Harry Potter and the Return to the Riddle House

Chapter Eighteen

The Quidditch Final

Around the middle of March, Harry was beginning to feel Ginny's pain as a fifth year preparing for her O.W.L.s. Although his own workload wasn't quite as bad as the previous year's was, it was still difficult to find time for homework, Quidditch practice, and his life all at once. Besides O.W.L. year, he had never began preparing for exams this early, but he did not expect anything different for next year's N.E.W.T.s, either. So he and his fellow students spent most of the warming days inside the tower, trying to memorize wand movements, potion ingredients, and incantations.

"But it's still early in the year," Hermione reminded them. "At least we can still afford to take weekends off."

"Yeah, instead of studying, we can get ourselves killed," Ron said moodily. They had spent last Saturday at Hagrid's; to their dismay, he insisted they come and play hide and seek with Grawp.

"Ron, you said back at Christmas you wouldn't pick a fight; and then you go and say things like that!" Hermione said heatedly. Ron sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Even the pact they made so they wouldn't argue makes them argue," Rachel muttered to Harry over the two's bickering.

But it wasn't a bad fight; Ron and Hermione were speaking pleasantly during dinner. That was useful, because now they could worry about what happened that evening in the Great Hall.

Harry was just finishing his roast beef and Rachel was telling them a funny story about a time she and Chris were playing Shuntbumps (a kind of primitive jousting game on broomsticks where the main object is to knock your opponent off his or her broom) when Parvati Patel and Lavender Brown, two Gryffindor girls in Harry's year, slid in next to her.

"Rachel, you will never guess what happened!" Parvati said excitedly, trying to wriggle in between her and Hermione. "Oh, you don't mind, do you Hermione?"

"Ah, no, I guess n--"

"So I was in Transfiguration, and that Jeremy Allen from Ravenclaw was asking me and Lavender if you were seeing anyone! I mean, he was asking all about you, isn't that great?"

Rachel looked rather startled; Harry got the distinct impression that she hadn't spoken to these girls more than three or four times.

"Um... sure, I guess..."

"What do you mean, you guess?" Lavender said, looking at Rachel like she was mad. "Have you ever seen Jeremy Allen?"

"Yeah, he's... nice, um..."

"Come on, Rachel, it's about time you met a nice boy. You've never once gone out with anyone, this whole year! You even turned some dates down--is there someone back home, or something?"

"No, just..."

"Are you seeing anybody here?" asked Parvati, rather slyly. Rachel was speechless for an instant, which Lavender and Parvati took immediately as confirmation.

"I bet that's why you spent so long with my curling iron Valentine's Day, isn't it?" Parvati said with a triumphant air.

"Come on, who is it?" Lavender pressed, her eyes shining.

"What?" Rachel said, visibly startled. "You're crazy... just because I play with my hair doesn't mean I'm dating anyone, that's... that's so ridiculous..."

Harry gulped, and carefully avoided looking at her. In the back of his mind, he strained to remember her hair on Valentine's Day; he should have mentioned it... Harry shook himself mentally. That wasn't important now. Were they so obvious the second-flakiest girls in the school (behind Luna) could notice?

"You blushed the other day when we asked you if you fancied anyone! Come on, 'fess up!"

Rachel was looking distinctly annoyed now, but there was a pink tinge on her cheeks. "No, I don't!" she said, more firmly. "Lavender, I'm not... ready, it's... it's too--soon. I mean, with my--my mom and dad and all..."

She shifted uncomfortably. Lavender and Parvati both froze, looking mortified. Harry knew that they knew only that Rachel's parents were dead and Voldemort was involved.

"Oh... of course... oh, Rachel, we're sorry, we didn't... realize..." They looked awkwardly at each other. "Um, we'll go... leave you to your dinner..."

They hurried away and Harry glanced at Rachel. That was what Fred and George had said, that it was too soon.... Rachel looked more nervous than grieving at the moment, as she shot an anxious look up the table to where Parvati and Lavender had returned. Harry didn't think it wise to talk to her just yet, but he wondered if he should be worried.

But Rachel didn't mention it during Quidditch practice that evening, or that night as they did their homework. In fact, she helped Harry and Ron with their Potions essay and gave Harry a quite normal smile as she went up the staircase to bed. He wished he could talk to her about it, but he would have to wait until they were alone.

