Awakenings
Chapter 10 — The Main Game
By Lady Alchymia
Author Notes:
My special thanks to Vix'thra and Anaknisatanas for beta'ing the last few chapters (and the next!).
It was Sunday afternoon of the Potterfest weekend and the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was overflowing with members and guests. Mad-Eye Moody stood vigil at the poolroom door, regulating traffic to avoid waking up Mrs Black. Seamus rushed into the room then backtracked, seemingly having forgotten something.
"Either you’re in or you’re out!" Moody growled, grabbing Seamus by the scruff of the neck.
"Sorry, Mad-Eye — only be a sec," called Seamus, slipping from his grasp.
"That’s Professor Mad-Eye to you, Sonny!" grumbled Moody, looking quite harried. "Teenagers!" he snorted. "Give me Death Eaters any day!"
The Ravenclaw boys cornered Harry, eager to examine the photos he’d brought downstairs. Anthony, Michael, and Terry’s looks of gleeful anticipation faded the longer they flicked at speed through the happy snaps. Harry hid a smile and ambled off; he had already carefully extracted the most interesting shots.
"Harry!" Hestia Jones cried, beckoning him over. "Just the young man I wanted to see!" She tugged a black-haired witch towards them. "Gwenog, this is our young man! Harry, may I introduce my sister Gwenog?"
Harry happily shook hands with the Holyhead Harpies captain. "Thank you so much for coming! It’s just fantastic!"
"My pleasure," Gwenog said easily, her grip strong but not overbearing, "and Happy Birthday!"
Before Harry could reply, Oliver dashed up to them.
"Gwenog!" he cried, pumping her hand. "This is an unexpected delight!" His face fell when he noticed her Quidditch kit bag. "Er, Gwenog?"
The Harpies’ captain just smiled sweetly and nodded hello to Viktor, who had ambled over to join them.
"Can’t let the PU boys have all the fun," she said, "now can we?"
Struck quite dumb, Oliver’s eyes widened in horror as Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared on Viktor’s other side, casually slapping a Beater’s bat against the palm of his hand. Charlie and Tonks lined up, as well. Oliver sputtered incoherently for a full minute before turning to the room.
"GRYFFINDOR! CHANGE ROOM! NOW!!!"
Fred and George had managed to forget to reveal just how many quality players would be lining up for Viktor’s Vultures. Viktor Krum, Gwenog Jones, and Charlie Weasley were enough to give any opposition captain shivers.
"Oliver, calm down, please!" begged Alicia, trying to catch the Keeper as he stormed around the changing room.
Oliver spun on Fred and George.
"Kids and olds, you said!" he said, nodding to them, a wild look in his eyes. "Aye, aye, just a friendly, you said! I CANNA LOSE TO A HARPIE!"
Working together, the team finally managed to calm Oliver down a little, Fred surreptitiously casting a light Cheering Charm on his captain. Oliver insisted on creating a complex game strategy — well, as best he could between occasional hysterical giggling fits — and rapidly dissected the strengths and weaknesses of the opposition. The Vultures’ Keeper was most obvious weak spot. Harry felt bad for Ron; he was sure his best mate would have been playing for Viktor but for the small matter of sicking ten-thousand blowflies on him. Instead, the coveted position went to the inexperienced Padma Patil. Oliver conjured a three-dimensional model of a Quidditch pitch, complete with tiny fliers, and sent them attacking and counter-attacking each other with maniacal relish.
Angelina critically examined her own little action figure. "My bum is not that big!"
Oliver let out a strangled cry and a vein throbbed in his temple Harry thought would have done Uncle Vernon proud. Fred hastily assured Oliver they were taking the game in Harry’s back yard very seriously, indeed. Oliver, accepting the assurance at face value, slowly began to calm down, but he would continue to strategise right up until game time.
Passing through the noisy bar, Harry was startled by the number of members. Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey generously provided their services, but Harry wasn’t sure if that meant they were members. Mundungus was hustling the room, taking bets on the game. Madam Amelia Bones and Professor Minerva McGonagall, sharing a private wager and a couple of large Sherries, had taken seats on either side of Lee Jordan on the poolroom balcony — and Lee didn’t look at all happy with the arrangements. Both women were armed with what Harry hoped were fake Beaters’ bats. Harry gamely knelt down beside his Head of House for a quiet word, but although she wished him a hearty Happy Birthday, she wouldn’t bend on the one-pet rule. He could bring a snake for a pet but not an owl as well. Harry expected as much but felt it was worth a shot.
Flying out into the pitch, he did a sweep of the tall grandstands, smiling to his friends congregated in adjoining towers: one for Gryffindor and one for Vultures. Wearing screeching animal hats scored from Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle, the DA members were all cheering and dancing in the stands to music Lee was pounding out across the ground.
