Demons at Hand

Harry stood in the middle of a large, circular room, filled with ghostly candles whose smoke wafted up towards the high ceiling. Purposefully he walked towards a door on his left, and, reaching out a pale hand, he opened it with a gentle push. On the other side of the door was a long corridor, lined with tomes that made even the blood-stained books of the Restricted section at Hogwarts look inviting. More ghostly candles littered the corridor, and the smoke, instead of billowing upwards, ran along the walls of the hallway, running along the spines of the books, up to the end and then disappearing around a corner. Without hesitation Harry followed the smoke around the corner until he was at the final end of the corridor. At first it looked like a dead end, but then a door appeared slowly, materialising out of thin air. Harry pulled it open, and then stepped into the room. It was circular, like the first room he had been in, but was filled with a brighter white glow. Stone benches were assembled around the edge, and in the middle of the room was a platform.

Harry walked towards the platform carefully. He recognised it--it was the same platform that Sirius had fallen off, two years ago. Something was missing from this place, though. Harry could not at first place his finger on it, but then he nodded in realisation. The arch--the veil--the voices. All of it was gone.

"...ah...Potter...you're here..."

Harry spun around. Two figures stood at the place that he had walked in through, though there was no door left, only a blank stone wall. Both the figures were tall and both were made of something that was darker than the blackest night, sucking in all light. Both of them had staring white eyes, and these they turned on him as they walked--no, rather glided--across the floor towards him.

"...you have taken long...we almost thought you would not come..." one whispered, reaching out a long, dark hand to touch him. Harry backed off, out of the reach of the hand, and folded his arms across his chest.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice echoing. Both of the things laughed. They were high-pitched laughs that reminded him of Voldemort.

"...my dear boy, we are the Guiders..."

"...and we are very good at what we do..."

"What do you mean?"

"...if we succeed in Guiding...well, we are killed, destroyed...we will never have existed and never will exist again..."

"...so, naturally, we guide only those who have great potential in making the wrong choices..."

"...and you have very great potential indeed..."

Harry looked around the room, and then understood. He was here, in this room, in the Death Chamber, because this is where his greatest mistake had occurred. A mistake that had cost his godfather his life. A mistake that had put his classmates, his best friends, in the greatest danger they'd ever known.

"...I believe you understand...it is not the frequency of the mistakes, you see...rather, the consequences that occur and the prices that must be paid for the mistake..."

"...we now have two mistakes that we can rely on...the first being the killing of Cedric Diggory...and the second being the killing of Sirius Black...both of which you caused..."

"So my mistakes are currently my greatest weakness..."

"...you are right, Cavan...the boy learns fast..."

"...I am always right, Adlai..."

Harry stepped back in recognition.

"Of course...the voices...you're what I saw that night...you're the ones that Marked me, aren't you?"

"...very good...we had, of course, originally hoped to deceive you...but now that you have seen us in our true forms...we will proceed with business..."

Harry regarded them for a second, and then nodded.

"Let's get down to business," he said, sitting down on the nearest stone bench. Both the figures, Cavan and Adlai, stood in front of him, white eyes staring.

"...our roles in this are as follows, boy...we Mark someone, and we, at regular intervals, provide him with choices...one wrong choice, and the Marked is immediately disposed of..."

"...and not many have gone farther than the first choice..."

"...of course, if you make the right choice...then we will let you live...until the next time, when we will once again provide choices for you..."

"...there is one thing, though..."

"What's that?"

"...we will not tell you which choice is right or wrong...you must deem which is the best choice by your own personal experiences...and we will charge or clear you according to your choice...and, if it is the right one...we will create the new choices according to the old one..."

"...and believe me...we will be ruthless..."

"...for now, however...the material world calls for your existence again, boy...so for now, we say goodbye...and bid that you think over all this...and prepare yourself for the choices..."

As if on cue, everything around Harry began to fade in a mix of colours, and Harry was jolted back to reality.

~*~

It was turning out to be a beautiful day. There was not a cloud in the forget-me-not blue sky, the sun was shining brightly, and it was warm. Ginny sat under the shade of a large tree, on the beach of the lake, her cloak underneath her, dangling her feet in the water. A large wasp buzzed around her head, and she huffed at it in annoyance.

"Oh, bugger off, you little snotrag," she said, waving her hand around her head.

"Not talking to me, are you?"

Ginny turned around to look at her brother, who was making his way slowly towards her. She grinned and flicked some water at him as he sat down beside her.

