anyway, I have to go get ready for qu- I mean, finish my homework now, so I'll be off," Harry lied. He knew if he mentioned Quidditch, Colin would only go and sit in the stands. He wouldn't anything but snow in the sky though, because the House Teams were meeting Madam Hooch in the Charms Classroom to discuss tryouts, and the schedule for the year. Fleetingly, Harry considered letting Colin go and wait in the stands, but decided against it.

"

But Harry! Madam Hooch sent me to tell you to go to the Great Hall for the meeting. She says there's a Head of House meeting in the classroom she wanted to use," Colin squealed.

"Oh. Er, thanks for telling me, Colin," Harry said. He packed up his quill, ink, and work, and smiled briefly at Colin. Colin looked as though the highlight of the day had been to find Harry and be thanked by him. Walking briskly to his dormitory, he dumped his belongings on his bed, and then returned to the Common Room. He waved at his friends and then climbed out through the portrait hole.

Before he could dash down the corridor, he realised that his shoelace was undone. With a sigh, he knelt to tie it up again. Just as he was standing up, the Fat Lady called out.

"Watch out below!" It was too late. The portrait swung forwards, clipping him on the back of his head. He was knocked forwards too the floor, and all the air was forced out of his lungs. He heard someone exclaim in shock and dismay, and then a pair of cool hands clasped his and helped him to his feet. He straightened his glasses and rubbed his face, and then checked the back of his head with his fingers. There was a slight bump already, and it was very tender.

"I'm sorry, Harry! Are you ok?" That voice sounded awfully familiar. He felt the blush creeping back up his cheeks before he even started to stammer out an answer.

"I.. yeah.. I'm... thanks. It's ok. No blood, or broken...bones." With a shudder he recalled the end of the Triwizard Tournament. He felt crushed. No matter what, everything always came back to the Tournament, and Cedric's death. He forced himself to smile at Ginny. "I'm fine," he added. It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than her.

"May I ask why you were on the floor?" Her mouth crinkled into a smile. She found the situation funny now she was sure he wasn't injured.

"I was tying my shoelace," he mumbled. He followed Ginny's eyes down to his feet, which suddenly seemed huge and clumsy. The shoelace had come undone again. It wasn't until one of them began to giggle that Harry realised there were other girls with Ginny. There were five of them in total, and they were all cloaked, with scarves, hats and gloves.

"Going somewhere?" He was desperate to remove the attention from himself. He felt even more foolish now than he had when the ink had been smeared all over his face.

Ginny ducked her head and smiled. At first he thought she had returned to her old, shy manner, but then he saw she was trying to hide the fact that she was laughing too. "The snowball fight I mentioned earlier, when you were doing your essay. Did you finish your essay?"

"Um, no," he admitted. Furious with himself for not remembering what she had said, he looked at his wrist and pretended to be surprised at the time. "Oh no, I'll be late!" he gasped falsely. He smiled goodbye and turned away. As he jogged on his way to the Hall, he wondered what had caused the girls to giggle even harder as he'd left. Then he saw that he didn't have his watch on.

What would Ginny think of him? He had no idea what she thought of him, and he didn't know why he should care. She was, after all, just Ron's little sister. But the little voice inside his head was speaking. It told him that Ginny would think he hadn't been paying attention when she had talked to him. She would think him stupid for smearing ink on himself, and for getting hit on the head by the door, and failing to tie his shoelace. She would think he wanted to get away from her when he'd pretended to look at his watch. The little voice also reminded him that he obviously cared what she thought of him, and that she wasn't so little any more. Cursing the little voice in his head, he slipped into the Great Hall.

"Ah, kind of you to join us, Mr Potter!" Madam Hooch remarked. He nodded and slid into a seat at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy sneered at him from across the room. With relief he sank into the comforting world of quaffles and chasers, Madam Hooch, and the glare of Malfoy. Some things always stayed the same. Malfoy had hated him before. Few knew of the events at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, and Cedric's death was shrouded in mystery. Now he was infamous rather than famous. Concentrating on Madam Hooch's voice, Harry reminded himself that Ginny wouldn't like the boy who caused Cedric's death. Not many people did, any more.