Pre-game nerves finally caught up with Harry, and when George swept close to shake his hand before the game, Harry inadvertently cut him and kept flying. Oliver called his team together. Harry avoided George’s eye. In truth, he was more embarrassed than angry by now. Oliver carefully appraised each player inside the scarlet and gold huddle, but for once he couldn’t seem to think of anything to say and just stuck his hand into the centre of the huddle. The rest of the team followed suit, gripping hand over hand, before chanting as one the Gryffindor team motto: Fortune favours the brave!
"AND THEY’RE OFF LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Lee roared into his megaphone. "Charlie Weasley takes the Quaffle. Has the old Gryffindor Seeker got what it takes to Chase? He dodges a Bludger from brother Fred. Passes to Smith. Back to Charlie. Charlie enters goals ... HE SHOOTS! ... WOOD BLOCKS! Recovers Quaffle ... Passes off to Spinnet. Gryffindor Chasers forming up ... Looks like a Hawkshead ... Nice and tight — a real babe sandwich ... OW! Sorry, Professor ... OUCH! Not you, too, Madam Bones! All right already! OH, HERE WE GO! Jones sends a mighty Bludger through the Hawkshead … Spinnet spins out of danger … Jones belts a second Bludger to Potter … He ducks just in time … JOHNSON SHOOTS! ... SHE SCORES! LIONS TEN — VULTURES NIL!"
The crowd roared for the goal, and Harry corkscrewed away from Gwenog, spinning down to catch up with Viktor again. Viktor appeared unperturbed by his hanger on and continued scanning the pitch for the Golden Snitch, effortlessly swooping this way and that. Accelerating, he pulled away a little and Harry relaxed into his wake. Tonks, looking wonderfully strange with spiky pink hair above a real vulture’s face, took a shot at goals. Oliver executed a stylish save.
"NICE!" Lee called out. "You don’t see the Starfish defence every day."
Gwenog Jones was all over the Gryffindor Chasers, masterfully maintaining control of the Bludgers. Fred and George defended the girls when they could, putting their bats and bodies on the line, but they had their own orders from Oliver: keep Krum off the Snitch!
"WHOA! That Harpie’s everywhere!" Lee called, as Jones cleared another path for her own Chasers. "Smith enters goals ... No — it’s a feint! Offloads over the shoulder to Charlie — Wood’s caught napping! … THE DRAGON TAMER SCORES!"
All around the ground, vultures shrieked and lions growled. Furious, Oliver hurled the Quaffle back to Madam Hooch and play resumed. A glint of gold flashed past the Seekers and Viktor darted away from Harry, but Harry anticipated the shift and took Krum’s air space, forcing the Bulgarian to foul him.
"KRUM FOULS THE SEEKER!" cried Lee. "PENALTY TO LIONS!"
Angelina converted the penalty against a frightened Padma. The Seekers continued sweeping the pitch, but the Snitch was long gone. Viktor started making more of an effort to lose Harry and the twins. The twins struggled but Harry clung to Viktor like Stinksap.
Viktor glanced back at him and called out with a crooked smile, "I think you verse than Bruce!"
Harry grinned back at him and continued dogging Viktor’s increasingly erratic moves. Meanwhile, Katie sped towards the Vultures’ goals. Gwenog accelerated and swept a bludger timed to arrive ahead of Katie’s path then hurtled forward to backhand it into the girl’s side. Fred suddenly reared between the fliers, deflecting the bludger into Padma, giving Padma a bloody nose and Katie time to score another goal.
"LIONS THIRTY — VULTURES TEN!" cried Lee.
As the game progressed, Harry found it harder to stay in touch with Krum. Viktor, on the other hand, didn’t seem nearly as stretched as Harry would’ve liked. Harry wiped the sweat from his brow and dug deeper, trying to anticipate Viktor’s moves. He swerved too close and Viktor caught him off guard. Something Madam Hooch’s eagle eyes did not miss.
"FOUL!" Lee cried. "Potter pinned for Blatching Krum! Penalty to Vultures: Potter flying with intent to collide."
Viktor chuckled and sped away, Harry in close pursuit. Weaving through the other players, the Seekers were largely oblivious to the rest of the game. At first, Harry couldn’t understand why Jones wasn’t going after him, then he twigged that the Vultures knew, just as well as the Gryffindors did, that they couldn’t afford to let the Lions get more than one hundred and fifty points ahead. Far from being beaten bloody by the opposition’s mighty Beaters, Harry was more or less ignored, which suited him just fine. Harry followed his captain’s orders, dogging Viktor and scoring five more penalty shots for Gryffindor. The first four were converted by his Chasers. Alicia lined up to take the fifth.