"So, how is my darling older brother going? I heard you and Hermione had a row. Did you make up?" she said, starting on her end of the deal she'd struck up with Hermione. Ron looked at her strangely.

"How'd you know about that?"

"Hell-o, Ron, the pair of you were shouting. I'm surprised the entire school hasn't heard about it!" she said. Ron grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, I guess we were a bit loud..." he said.

"So? Did you make up or what?" Ginny asked. Ron shrugged, his face falling slightly, and Ginny knew exactly why. Hermione had received a birthday present from her secret admirer, and after she'd opened it she began berating Ron about how careless and insensitive he was. Well, Ginny would have done the same if her best friend-slash-love interest had forgotten her birthday.

"Not exactly, Gin. Y'see, I haven't been exactly honest with her..."

Ginny gasped.

"Have you been seeing another girl?" she asked suspiciously. Ron pulled a face.

"No! It's just that...well..."

"Oh, come on, Ron. It can't be that horrible!"

"Well...you know the letters she's been getting? Well, she thinks I snoop around in her bag because I'm jealous...but...well...I'm the one who's been writing them..." he said nervously. Ginny gasped again.

"Oh. My. God," she said, her mouth open. "You--you? Oh my god, Ron! I never knew you could write! Oh my god!"

"You...you aren't mad?" he asked a little bewildered.

"Why should I be mad? You weren't being dishonest with me! But, Ron! You wrote those letters! Oh my god!"

Ron looked at his sister in total confusion.

"Yeah, I did, but--"

"Hermione loves those letters! She reckons they're beautiful, Ron!"

"Hermione...what?"

Ginny began to grin like someone insane.

"When are you going to tell her?" she shrieked.

"Preferably never!" Ron said, looking horrified at the very idea.

"Ron!"

"What? It's embarrassing! Writing is not my strong point!" he said stubbornly. Ginny sighed.

"Dear god, Ron! You're so stubborn! You can't see that those letters are beautiful! I read them!"

"What?! When did you read them?!"

"When I found Hermione sobbing on the floor, that's when. When she explained to me that she didn't think you and her as a pairing would ever work out. When she said she'd gladly spend her entire life with someone who could write like that!"

"Hermione said what?" Ron said, looking up into space. "You mean she...?"

"Yes! She really did like those letters!"

Ron slumped down, still staring into space, a grin starting to take control of him. Then suddenly he threw his hands up over his face, and he began to laugh.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" he shouted around fits of manic laughter. "YES!"

~*~

To the Gryffindor Quidditch Team,

Tryouts for the positions of Chaser no. 1 and Beater no. 1 & 2 will be held on the 15^th of August. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team must be there--the tryouts are an important part of the Quidditch calendar as Quidditch members who have been on the team for a long time will be able to see which students they would most like to see become a part of their team, based on both social and Quidditch skills.

Looking forwards to seeing you all there,

Minerva McGonagall

Harry scanned the letter quickly, and then shoved it deep into his bag. August fifteenth--another three weeks to go before the official Quidditch season started. There was no point in going off to find Ron--he'd appear sooner than later, and anyway, he knew all of this. Harry was in the common room, all alone, being bored out of his wits because no one here was bright enough to want to talk to him. They all just sort of sat in corners, whispering and giggling. It annoyed the hell out of him. The last straw came when a group of sixth-year girls--all of which seemed to be Ginny's friends--entered the common room in a mass of bodies. All of them looked at him, and began to giggle madly.

"Oh, look, there he is!" one of them whispered. Another nodded, and they proceeded talking like this as if he wasn't there. Rasing his eyebrows, Harry cleared his throat, grabbed his bag and anything else that belonged to him, and took his leave of the common room. He was halfway down the stairs when he ran into the one person who he had been looking for--Hermione. She had a set, angry look on her face, and she walked right past him without acknowledging his presence.

"Oi! Hermione!" he said, jogging up the stairs to catch up with her. She spun around, glared at him, and dropped everything she was holding, leaving it all to spill down the stairs.

"What? What? Are you here to stick up for that bastard of a best friend? Because I've had it!" she said, clearly having geared herself beforehand for a fight. Harry chuckled.

"Herm, I just want to talk, that's all," he said, holding his hands open as if to show he was unarmed. Hermione's angry look slowly faded, and finally she bent down to pick up all her stuff.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," she said. "I just...I feel so hopeless!"

"Why?"

"Ron is such an asshole! He snoops around in my bag, he tells me lies, he--"

"Hermione..." Harry said quietly, crouching down so he was smaller than her and looking her in the eyes. "Hermione...I think it's time we had a little talk..."

Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"Wha--what's wrong? Is there something wrong?"

"Yeah," Harry said, taking her elbow and steering her down the stairs to the main doors, which he pushed open with some effort, and then led her outside to a large tree by the water, a tree that the three of them had sat under many times before.

"Sit," he said. It wasn't a request. Immediately obliging, Hermione delicately sat down, and looked at him expectantly. After he himself had been seated, she started.

"I don't know what this is about, but it'd better be good because I have a lot of--"

"Hermione, hush. I want to talk to you about Ron," he said firmly. Hermione glared at him, making as if to get up, but Harry took hold of her arm again. For one with so slight a frame, he was surprisingly strong.

"Sit," he repeated, motioning to the ground. "And stay."

"How dare you talk to me like I'm nothing but a dog!" she said indignantly. Harry fixed her with his fiery green-eyed glare, and she closed her mouth automatically.

"Hush. I want to talk to you, and I want you to listen, and I want you to understand. Got it?"

She nodded, and he continued.

"Ron is upset. You've been reading him wrong--in fact, that's not the only thing you've been reading wrong," he said. "But let's start with Ron. He's really, really upset. He likes you, more so than a friend, but you give him no chances. You contradict his every move, his every word, as if you two are competing. You aren't--you're on the same team. But you, Hermione, seem to forget that. You seem to think that he's an opponent. He's not. He's one of your best friends, if not more. You can't seem to comprehend that he's there for you, just like I'm there for you," he said. Hermione swallowed. Of course she didn't try to compete with him--or did she?

"Now, onto the second point. Those letters you've been getting? Ron doesn't snoop around in your bag because he's jealous. He's the one who's been writing them. You got annoyed at him for no reason because he hadn't gotten you a birthday present; did you happen to notice the initials signed on the card from your mysterious admirer? Did you happen to notice the initials on every single one of the letters you've gotten from him? Because if I'm not mistaken, those letters are signed 'R.W.' And, if I'm not mistaken, you owe Ron one hell of an apology," Harry finished. Hermione sat there in stunned silence. Ron? The writer of the letters? Were there really initials on the letters? If so, why had she never noticed them before? Why had she not put one and one together? She'd always get the letters just after Ron was found snooping around in her bag. Why had she been so blind?

"I...I...oh, god...I didn't mean...oh...will he forgive me?" she whispered, drawing her cloak around her. Harry smiled.

"Of course he will. He's more terrified that you won't forgive him," he chuckled. Hermione looked at him, her gaze watery.

"Do you really think so?" she said, a large tear dripping down her cheek. Harry wiped it away with his sleeve, and pulled her into a hug.

"It'll be alright," he whispered, kissing her quickly on the cheek. "Everything will sort itself out, and you and Ron can finally kiss and make up."

Hermione pulled away from the hug, smiling, tears still running down her cheeks, and she cupped his face in her hands. Kissing his forehead, she smiled even wider, and looked at him fondly.

"God bless you, Harry Potter. God bless you!" she whispered. Harry grinned.

"Oi, Herm, everyone'll probably think you and I are now involved," he joked, helping her up. She laughed, and hooked her arm through his.

"Oh, yes, Harry. You're the only one!" she giggled, and then looked around as if searching for someone. Harry looked at her quizzically.

"Er, Herm, what're you doing?"

"Oh, just making sure no one's around. After all, from a distance, it probably looked like we were kissing," she giggled, leading him off towards Hogwarts.

~*~

Ginny gaped at Ron.

"Was that really...? Did they...?" she said, unable to believe what she'd just seen.

"My best friend..." he breathed. "Kissing...her..."

Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth. She and Ron had been talking when Harry and Hermione had seated themselves under a tree quite a distance away, but still close enough to be able to see exactly what went on. Harry and Hermione had been talking. Then Harry had hugged her tightly, and then he'd kissed her. Full-on pashing. And she'd kissed him back! No wonder he hadn't spoken to her since Ginny had kissed him! He was secretly dating Hermione! And no wonder Hermione had said that she and Ron were never meant to be! Harry and Hermione were involved! There was nothing more to it. They were involved, and were perhaps way past just kissing...No! Ginny thumped her head wildly, trying not to think about it, hot tears stinging her eyes.

"No! No! It can't be!" she sobbed, gathering Ron into a hug. "No!"

Ron's eyes were still glued on the tiny dot that was Harry and Hermione.