***

As it turned out, Harry wasn't alone with Rachel all that week. The closest he came to it was when they were with Ron and Hermione, but he didn't want to bring it up in front of them. However, Rachel was acting perfectly normal; she smiled and chatted and laughed. He supposed he had nothing to worry about.

Harry also needed to devote time to anther problem--the Quidditch final. Slytherin had beaten Hufflepuff by nearly a hundred points, making up for their win over Ravenclaw by just twenty. Harry spent a lot of time figuring out plays and blocks and studying Slytherin's tactics, and began to understand why Oliver Wood and Alicia Johnson had been so stressed. He looked over the records and couldn't help impressing on his teammates whenever he saw them that they couldn't tie, or the Cup would go to Slytherin. (He was careful, however, to think about his classes and friends, at least occasionally, so he wouldn't go completely mad.)

As April 15^th, the date of the final match, drew nearer, problems began to arise. This was Hailey Morgan's first final, and she was nervous. The team was starting to fumble plays, easy ones, sometimes. Harry kept assuring them that they would be fine, and it was just another match. That worked to some extent, but Hailey was not used to all the jeers and threats of the opposing team, and Ron and Jack barely were. Harry had stopped noticing it entirely years ago, but the stress proved to be even worse than he had remembered.

On the day before the match, Harry was eating lunch at the Gryffindor table and trying to learn the invocation to a Blazing Wall curse for Defense Against the Dark Arts, when a very pale Jack Sloper came up behind him and said abruptly,

"I quit."

It took Harry a moment to process this.

"What?" he said stupidly.

"Look, mate, you're just going to have to get a new Beater; I stink, I-I'll never be good enough for the Inter-House Championship."

"Wha--Jack, the match is tomorrow! You can't quit now!"

"Sorry, Captain. I'm out."

Jack turned and strode out of the Hall, looking relieved. Harry felt angry enough to yell at him, and was beginning to feel the earliest traces of panic, when an idea hit him, and he called down the table,

"Hey, Sam! Sam McClaggan!"

***

Harry spent all of that night on the Quidditch field with Sam, who was going to fill in for Sloper. He was a good Beater; if Harry had realized it was possible back in September, he would have cut Jack and given his place to Sam. Harry stayed with him until almost eleven, when he finally told him to get some sleep. He was glad he didn't have any homework due the next day, and immensely relieved Sam could take over on such short notice. Then he crept into his dormitory and made himself rest for the match.

The next morning, Harry woke at dawn with adrenaline already coursing through him. He dressed and slipped down to breakfast, where he found every one of his team members and the Slytherin team members, and a few early risers. He made his way to the Gryffindor table among hisses and taunts, barely registering them.

"Hey Potty, ready to lose?" Malfoy said when he reached him.

Rachel, who was right next to where Harry was standing, said,

"Malfoy, tell me, have you ever won a Quidditch match against Harry?" sounding innocently curious. She raised her eyebrows.

Malfoy's face soured, but he couldn't think of a reply.

"I didn't think so," Rachel said with a grin among laughs from the Gryffindors and bystanders.

"Good point," Harry said, sliding in beside her. "Please pass the bacon."

When the Great Hall was mostly filled, Harry led his team out to the locker rooms, after Hermione wished them all good luck. They changed quickly and sat on the benches, waiting, and listening to the stadium rapidly fill above them. When it was almost time to start, Harry stood in front of his team, his heart pounding and his mouth dry, but excitement welling up inside him.

"All right," he said. "I know you're nervous, and I don't blame you. I'm nervous. But... this is what we've been training for all year. We've been out there, giving up our time and energy in practice, and we've gotten better. We've spent long days playing so many games, and we've won. We deserve this. We've earned it. That Cup doesn't belong to Slytherin, and we're not going to let them take it. We're a good team, we know our game, and we've played hard all year. Well, most of us," he added, and Sam McClaggan grinned. "And we didn't let anything stop us, even last night. Now let's go show them how to play Quidditch!"

His team shouted their enthusiasm; Harry didn't know where that speech came from, but suddenly he felt invincible. The crowd outside cheered, and they strode out of the locker rooms when Lee Jordan called their names to the stadium. Harry shook hands aggressively with the Slytherin captain, swung a leg over his broom, and took a deep breath, his heart beating in his mouth. Madame Hooch blew her whistle and the fourteen players blasted into the air.