"Spinnet powers towards the lovely young Ravenclaw," called Lee. Cheers and stomping feet resounded around the ground. "Spinnet fires, aim looks good, but Patil — yes — she dodges back and — EXCELLENT SAVE!"
Vulture shrieks exploded all around the ground — along with a lone, piercing howl.
"OHO!" Lee cried blissfully. "Patil earns a rare Harpie Howler from Jones! A huge compliment to the beautiful young Keeper! Anyone else get turned on by that? OW! Sorry, Professor. HEY! Madam Bones! Quit ganging up on me!"
Harry wished he could risk a glance to see what was happening to Lee on the balcony, but Viktor, who had given away fifty points in penalties to Harry, decided it was time to get shake off his annoying little tag-along. The Bulgarian drew Harry high above the pitch before falling into a tearing dive.
"WRONSKI!" Lee screamed. "CAN ANYONE SEE THE SNITCH?"
Both Seekers knew there was no Snitch at the end of the dive, but Harry could not afford to lose touch with Viktor and hurtled madly after him. Slipping inside the other Seeker’s wake, Harry just barely managed to keep up. The Gryffindor Beaters had no chance. When Viktor pulled up just above ground level, Harry dodged out of view then back. Struggling to stay in control at such speed, Fred fell back and George ploughed into the grass. Viktor glanced around, initially pleased, but then very annoyed to find Harry still on his tail. Viktor dodged and weaved, but Harry had a few sneaky moves, too, and when Lee announced another Gryffindor goal, Viktor scowled deeply and roared to his Beaters.
"TAKE OUT SEEKER!"
Harry flew even closer to Viktor, figuring he’d at least have cover from in front. The extra training he’d received from Remus and Viktor had been helping him all game, but now it came into play more than ever as Viktor made a concerted effort to lose his annoying little parasite. Harry risked a glance to the scoreboard: one-hundred-and-fifty to ten. They just needed two more goals before Harry was allowed to go on the offensive for the Snitch! A sudden roar erupted from the stands but nothing happened that Harry could see.
"Yes, folks," Lee cried gleefully, "we just hit the one-hour mark! Sorry, Dung!"
Harry took advantage of the distraction to creep closer to Viktor, coming up on his left flank, just in time, too, as a Bludger from nowhere scraped the tail of Harry’s broom. With an amiable wave to Gwenog, Viktor glanced left then dodged right, broke and reversed, wrong-footing Harry and gaining an immediate ten-yard break. Harry swore under his breath; he was now wide open to attack. Both of the Vulture’s black-robed Beaters grinned evilly and circled Harry, fast and menacingly. Trapped, Harry dodged madly this way and that trying to evade them as they traded Bludgers, with him as piggy-in-the-middle.
"Yes, ladies and gentlemen," Lee called, "the Vultures are circling!" Groans echoed around the stands, but Lee laughed. "What? Come on, you knew I had to slip that in!"
Harry got a break past Kingsley but couldn’t lose Gwenog; she anticipated his every move. Too many of her precision Bludgers found their target, connecting three times with Harry’s right shoulder.
"JOHNSON SCORES!" cried Lee. "YOU LITTLE RIPPER! LIONS ONE-SIXTY — VULTURES TEN!"
Come on girls, Harry begged silently, just one more goal!
"Vultures with possession ..." Lee said. "Charlie’s got the Quaffle ... to Smith — to Tonks — to Charlie ... CHARLIE’S HIT! ... Nasty blow to the knee. Manages to offload to Smith ... Jones sends a howling Bludger into Wood ... Wood’s hit! NO!" Lee wailed. "OW! Madam Bones! I mean, er, Smith scores. Well done, Vultures."
Vultures all around the ground shrieked in ecstasy. The teens’ towers shook perilously, wild cheers bellowing from both stands. Harry groaned; Gryffindor were now only one-forty ahead again; time to get desperate. He flew hard and fast straight towards Kingsley. The two-hundred-pound Auror tried to get out of his way, but Harry was too quick. He was already pulling clear when Kingsley reflexively swiped at him in self-defence, his bat connecting hard with Harry’s shoulder.
"PENALTY TO LIONS!" cried Lee. "BEATING WITH INTENT! … Bell lines up the penalty … Oooh, nice try by Patil, but Gryffindor converts another penalty. Lions now one-fifty ahead. Interesting manoeuvre from Potter. Is that boy a glutton for punishment or what? HEY! Will you quit thumping me, Professor? ... What do you mean you’ve been wanting to do this for years?"