"I can't believe it..." he muttered, pushing Ginny aside, his face growing angry. "That stupid son-of-a-bitch! I'll kill him! I'll fucking kill him!" he shouted, getting up. Ginny got up too, the infamous Weasley temper awakened.

"That bastard," she murmured dangerously. "I'll kill him if I ever see him again. I can't believe...five years of my life...wasted...on an asshole like him...I'll kill him!"

~*~

Draco smiled as he sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, watching, as usual. Taking out a lighter from his pocket, he proceeded to play with it, regarding the Gryffindor table closely.

"Ah...what's this I spy?" he muttered softly to himself. "Granger and Potter on one side--" and here he flicked open the lighter "--and the remaining Weasleys on the other."

Snap.

Draco placed the lighter back inside his pocket, and mused over what he saw. And then he smiled. Potter and Weasley, in a fight. Granger and Weasley, in a fight. Both warring amongst each other--perfect. And the Weasleys would only make it harder on everyone by their stubbornness, their unwillingness to forgive and forget. Their--for lack of a better word--Weasleyness. Perhaps a bit of digging would prove fruitful. So, standing up, he made his excuses, and left the table. There was one person who saw almost everything, and knew almost everything, and Draco was going to pay him a little visit.

~*~

Luna sat beside a large pile of books in the library. Dinner had been quick and uneventful, besides the usual round of fresh rumours that were passed on from source to source from each House. One rumour had been particularly interesting--Harry and Hermione, it seemed, had been seen pashing under a tree during the weekend, and Ron and Ginny were now at war with them. Of course, there was no real way of telling if this was true or not--most rumours turned out to be fake, and Luna had great faith that this rumour, too, was the product of an overactive imagination(and anyway, Luna had seen the whole incident).

Sighing, Luna put down the book she'd just finished, and then picked up another one. This one, entitled 'Around the Mountain' was by Sheila B. Cumming, and was supposed to be relatively funny. Luna looked through it. No. Not even the tiniest bit funny. Putting down 'Around the Mountain', she picked up another one. This had better be interesting, she thought. This book was called 'Silence is Golden', by Xavier Breath. Opening it up, she began to read, and, deciding she liked it, immediately investigated the last few pages, before starting to read it fully.

"...are you sure? Is this from a reliable source?"

Luna's ears pricked up immediately at the voice. It belonged to Draco Malfoy. Moving her chair ever so slightly, she began to listen intently, her eyes fixed on one spot in the book.

"Of course. My sources are always reliable."

This voice was unfamiliar, but it sounded like a Slytherin's. Slytherins always had tell-tale I'm-better-than-you voices.

"Good. Continue."

"About a few weeks ago, Harry and Ron had a fight over something. I personally was watching from an upstairs window. They weren't loud enough, but I got the drift pretty well. It seems that Ron and Harry are fighting over Hermione."

Luna bit her fist. Ron and Harry, fighting over Hermione? Unlikely. After all, she'd overheard Harry and Hermione while at the lake the day before. They had been discussing how Hermione should try to be a little bit more understanding, and that she and Ron were supposed to be together, or at least try. They'd remained strictly friends, had exchanged a few friendly kisses, and then they'd been off, joking about how people might think they were kissing, if seen from a distance.

"Hmm...do I take your word for it, or seek out another source?"

"No. My word is the only word. You know that."

"Tell me more."

Intense anger flitted through Luna's mind. Draco Malfoy, ordering everyone about. It was despicable.

"Yesterday afternoon I saw Harry and Hermione kissing under a tree. Does that information tickle your fancy?"

"...Very well. Thankyou for parting with your secrets. They have been most helpful. You may go."

"Draco. The price..."

There was silence for a little while after that, and then came the sound of gasping.

"I will not squeeze your throat too hard today--I must keep up my strength. But if you ever expect me to pay for your secrets again, I will find myself a new source," came the voice of Draco. There was the scraping of a chair, a few muttered threats, and then a black-haired boy Luna had never seen before stormed out of the library. Luna closed her book with a snap, and was about to get up, when a vice-like grip closed around the back of her neck.

"You heard," Draco muttered in her ear. "How much?"

She smiled, and discreetly reached behind her, closing her own hand around the crotch of Draco's pants. He immediately let her go, and she then released him. Turning around to look at him, she smiled.

"Have a nice day, Draco," she said, saluting him slightly, and getting up. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she walked out of the library, smiling to herself. This little secret of hers was worth spilling.