"And it's Connor with the Quaffle, Connor passes to Bell, Bell to Weasley, back to Connor, oh, intercepted by Pucey, Pucey of Slytherin going for goal... whoa, nice Bludger from McClaggan, and he really saved the team, jumping right in like that, a good choice by Gryffindor's Captain, Potter...

Lee's commentary rang throughout the stadium; both teams where playing at their best. After a few moments of battling for the Quaffle, Ginny scored the first goal of the match.

But the Slytherins were not giving up; their Warrington scored soon after. Rachel put the Quaffle through twice after that, Ron blocked a goal to his right hoop but then let one in through the left, and Hailey Morgan smacked the Quaffle right out of Montague's hands with a well-aimed Bludger. Gryffindor had a narrow lead, but the Slytherins were coming up fast.

Katie Bell took the Quaffle and, to Pucey's great surprise, suddenly flung it below her to Rachel. Harry, circling the stadium, muttered, "Yes!" to himself; they had been having trouble with that play. Rachel feinted to the left and scored once more through Keeper Bletchley's right hoop. Now the score was 50 to 30, and then Katie scored again. The Slytherins were becoming very nasty; it could only be a matter of time before they began playing dirty. Harry was interested to see how Snape was reacting, with his House team pitched against his daughter, but he had to keep watch for the Snitch. He zoomed near the stands so he could hear Lee better.

"And Connor passes to Weasley, tearing up the field, she's right by the goal-- arrrgh, that had to hurt..."

A singular groan rose from the crowd, Madame Hooch blew her whistle for a time out and both teams landed on the grass. Ginny had been hit in the ribs by both Bludgers at once and fell off her broom; Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, was on the field already examining her. Ginny was gritting her teeth in pain.

"Is she okay?" Harry asked. The nurse gave Ginny a paper cup of potion and examined her side gently. For a few minutes she stayed by her, until Ginny looked to be in less pain and tried to stand. A few people sighed with relief.

"It doesn't look like she broke anything," she said finally to Madame Hooch. "But she can't fly like this; it'll damage her ribcage. I'm afraid you'll have to take her out of the game."

"What?!" Ginny exclaimed. "No, I'm fine, I just need to rest it for a while, can't I go back after a few minutes?"

"Absolutely out of the question," Madame Pomfrey said firmly. "Take this potion for the pain, and if the game is still on in a few hours, we'll see."

"A few hours?" Ginny and most of the team cried. "Really, I'll be fine, we can't play with two Chasers! Madame Hooch, can't you--"

Madame Hooch cut her off.

"I cannot overrule the nurse. Potter, get your team together and get in the air."

"But Madame Hooch, we don't have any reserve players--"

"Than you'll have to play with who you have. I'm sorry; that's the rule."

"But--"

"Get flying unless you want a penalty!" Madame Hooch snapped, her whistle threateningly close to her lips.

Ginny looked upset, so Harry patted her shoulder and motioned to his team.

"Come on... we didn't let Sloper leaving get us, and this won't either," he said decisively, and much more confidently than he felt. "I hope," he added in an undertone.

But Slytherin had a definite advantage. No matter how good the Gryffindor Chasers were, they were outnumbered. Rachel and Katie could barely do any of their plays without Ginny, and even though Ron was in top form, the Slytherin Chasers were not in the final for nothing. The Slytherin crowd was going mad. Rachel managed to score twice, but Warrington, especially, was playing excellently. The score steadily grew against Gryffindor.