Distracted, Harry ducked one Bludger from Gwenog Jones only to have a cannon-like second slam into his knee with a sickening crunch, knocking him straight off his Firebolt. The crowd screamed and Harry grabbed madly at the air rushing through his flailing robes. Then something whacked him from behind and snagged his wrist, halting his fall. Dangling, one-armed, Harry felt something crack and screamed in agony. The rest of his nightmare came true when he realised who caught him. He loosed another scream mixed with pain and frustration.
"GET OFF!" he roared, twisting irrationally, only succeeding in further damaging his shoulder.
George’s grin faded but he didn’t let go until Harry was only a few feet above the ground. Then he released the Seeker and swept across the grass to recover his fallen Firebolt. Harry scrambled after him — or tried to. His leg gave way and he was obliged to hop on one foot, his bad shoulder drooping, waiting for George to double back.
"Give it here!" he muttered, grabbing at the Firebolt, but George didn’t let go.
The few moments they stood there, each with a hand on the broom, seemed to last forever. The game and crowds roared on far above them, quite ignored. George moistened his lips and tipped his head slightly towards the grandstands.
"Girls," he offered.
Harry couldn’t have said it more eloquently.
"I — er — I might have been trying to wind you up last night," George confessed.
A crooked smile wriggled onto Harry’s face. It was all he needed to hear. Girls came and went; mates were mates forever.
"S’okay," he said, "she thought you were Fred."
"JOHNSON SCORES!" cried Lee.
George and Harry loosed matching whoops of joy; Gryffindor was one-sixty ahead! A surge of adrenaline helped Harry take flight. Forgetting the pain, he stopped chasing Krum and turned to chasing the Golden Snitch! The twins were now completely ignoring Krum, too, but it didn’t matter. As long as Gryffindor stayed far enough ahead, it made no difference at all if Krum took the Snitch. George belted a Bludger through the Vulture’s Chasers, and the crowd gasped as Tonks spiralled wildly downwards, blood spurting freely from above one black vulture-eye.
"OOOH," Lee cried sympathetically. "That’s gotta hurt! But the old Hufflepuff’s hanging on. Legend. Bad pass to Smith — recovered by Charlie ... Will you look at that carrot-topped Vulture fly! Bung knee and all! Jones sends a Bludger into George ... Gets him in the back. It’s getting’ bloody, ladies and gentlemen. And about time, too!" Lee roared happily. "OW! What did I say?"
Harry spared a glance towards the vicious melee of Chasers fighting over the Quaffle; the Vultures were getting way too much possession! Gryffindor could not afford to lose its lead! Corkscrewing through the players, Harry narrowly ducked another Bludger from Gwenog. Fred appeared from nowhere to wallop it into Kingsley. More Bludgers whizzed past Harry’s ears. He was dimly aware of the roaring crowd, but his thoughts were fixed on just one tiny thing.
"OHO! Potter’s seen something!" yelled Lee.
The Golden Snitch raced higher and higher then changed tack. Harry broke hard and raced after it, swearing furiously; it was heading straight towards Viktor! Fred pelted a bludger towards him. Krum effortlessly eluded the Bludger. The crowd, on their feet, now, howled the Seekers on. Fred and George doubled up on Viktor, slowing him down but only slightly.
"CHARLIE SCORES!" screamed Lee. "LIONS ONE-EIGHTY — VULTURES THIRTY! WILL KRUM GO FOR A TIE? JOHNSON TAKES THE QUAFFLE — TO BELL — TO SPINNET — BACK TO JOHNSON ..."
The Seekers were neck and neck, speeding around the pitch, flying low over the thrilled spectators, twisting madly through the grandstand towers. Kingsley belted a Bludger towards Harry. Harry dodged just in time.
"SHACKLEBOLT TAKES OUT HIS OWN SEEKER!" Lee bellowed gleefully.
Viktor wasn’t out of action long. All too soon, Harry could feel him hot on his tail and steadily accelerating. Keeping Viktor on his right, Harry held on with everything he had. Viktor drew ahead, his hand outstretched. He banked slightly to the left, but Harry was ready and blocked him, buying his Chasers a crucial few extra seconds. The crowd roared just before Viktor’s hand closed on the Golden Snitch.
"SPINNET SCORES!" Lee screamed. "KRUM TAKES THE SNITCH! BUT IT’S TOO LATE! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"
The arena exploded into life: animals screeching, hats flying, and grandstands rocked. Spectators shot wand sparks and silver arrows high and wide over the pitch. Viktor and Harry drifted to a mid-air stop and slumped tiredly over their broom handles.
"Chudesen," Viktor rasped with a crooked grin, swiping the back of his hand across his bloody face. "Good game!" he declared, pressing the Golden Snitch into Harry’s hand. "I think you belong to this!" Viktor clapped the young Seeker on the back. "Maybe even you do play for England some day!"
His eyes shining, Harry closed trembling fingers on the bloodied, fluttering ball. He was never, ever going to wash this Snitch.