~*~

Harry sat silently outside in the Gryffindor stands, his own uniform matching perfectly with the backdrop of scarlet and gold. It was a little after dawn, and no other soul was awake at Hogwarts. The tryouts were due to start at ten o'clock sharp, but seeing as it was barely five, Harry had a reasonable amount of time to waste. And he would do just that.

Not feeling in the mood for flying right now, Harry sighed. A jaw muscle in his cheek tightened as he thought about the happenings of recent weeks. He'd been wisely avoiding Ron and Ginny for the last three weeks--ever since they'd gotten the idea into their heads that Harry and Hermione were a couple, they hadn't been very friendly. And, of course, Harry and Hermione tried to spend as little public time together as possible, just in case they were sprung by the two remaining Weasleys.

Harry's mind slid from one topic to another. So far, the extra lessons he'd been receiving were going reasonably well. Professor McGovern was teaching him how to Summon his Familiar--a trick not used successfully in over a century, but worth having up one's sleeve. Hagrid was giving him lessons on how to communicate with different types of magical creatures, and, to his utter amazement, McGonagall was teaching him how to become an Animagus. She'd told him in the beginning that usually one had to register from the very first lesson, but said it would be wiser (and safer) if no one except she, Harry, and Dumbledore knew about it.

The other professors were teaching him things like how to make healing potions and how to identify useful magical plants (taught by Pomfry and Sprout, of course), how to conjure Mist Bogs (a trick Trelawney had no doubt found useful), and how to chart one's course using the stars (Professor Sinatra's speciality). The other more useful spells that were being drilled into his brain were Blades of Fire, taught and created by Madame Pince; Song of Darkness, something that was being lectured to him rather than taught, seeing as Professor Binns could no longer teach magic; Legitimens, something that had kept Snape alive for years (and something that was proving to be dead easy), and the ultimate: Control. Taught by Dumbledore himself, Control was more mental fitness than any magical talent, but it was proving to be the hardest skill Harry was learning. To be able to mentally control one's magical powers, one had to understand every aspect of the magic he or she was creating. The affects, consequences, and duration of the spell had to be recognised. The caster had to be aware of everything about the target, so basically, Harry had to learn to evaluate everything in at least three seconds flat, which was proving to be a little difficult. At the moment, his record time was about fifty seconds, which was not nearly quick enough.

The soft, sweet chirping of a bird caught his attention for a while. Studying the small creature, he was strangely tempted to snap his hand out at it and capture it. Ignoring this sensation, he forced himself to look away. This was not the only strange thing that had been happening to him. He knew he wasn't sleeping well, and he knew he was barely eating. Over the past three weeks alone he could count on one hand the times he'd gone to the Great Hall for either breakfast, dinner, or lunch, and the results of his skipping meals was becoming apparent. He was snappier than he usually was, more held back. He pushed people farther away, and sought out more time alone. He'd also been occasionally gripped by impulses to attack other students, which he'd so far managed to beat to submission, but knew it wouldn't be long until he'd have to let his impulses take him. He'd have to tell people about what he was feeling, and they would try to tell him what to do.

What do they know? he thought darkly. They know nothing of what I'm going through. Even Ron thought I was someone different!

Isn't that because of your mask? Isn't that what you wanted to happen? a darker part of him asked. As much as he hated to admit it, he did want people to think he was a different person. He was never serious when with his friends or other people. He'd changed himself to suit others. To his friends, he was Harry, happy, carefree Harry. To his teachers, he was just another average student, never raising expectations too high or letting them drop too low. And to everyone else, he was the fearless Boy Who Lived.

And to yourself? Who are you to yourself?

...I don't know. I don't know who I am.

Harry admitted this shamefully. It was true. To himself, in private, he was a hate-filled man who knew too much of Voldemort had been transferred to him sixteen years ago. People were always telling him not to let Voldemort get under his skin, but how could that be, when Voldemort was as much a part of him as he was of Voldemort? The both of them shared a bond much stronger than anything he had with anyone else--Voldemort had been revived using Harry's blood, and Harry had grown up with a small part of Voldemort inside him, which, at first, had been like an intruder, but was steadily becoming a permanent part of him. And Harry, to his uttermost shame, did not want to admit that he didn't want to loose that part.

'You are a boy of many burdens...' 'A child like you should not have to face all this alone...' 'Always remember, you do not have to do this...' 'This is not your war...' 'You are too young...much too young...' 'You do not have to do this alone.'