Still, Harry reminded himself, the Snitch is worth one hundred and fifty points. If he caught it, they could salvage a win. The goggles Rachel had given him were excellent, and he was soaring above the game and tailing Malfoy closely in case he saw it. But Harry kept an increasingly nervous eye on the score... 70-80... a Bludger forced Montague to drop the ball, but Pucey caught it... 70-90... oh no, 70-100... he watched in horror, his Chasers could barely keep the Quaffle for a few seconds before it was grabbed by one of the Slytherins, and they were flying at Ron so often he couldn't keep up. Katie scored... 80-130... Ron managed to block one... then he didn't... 80-150... 80-170... Lee Jordan and most of the crowd in the stands were yelling that the game wasn't fair. Gryffindor was being slaughtered. Harry saw Ginny arguing again with Madame Pomfrey, his search now becoming feverish. 80-200... Ron blocked a couple... with the Beaters and three opponents against Rachel and Katie, this was ridiculous... 80-210... they could still win with the Snitch... 80-220... Rachel scored... 90-230... Harry was becoming frantic; he had to find the Snitch. With one more goal, they would be one hundred and fifty points behind, and even if Harry got the Snitch, a tie would go to Slytherin. No, Montague had the Quaffle again... this game wasn't on, this wasn't fair... no! Slytherin scored again, 90-240. Well, if Gryffindor scored again, and Harry got the Snitch, they could make it. Harry had caught innumerable Snitches, he could do it, simple.... But Rachel yelled with frustration as Warrington yanked the Quaffle from her hands; then, in front of Harry, Malfoy suddenly dove. Harry's heart leapt; he saw the Snitch and instinctively flattened himself on his broom, he raced ahead of Malfoy. The crowd was yelling. Malfoy yelled something at him but was far behind ... Harry flung out his arm and barely managed to snatch the Snitch, but it was with a horrible sinking feeling, instead of the usual jubilant one. A tie would go to Slytherin. The crowd was absolutely screaming. He cursed under his breath as he sank to the ground, the same thought pounding into his mind over and over. They had lost. They had lost the Quidditch Cup. But he slowly realized what the people in the stands were yelling--things like 'Lions for the Cup' and sounds of disbelief. Why was that Slytherin fourth year booing? Harry saw, about twenty feet to his right, the rest of his team in a knot, yelling themselves hoarse. He ran over, what was going on? Surely they didn't...

"What happened?" he asked. Ginny was standing next to him and laughing.

"Harry you should have seen it, it was incredible! Everyone was stopped in midair, watching you and Malfoy, and Rachel just swooped out of nowhere and grabbed the Quaffle from Warrington, it was awesome! And everyone started screaming, and she went for the goal, and Bletchley was watching you too, and she put it right past him, maybe a second before you got the Snitch! He never even saw her! Harry, we won, we won!"

Harry stood, hardly daring to believe it. Ron, Sam, Hailey, and Katie were all shouting like mad. He saw Rachel, looking ecstatic and wide-eyed with disbelief, and trying to avoid being crushed under the advancing mass of wild Gryffindors. Lee Jordan was bellowing, without words, for delight into the magical megaphone. Hermione raced up to them, shrieking, "I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" over and over. Malfoy was screaming curses and starting to run across the field, but was held by Madame Hooch. Harry felt a smile tug at his lips and slowly spread, turning into a euphoric yell like everyone else's. Madame Hooch, after subduing the Slytherins, passed him the enormous Quidditch Cup. He made his way over to Rachel, who was being piled on by her teammates, and grabbed her wrist, thrusting her arm into the air and holding the Cup high above his head.

Chapter Nineteen

Wrong Impressions

By the time the jubilation of winning the Cup again had died down and Harry and Rachel could get to their classes on time, because they weren't being enclosed in a large pack of enamored Gryffindors, it was Easter break, which was not terribly peaceful. They were, as usual, laden with end-of-the-year-exam homework, even though, as many pointed out crossly, the exams were about two months away.

But Harry and the other sixth years stuck with it, it was still not quite as bad as the previous year. Ron teased Ginny relentlessly, much to her annoyance, which explained why he ended up in the hospital wing one day with an outsized cantaloupe beating him about the head.

Other than wrathful melons, April passed into May quite normally; Death Eater activity even slowed. Harry was not quite sure what to think about it, but was definitely relieved--for some reason the prophecy he had learned of last year was weighing particularly heavy on his mind.

The school entered its usual pre-examination mode; the library was chock-filled with students every evening and people stayed up late into the night, studying. The date of the exams was set for the first week of June. Near the middle of May, however, Harry became rather occupied with something else.

He still worried about the time, nearly two months ago now, when Parvati and Lavender had ambushed Rachel in the Great Hall. Harry thought it might look strange to some people, if they noticed--Rachel never spoke to any boy except him, Ron, and their friends. Did it look like she spent an unusual amount of time with him? He had nobody to judge by except Parvati and Lavender, and didn't want anything to happen to her because of him. Or happen to him because of Snape.... He decided to talk to her.

One balmy evening, Rachel was sitting near the back of the courtyard, just about half an hour before students had to be inside the castle. There were only a few other people there, near the lake, much too far off to hear them. His resolve was strengthened when he noticed a boy he thought was from Ravenclaw walk away from the tree she was sitting under, looking discouraged.