By the time he and Viktor landed on the grass, Madam Pomfrey was already tending the wounded. Harry, grinning from ear to ear, fell off his Firebolt and collapsed, utterly spent, flat on his back. His bruised and bloodied teammates collapsed, laughing and cheering, on top of him. Harry grunted in pain, barely able to draw breath. The other players finally rolled off long enough to drag Harry to his feet. Harry weaved unsteadily for about three seconds before he was crash-tackled by the rest of his friends pelting across the pitch.
"An hour-fifty!" Ron crowed, pulling Harry back to his feet to pump his hand. He slapped him on the shoulder and merrily declared, "Five Galleons, I won!"
Harry nodded dazedly and tried to breathe through the pain. He spotted Remus and stumbled over to him.
"Moony! Did you see my Wronski?" he demanded breathlessly, clutching at the man’s robes for support. "And my dodge? Did you see the look on Viktor’s face? He had no idea where I was! Did you see?"
"I saw!" Remus laughed, pulling him into a hug. "You did great!"
Harry collapsed into his guardian’s shoulder, content to just lean there a moment. Then he lifted his eyes and spotted Alicia being held aloft by the twins.
"You’re a legend, Ali!" he called out happily. "I was so relieved when she scored," he said to Remus, puffing. "I just couldn’t hold him off any longer! Don’t lose these!"
Harry shoved the Snitch and his Firebolt into Remus’s hands before stumbling off to find Cho — and score a nice big congratulatory kiss! He just reached her when someone suddenly turned off the Sun.
Nervous giggles flitted around the blackened pitch then yelps of delight. A single scarlet and gold phoenix erupted from the middle of the pitch. The phoenix grew larger and larger until it exploded in a rush of magical flames, crumbled into ashes then started all over again. Standing with Viktor, Bill, and Fleur, Cho gasped and giggled inside Harry’s arms. He snuggled close behind her and kissed her cheek, watching her upturned face reflecting green, gold, and red, as different fireworks passed overhead. Cold with sweat, he started growing light-headed and tried hard to push back the mounting pain in his neck.
"If only Cedric were here," Cho remarked sadly into the sparkling dark, "then we’d have all four Tri-Wizard Champions."
Sharp gasps sounded. Nausea rose in Harry's chest and he staggered backwards, colliding painfully with Viktor. A dragon roared past and exploded in an extravagant display of blinding green light. Laughter pounded in Harry’s ears. Someone grabbed at him, and he collapsed in agony, his glasses falling to the ground. Clutching at the grass, his eyes darted around the graveyard. More Death Eaters grabbed at him; he frantically fought them off. Where was his wand! A tall young man was shaking him; golden light flared over the man’s hair.
"Ced — Cedric?" rasped Harry, dizzy with pain and nausea. He lunged at the man’s robes and whispered feverishly, "You have to get out of here!"
"Harry! It’s Bill," said the young man, shaking him again, "Bill Weasley."
His mind addled with pain, Harry shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to focus on the man’s face.
"Bill?" he repeated dazedly.
Bill nodded with relief. He and Viktor tried to pull Harry to his feet, but Harry collapsed again, crying out and clutching his shoulder. Fingers probed his body. Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry tried to breathe through the pain. Bill issued quick orders. Harry thought he heard Fleur yelling at someone in a fast and furious mixture of French and English. The next thing he knew, he was being floated through the crowd on a stretcher.
"He’ll be fine," he heard Bill say gruffly to the voices around him. "He’s just in shock — looks like he busted his collar-bone in the game."
Harry opened his eyes just long enough to see his Remus striding along beside him. Then he passed out.
Harry awoke to find Madam Pomfrey standing over him, a familiar look of resignation on her face as she waved some kind of brass looking-glass over his body. Harry tried to gain his bearings. He was in his bedroom, lying on his bed, stripped to the waist. Frank dangled overhead, peering down intently. Remus and Bill were there, too. Harry winced inwardly; had he called the man Cedric?
"Harry?" murmured the school nurse. "Just lie still. There’s a good lad. Almost done."
"How are you feeling?" Remus asked him.
"Fine," Harry lied. Madam Pomfrey grunted her opinion of that. "Bit sore," Harry admitted, "bit groggy." He tried to sit up. Madam Pomfrey pushed him firmly back down.
"Fifteen more minutes before you even think of moving, Mr Potter! I’ll just be down in the changing rooms if you need me."
"Is Tonks okay?" asked Harry.
"Yes, dear," she said, patting his good shoulder. "I just need to see to Mr Shacklebolt’s thigh — he’s the last. He’s in quite a mess, but he insisted you be treated before him."
"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, smiling weakly. "Don’t know what I’d do without you."