The voices of his many professors filled his head. None of them seemed to realise that he was no longer a boy, no longer a child. They also seemed to think that he did not see through the lies they told him--this was his war, not theirs. This was his fight, no one else's. And it was his destiny, his birthright, to do this alone. No one else had the right to fight Voldemort. Doing so would only invite death. And no one deserved that, no one whom he knew, whom he went to school with. Early death was his alone.

~*~

Ginny eyed her watch carefully. It was nearly ten o'clock. As much as she hated it, McGonagall had wanted the entire team to appear for the team tryouts, and whenever McGonagall said 'Jump', all anyone else could do was ask 'How high?' Ginny had been dreading this day for the past three weeks--she had avoided any contact whatsoever with Harry and Hermione since that fateful day three weeks ago. Blinking her eyes furiously, she bent over, poked her brother in the ribs, and woke him up.

"Hey, wha--?" he said, sitting up suddenly.

"Time to wake up, Ron," she said stiffly. "Quidditch tryouts are on in half an hour."

Ron looked excited at this, but then his face fell.

"Oh, right. Duh. He'll be there," Ron muttered. Ginny pursed her lips.

"Do we have to go?" she asked. Ron laughed.

"As much as I'd love to stay, we have to go. After all, it's our duty as Quidditch team members," he said, getting up and pulling on his Hogwarts robes. The pair of them had fallen asleep on one of the lounges in the common room the night before, and therefore were still in their clothing.

"C'mon, let's get our uniforms and scoot, Gin," he added as he raced upstairs. Huffing, she followed him, and entered her own dormitory. Resurfacing with her Gryffindor uniform on, she grabbed her broomstick, and met her brother down in the common room again. The pair of them exited, and were about half-way down when Colin Creevey met them on the stairs, positively beaming.

"Hi, Ginny, hi, Ron!" he said enthusiastically. "Guess what?"

Not wanting to dampen his spirits, but also not in the mood for guessing games, Ginny replied, half-heartedly, "What?"

"I'm trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" he said, smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh, really, that's great," she said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as he did. "What position?"

"Beater!"

Ginny did not trust herself to speak then, she was trying so hard not to laugh. Due to his small size, she found it hard that he would actually be able to lift the Beater's bat, let alone swing it while moving.

"Erm, Colin? Do you have any other positions in mind?" Ron asked a little tentatively.

"Oh, yeah, I'll also try out for Chaser!" he replied, nodding profusely.

"Ah, good, then. Well, we'll see you down in the pitch in half--erm, twenty minutes," Ron said, rechecking his watch. "We, er, we have to go. See you later," he added, trying to sound convincing. Ginny also waved goodbye, and the pair of them hurried down the stairs as fast as they could, their brooms dragging along the ground. At the bottom, the pair of them both burst out laughing.

"Oh, dear," Ginny giggled. "I wonder if he'll make it?"

"Maybe in the munchkins' league, but certainly not in this team!"

Ginny hit her brother lightly.

"Oh, stop being so mean," she said. "He's nice, if not a little annoying."

Ron looked at her as he pushed open the main doors forcefully.

"D'you...d'you think I was a little harsh with Harry?"

Ginny's happy expression faded immediately.

"He deserved all you said to him," she said.

"Did he really?" he mused. She shot him a sharp look.

"Of course he did!"

"But...he kept on trying to tell me something--"

"Excuses!"

"--And I was too angry to listen to him," he finished, a tad guilty.

"Who cares, Ron? We're better off without him!"

"But are we?"

Ginny pinched Ron.

"Ouch!" he said, pushing her away. "What was that for?"

"It's to wake you up! Don't you see, he's been lying to us for ages! Ages upon ages! He could have been lying to us since last year! Don't you understand that?" she said harshly.

"But was he lying?"

"Ron!"

"Hey, it's just a suggestion!" he said, backing off, his hands up in defeat. By this time they had reached the Quidditch stadium, and ducked into the changing rooms, where the rest of the team was assembled, along with the students who wanted to try out. Harry wasn't inside. Ron and Ginny continued until they were outside. Harry, they noticed, was busy talking to a group of people who wanted to try out. Noticing, he looked for a moment as if he was about to wave to them, but then thought better of it, and took out a whistle instead. Blowing one shrill note on it, he waited as the other team members and wannabes filed outside. Everyone assembled themselves in front of him. Ginny and Ron stood at the very back.