"Oh, hi, Harry," Rachel said glancing up from her book. "Nice night, isn't it?"

"Um... yeah," he said. "Uh, Rachel... who was that you were talking to?"

"Hm? Oh, just some guy from Ravenclaw. Jeremy something." She looked sideways at him. "Why?"

Harry took a breath. "The... the guy who asked Lavender Brown about you?"

She met his eyes, frowning slightly. "Yeah... so?"

"Uh... do you think... it seems kind of odd that you never see anyone? I mean," he added quickly, "I don't know, I'm asking your opinion..."

"No... no, I don't..." She was looking at him intensely. "Harry, what are you--trying to say?"

"Um... do you think we should see other people?" Rachel seemed taken aback, and he hurried to explain. "I don't mean really see them, you know, just... just so nobody will, you know... find out..."

"What?" she said, looking bewildered. "What's wrong... what did I do?"

"No, nothing," Harry said, his words tumbling out. This was not what he meant at all. "You didn't do anything..."

"Then--where did this come from?" She looked upset. Harry began to panic, he realized what he had sounded like and wished desperately he could take it back. He reached for her hand but she pulled it away.

"Rachel, that's not what I meant, please... I don't want to see anyone else, I was just...worried that it looked odd, or something..."

"Harry--if you had a problem or something, why didn't you talk to me?" She was clearly fighting to keep her voice down.

"I don't... I just don't want anyone to get suspicious, really..."

Rachel just stared at him strangely. Her eyes were overbright and she looked somewhat uncertain. Oh, no... did she not believe him? Suddenly, she swung her bag over her shoulder and strode away. Harry called out her name, but she didn't turn, or even slow down.

***

Harry tried to talk to Rachel often, but she always ignored him. He found himself going over their conversation in his mind; what on earth had he been thinking? Of course she panicked.... Finally, the week before exams started, he persuaded Hermione to speak to her.

"Harry, you just came out of nowhere and said you wanted to break up! Of course she didn't understand!" she hissed at him after Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I didn't want to break up with her! I was worried! For her, even!"

"Oh, I know, Harry, but..." she trailed off and Harry sighed heavily.

"I know what it sounded like."

He found it hard to concentrate on studying that evening. Rachel and Hermione were in their dormitory, supposedly practicing counterjinxes in peace. Finally, Hermione slipped into the seat next to him.

"She said she'll talk to you tomorrow, during lunch," she muttered, and began pulling out parchment to start an essay. "I told her about the Room of Requirement."

"Is she--"

Hermione shook her head for him to be quiet. He sighed again and supposed he would have to wait until tomorrow.

***

The next day at lunch, Harry told everyone he would be in the library and rushed to the seventh floor. He walked three times past a certain door, and found Rachel already there, along with two comfortable-looking chairs.

"Um... hi."

She looked up. Harry shut the door behind him and sat down.

"Listen... that day... I didn't..." He took a moment to gather his thoughts, until he realized words were rushing from his mouth again. "All I meant was that I was worried about Parvati and Lavender. That's all. I... wanted to make sure we were, you know... safe. I mean, the way news travels in this school, your dad would overhear it somewhere in a second. And I just started to say something, and it came out-- totally the opposite of what I meant." He paused. Rachel's expression was unreadable.

"That's all," he said again. "Really, I'm--perfectly happy with... with you... I just said something stupid." She looked up.

"Harry, it's not... you just walked up to me and said you thought we should see other people, and I thought I had done something, or--you wanted somebody else, or... I don't know. It was confusing, and--scary. I didn't know what was going on."

"Rachel, really, that's not what I meant! I didn't... think, I was nervous. I want--I want to be with you..." he said quietly. His face flushed slightly, he felt a bit awkward but looked her in the eye. "Really..."

The smallest smile appeared on Rachel's face. "Well, you do worry too much..."

Harry was enormously relieved.

"Do you want to go to lunch?" she said. "I think it's only about halfway through..."

They walked back to the Great Hall together, but split up so they wouldn't enter at the same time. When they were both at the table and nobody was listening, Hermione whispered to them,

"Are you two-- alright?" Harry glanced at Rachel cautiously. She was talking to Ginny with a grin on her face.

"I think so," he murmured back, as Seamus turned to Ron and offered him some cantaloupe.