Poppy Pomfrey blushed slightly, mumbled that it was nothing, and urged the young man to consider taking up a less brutal sport.
"Remus?" prompted Bill. "Why don’t you go with Madam Pomfrey — see how Kingsley’s doing?"
Remus seemed reluctant until Bill tipped his head meaningfully back towards Harry.
"Ah ... okay," Remus agreed, playing along. "Just give a shout if you need me."
Once they were alone, Bill reached for Harry’s discarded Quidditch robe and draped it over him to keep him warm then conjured a wooden chair from thin air. Facing it the wrong way, he straddled the chair and crossed his arms casually over the backrest to be eye-to-eye with the boy.
"Harry —" started Bill.
"Look, I’m sorry," Harry cut in miserably. "I know Cedric is dead. Everyone must think I’m mental."
"No, no," Bill said quickly, "not at all. Older and wiser heads than yours have been caught unawares by flashbacks — those green dragons kind of freaked me out, too."
Harry sucked in a breath. Bill offered him a sad half-smile.
"I was eleven," he said quietly. "There was an attack in broad daylight in Diagon Alley — this was in the first war of course — summer before you were attacked. Mum took me down to get school supplies. I was well-excited. We weren’t allowed out much in those days. A dozen Death Eaters staged an attack — right outside Fred and George’s shop, now I think of it. Never saw anything like it. It was like the very air turned green. Bodies everywhere, and not just adults but little kids — babies — they weren’t choosy. People were screaming — getting trampled. I lost Mum running for cover. She was hysterical when she found me. It was over in minutes but seemed to go on forever, you know?"
Harry said nothing, but Bill didn’t seem to expect an answer.
"So you saw the green light," Bill prompted leadingly, "and before that?"
Harry hesitated.
"Cho?" Bill suggested delicately, seemingly reading Harry’s mind. "She was talking about Cedric being missing from the Tri-Wizard Champions."
Harry conceded a small, miserable nod.
"I don’t know if she does it on purpose or not," he said slowly, not meeting Bill’s eyes, "but whenever she drops a remark about Cedric, it sends me straight back to the graveyard where I was tortured."
Frank hissed sharply; Bill wasn’t looking much happier.
"She has to stop doing that, Harry," Bill said firmly.
"I know," Harry agreed tiredly, "it’s not — I dunno — I know it’s not good for me." When Bill made no further comment, Harry voiced a concern of his own. "I suppose everyone thinks I’ve gone nuts."
Bill smiled slightly. "No, actually, hardly anyone heard you. As I understand it, most of the talk is about how impressed they are with you for lasting more than an hour against Viktor — broken collarbone and all. You won a lot of bets for your friends — losing the Snitch and lasting over an hour. Dung’s moneybag must be pretty empty right about now. I think just Cho and Fleur heard you, maybe Viktor."
Deeply relieved, Harry remembered Fleur yelling at someone. "Fleur was furious?"
Bill snorted a half-laugh. "You could say that. She gave Cho quite a piece of her mind — in several languages, actually. I think there might have even been some Gobbledegook in there. You know, it’s hard for her, too, being reminded of Cedric. Viktor, too, I imagine. And anyway, Fleur’s always had quite a soft spot for you."
"What do you mean?" asked Harry.
"You saving Gabrielle in the Second Task," said Bill. "Her whole family thinks you’re just the bee’s knees."
Harry thought back to how stupid he felt after realising the other hostages in the lake wouldn’t have been harmed, that he could’ve just collected Ron and got back to the judges first. It was all tragically irrelevant now, but he was pleased, nonetheless, to have earned such good friends in Fleur and Viktor. It struck him, yet again, just how much trauma his friends had to deal with by being connected to him.
"I don’t know why my friends are so good to me," he said.
"Don’t you?" Bill said, cocking his head to one side.
Harry shrugged slightly and started to sit up, but a wave of nausea came over him.
"Easy there," said Bill.
Bill helped him off the bed and towards the bathroom. Frank, hissing anxious instructions, slithered down from the rafters to follow. Then Cho appeared from nowhere. Harry only just made it to the toilet before throwing up.
"I’ll get Madam Pomfrey!" she cried.
"No!" said Harry, coughing and sputtering. "No. I’m fine — fine!"
"Cho," Bill said firmly, "give us a minute, would you?"
"Of course," Cho said worriedly and retreated.
Behind the closed the bathroom door, Harry slumped over the side of the toilet bowl, the porcelain blessedly cool against his hot face. Then he realised, to his great chagrin, that he hadn’t actually made it completely into the bowl. Bill cleaned everything up, including his boots, and had Harry drink a good deal of water.