"Right. Let's get this off the ground. I'm Harry Potter, just in case you didn't know--" (and here a few people began to laugh) "--and I'm the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. There are three places to be filled: one Chaser position and both the Beater positions. You'll basically be put into a mock-Quidditch atmosphere, in your respective position, and you'll be tested on how well you do, how skilled you are, and also how well you interact with the rest of the team. The team, by the way--" he motioned to the three others dressed in scarlet and gold "--are me, Parvati Patil, and Ginny and Ron Weasley up the back there.

"But before we begin, I want everyone here to tryout to write their name down on this piece of parchment here. You'll be called up to do your tryout, and then I'd like you to wait in the changing rooms. We'll be starting our practises straight after this, so I want the new Chaser and Beaters to be there."

Harry said this all matter-of-factly, and even Ginny and Ron were impressed by it.

"Nice speech," Ginny muttered under her breath. Ron caught her eye, and winked at her, before they both mounted their brooms and rose up in the air. Harry alone stayed on the ground, seeing as the role of Seeker did not need to be fulfilled at this particular moment, and anyway, he had a better view of everyone from the ground.

On the whole, it was more organised than Ginny had first thought. People wrote down their names, and then basically, according to their position, they would have either Quaffles thrown at them, which they would then have to pass on, all while moving, or they would have to defend team mates from the Bludgers.

The first person to be called up was a tall, slender sixth-year girl that Ginny knew called Alex Wiseman. She had long brown hair pulled up into a pony-tail, and took to the air like a bird in flight, though, as Ginny noted with some pride, she was no where near as good as Harry. Trying out for the position as Chaser, she swerved, ducked, flipped and turned with ease, although she almost missed the Quaffle once or twice. When her turn was over, she dismounted, and then winked flirtingly up at Harry. Harry smiled slightly, and then called up the next person.

Jacqui Wade was another sixth-year who hung out in with Ginny's group of friends. She was slightly shorter than Alex, and was trying out for the position of Beater. Rising up into the air, she did not have as much talent as the first contestant for when it came to flying, but that was all made up by the fact that she had an amazingly strong swing and superb aim. As Ginny flew around, she noted that Jacqui was just as good as her brothers, which was a bonus. The Gryffindor team had urgent need of a good Beater.

The third contender was Dean Thomas, who was trying out for the Chaser position. Ginny adverted her eyes from him. Ever since she'd broken up with him last year, he had not been too friendly with her. He wasn't much when it came to flying, however, and did not manage to bypass Ron and shoot any goals. As he dismounted his broom he shot one last furtive glance at Harry, before disappearing into the changing rooms.

Next came Seamus, who was perfectly built for the role he wanted to take: Beater. Like Jacqui, he had good aim and a steady arm, and managed to defend the rest of the team easily. Ginny saw Harry nod in appreciation, and she nodded slightly at Seamus, who grinned back at her.

Harry then called up Lauren Keldi, a rather nervous-looking second-year who was trying out for the position of Chaser. She almost toppled out of the air when she mounted, performed so badly that everyone felt sorry for her, and then dismounted, burst into tears, and ran away. Harry looked after her sympathetically.

Olga Dachov was after her. Olga was a tall, thin girl who looked as if she were either in her second or third year. She mounted her broom expertly, but Ginny, sensing that this was pure act rather than talent, decided to put her through her paces. She sped up the practice slightly, and Olga, just as she had suspected, dropped the Quaffle every time it was thrown to her, and finally dismounted with shame.

A fifth-year called Lizzie Ryan came next. She did not pretend she was any good at Quidditch--on the contrary, she spent the entire time moaning about how horribly bad she was and how she'd never make it. Ginny immediately disliked this girl, and fought the urge twice to throw the Quaffle at her head.

And, finally, last but not least came Colin. He was beaming up at Harry, and Harry grinned back down at him. Colin, for all his size, was rather good, although he was a bit short and his arms were not long enough to be able to reach in front of him to catch the Quaffle when Ginny and Parvati threw it to him at odd angles. When he dismounted, he looked slightly less energetic, but Harry bent down and whispered something in his ear, and he immediately perked up, grinning and disappearing. Harry then waved for the rest of the team to come down. Bending down, he opened a trunk that Ginny had not noticed before, and pulled out three sets of Gryffindor Quidditch robes.

"Colin'll be back in a second--he's just gone to get Alex, Jacqui and Seamus," he said. "And then we'll be practising."

Colin then made his entrance, accompanied by the new Quidditch members, and then he grinned, saluted Harry, and disappeared once more. Harry chucked the robes over towards the three new team members.

"Put those on for now, and remind me we need to change the names," he told them. They nodded, pulled the robes on, and then waited for more instructions.