"Your colour’s looking better," Bill noted appraisingly. "Look, dinner’s not for an hour; just rest easy for a bit, okay?" The Curse-Breaker tipped his head towards the bathroom door and added in a whisper, "Do you want me to get rid of Cho for you?"
"Bless you!" Frank hissed gratefully.
Harry couldn’t help but laugh.
"No, it’s okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Thanks, Bill, I really appreciate you —" Harry shrugged awkwardly, "— you know, talking and stuff. It really helps."
"What are big brothers for?" Bill said easily. "Take care of yourself — okay?"
When Harry emerged from the bathroom, Cho jumped forward from her wingchair.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Betrayed, violated, defiled!"
"Cut it out, Frank," said Harry. He locked his snake in the bathroom before answering Cho. "Bit sore," he admitted, feeling akward, now, as he perched bare-chested on the armrest of a wingchair. "Madam Pomfrey fixed the broken bones."
Cho held up a tube of anti-inflammatory cream as a peace-offering. Armed with The Bludger’s Friend, she stood beside Harry and silently massaged the cream into his badly bruised shoulder. The silence between them thickened. Harry had just decided that being with Cho Chang really wasn’t worth all the drama when a rush of apologies came spilling from her lips. Harry was startled by how upset she was.
"What did Fleur say to you?" he asked, bewildered.
A fragile smile quivered on the girl’s lips. "A lot. I only understood half of it, but it was enough. She said you’d been tortured enough. She said you didn’t need to keep reliving one of the worst nights of your life."
Harry thought that pretty much covered it.
"Fleur said —" Cho started then faltered. "I didn’t realise you’ve been having nightmares, too. You always seem so …"
Cho’s voice trailed off and she started blinking a lot. Harry really wasn’t up for tears right now, but her apology seemed genuine.
"Look," he said evenly, "the night Cedric died — that night in the graveyard. I lost everything, Cho. I lost my future."
"And I keep taking you back there," Cho conceded miserably.
"It’s got to stop," he pleaded.
"It will, Harry," she said resolutely, standing taller somehow. "You’ve got to believe me!"
Harry was just really tired of talking about it. "Look, I can handle it from anyone else but not from you — not from you. Okay?"
"Never, I promise," she whispered earnestly. "Never."
Already weakening, Harry’s resolve to break up with the girl was dealt a fatal blow when her fingertips grazed his bare stomach, making him shiver. He tugged her into his chest and they were still kissing, slowly and deeply, when Remus tapped on the door and entered the room. The teens broke apart, swiping at their lips. Blushing, Cho quickly resumed massaging The Bludger’s Friend into Harry’s shoulder. Remus merely arched an eyebrow to the lad over the girl’s head.
"Good to see you’re feeling better, Harry," he offered pleasantly. "Cream helping?"
Harry nodded sheepishly, gratified that a quiet look between them was sufficient chastisement for being caught snogging Cho in his bedroom again. However pleasant Remus was being, Harry knew he wasn’t about to leave them alone.
"I saw you and Harry down in Diagon Alley the other day," Remus offered conversationally to Cho, as she worked on Harry’s shoulder. "Looked like you were having fun emptying the shops," he teased. He cast a disapproving eye towards his ward. "Though, I would’ve thought my boy here could’ve held your bags for you."
Cho rolled her eyes. "I’m afraid Harry was holding someone else’s bags that day."
Harry snorted appreciatively. With his foot firmly stuck in his mouth, Remus Lupin wisely elected to shut up.
"All done," Cho said a few moments later then gave Harry a chaste peck on the cheek. "Try to rest, okay?"
Smiling urbanely, Remus escorted her from the room.
"I’ll check in on you later, Harry," he called over his shoulder.
Of that, Harry had no doubt.
"Tell me you’re done with that woman!" Frank demanded the minute Harry reopened the bathroom door.
"It’s complicated, Frank," Harry said. "She’s been through a lot."
Frank sniffed disdainfully and Harry conceded a future with Cho might not really be such a great idea. Frank gasped in delight then clamped his mouth shut, seemingly not wanting to press his luck too far. Relaxing in the shower, Harry’s mind turned over the quandary that was Cho Chang. Was all the angst really worth it? The question was somewhat forgotten when his thoughts turned to contemplating that his bathtub really was big enough for two.
Remus returned to check on him as Harry was dressing for the feast. Proving himself a dab hand with a needle, Remus had already resized Harry’s old dress robes for him, and they now fit fairly well on his two-years-older frame.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Harry complained, holding up a cream cravat Fleur gave him for his birthday.
Remus chuckled. He loosely tied the cravat and used Sirius’s ruby pin to hold it in place. As before, when Harry closed his fingers around the ruby, affectionate feelings washed over him and an image of his father’s face flashed before his mind, his hazel eyes twinkling. Remus stood back to admire his handiwork.