"Well, what are you all waiting for? Up into the air!" he said, grinning. When they were all in the air, he released the Bludgers and threw the Quaffle up. Lastly he released the Snitch, which fluttered around his head in a flurry of gold, and then was gone. Finally he mounted his broom, and shot up into the air like a bullet.

"Ok, you all. I just want you to get used to each other. I want talking--shout each other's name before throwing the Quaffle. Also, tell each other that you're open. Got it?"

There was a murmur of acknowledgement, and Harry grinned.

"Good. Then hop to it!"

Practice went well overall. Alex, Jacqui and Seamus fit in well, and Ginny felt that already they had a good team. Harry had risen above everyone else, looking around for the Snitch and also keeping an eye on his team.

"Shit!"

Ginny looked up. Harry was looking above him, and at first she thought it had begun to rain. The sky was cloudless, however, and Ginny had no idea what Harry had sworn about. Her answer came very shortly.

"You guys carry on. The Snitch's flying upwards, and I'm going to go get it before it gets to far away. I'll be back in a second!" he said, and then he began to rise swiftly. Ginny stopped herself calling up after him--she was supposed to hate him. Sighing, she flew off towards the hovering group made up of her brother and the rest of the team, who were using this chance to take a break and talk.

~*~

Harry sped ever higher. The Snitch was not far up now, and in a moment's time he would outstrip it. Reaching out his hand, he was about to snatch it up when it zoomed even higher up. He was at least a hundred feet up, and gaining. Suddenly filled with a strange desire to catch the Snitch, he, stretching out his hand to its fullest extent, was about make a grab for it when his broom suddenly froze, almost dismounting him. In the same instant he was transported to the Death Chamber. Adlai was watching him emotionlessly.

"...the Choice is now, Potter...will you let her fall or will you catch the Snitch?" he asked, his voice echoing. Then a horrible, terrified, pain-stricken scream filled the air, and Harry was whipped back to life again. He turned his head forcefully to look back down, and he saw it. Ginny was falling. She was at least fifty feet up in the air. Without thinking Harry shot a spell of towards her, not noticing that his wand was not in his hand, that he had not even uttered any words. And then, with one last painful look back at the Snitch, he forced himself to turn around, and began to speed back down towards the ground.

~*~

Ginny could not believe what had just happened to her. One minute she had been falling, and the next, she was hovering in the middle of the air, about three feet off the ground, looking up. From here she could see Harry making his way back down to the ground, and she sighed. Thank god for Harry, otherwise she would have fallen unaided and could have caused herself serious injury.

"Wrong choice!"

Ginny's head snapped around. Seamus was running furiously, his eyes strangely diluted, and then he mounted his broom and kicked off, zooming up with a speed that was not granted to his make of broom. Ginny watched him as he sped upwards, meeting Harry at about a hundred feet into the air. Already she could tell what was happening. Beside her, Ron looked up and shouted out in fury. Seamus' arm swung up above his head, his Beater's club clutching in his hand, and then he brought it crashing down on Harry's head. As if in slow motion, she saw Harry freeze, and very slowly he curved backwards, and began to fall. It seemed like forever before he actually hit the ground, but there was a large thud as he made contact.

"No!" she screamed, jumping out of the air and sprinting towards him. Beside her, Ron ran, and he outstripped her, skidding to a halt next to him and kneeling down. Behind her she could hear the other team members calling for help.

Kneeling down beside him, Ginny took Harry's head in her hands. His eyes were closed.

"Harry!" she said urgently, her voice high with panic. "Harry!"

"Harry, wake up, mate, wake up!" Ron said, shaking him by the shoulders. Just in front of them stood Seamus. He looked utterly horrified.

"You...you!" shouted Ginny, standing up and hitting up. "You! You killed him, you!"

"Ginny! Ginny!" Ron said, leaving his best friend's side to pin her arms to her sides. She collapsed on him, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Him...or, he's dead..." she whispered.

Even Ron could not hide his tears.

"No, Gin, no. He'll be alright," he whispered, sinking to the ground. "He'll be alright. He has to be!"

Behind them Parvati was running back, Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall running next to her, moving fast for two of such age. Before she knew it, Dumbledore had created a stretcher, placed Harry upon it, and had moved away. McGonagall looked after him, worry etched into her face. Then she turned around, and motioned for the entire team to follow her.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you some questions as to what went on here," she said. As they all walked away, Ginny tearfully eyed the small dot in the distance that was Dumbledore and Harry.

"Live, Harry," she whispered. "Live!"