"You look very dapper," he said approvingly.
They were halfway down to the ground floor when Remus nudged his boy in the side to look up. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a vision in red descending. Cho’s shiny black hair perfectly framed her creamy skin, her dark eyes, her blood-red lips ... Cho smiled shyly at him, and the lad swallowed, trying to remember ... something ... what was it he was supposed to remember?
Oh yeah, Cho — bad ... very bad ...
Slipping into the dining room with Cho on his arm, Harry marvelled again at the mysteries of Wizard Space. The room had somehow swelled in proportions and now sat eighty people where the usual capacity was only twenty. The room was beautifully lit with hundreds of scented candles, and there was a definite Fleur-ish feel with real roses and ivy climbing all over the walls. Beneath the portrait of Sirius’ great-grandfather, Hestia Jones was busy helping a group of tuxedo-clad chamber musicians climb from the music-box’s brass horn. Harry’s friends were concentrated at either end of the long table, whilst the more senior guests were clustered in the centre. Harry spied a spare seat between Padma Patil and Gwenog Jones. It occurred to him that getting a bit of space between him and Cho might not be such a bad idea; he never seemed to think too clearly when she was near. And it’d give him a chance to talk to his other friends.
"You want to be quick," he suggested, pointing out the seat to Cho. Cho eyed it longingly. "You can sit next to me any time. Go on, shoo."
Cho gave him a kiss on the lips before racing away. Dedalus Diggle caught Harry’s eye and raised his glass in salute, making wiping signs across his lips. Harry blushed and headed down the opposite end of the table, wiping Cho’s lipstick off on his sleeve along the way. He found a seat opposite Ron and Parvati and between Susan and Hannah. The girls all beamed at him. Parvati immediately stretched across and pulled his wrist towards her to check his mood. The stone was blue with a few fading streaks of red.
"Oooh, new colours!" Parvati cooed happily. "How do you feel?"
Harry shrugged. Parvati took this as an invitation to launch into a lengthy analysis of all the latest party gossip. Ron was busy gazing longingly at the platters of food, anxiously awaiting the signal to launch an attack on the roast lamb someone foolishly placed right in front of him. Parvati started talking about Divination and invited Ron’s opinion of Geomancy.
Ron shrugged. "Just a lot of throwing dirt around, if you ask me."
"Oh, I couldn’t agree more," Parvati enthused, leaning closer to him, "now entrails I can get into but dirt? No, thank you!" She proceeded to expound at length on gallstones and livers and seemed to take the dreamy look in Ron’s eyes as an indication of sharing her passion. Harry suspected Ron was actually picturing livers sautéed with onions and served with a nice red-wine sauce.
"Do you really inspect intestines and such in Divination?" Susan asked Harry, wincing at the idea.
"I expect they will," Harry replied, nodding towards Parvati and Ron. "I managed to fail," he confided in a low but decidedly cheerful, tone, "so I finally get to drop it."
"Will you pick up something else?" asked Susan.
"Like what?" Harry asked; he didn’t know you could pick up new subjects in sixth year.
"Oh, there’s a whole range of electives you can do if you don’t want to take all NEWT classes," Susan said happily. She leaned in a little and whispered, "The electives tend to be somewhat easier than NEWT subjects."
"Yeah?" Harry said interestedly; Hermione never mentioned non-NEWT subjects. "Such as?"
A bell tinkled and conversation around the long table stilled. After bowing to his guests, Remus offered a simple, yet sincere, welcome and invited them to commence eating. A happy commotion ensued as people piled their plates high.
"So, what kind of electives are there?" Harry asked Susan.
"Oh, there are so many!" she said. "There are extra branches of magical fungi and herbs, and ... Ah ... there’s one, I forget what it’s called, you do setting up magical protection zones, you know, like they did for the Quidditch World Cup. Then there’s magical first-aid, magical languages — although if you do Care of Magical Creatures at NEWT level, then you do already cover some of that material, though not in as much depth."
"Do they teach Parseltongue?" asked Harry.
"Going for an easy NEWT, are we?" said Susan teasingly. "I’ve never heard of it being taught. I guess you have to be born with it — like you were."
"Actually, I probably got it after I was born," admitted Harry. Dumbledore seemed to think he’d accidentally acquired the power from Voldemort when he was cursed.
"Really?" said Susan curiously. "When did you know?"
"When I was ten," replied Harry. Leaning closer, he confided he’d accidentally set a Brazilian Boa Constrictor on his cousin.
"You didn’t!" Susan whispered back, delighted. "Was he okay?"
"Oh yeah, the snake was fine," Harry assured her, and Susan laughed.
Harry smiled back at her. Tonight the girl’s hair was out of its usual long plait and fell in curls down her back, held off her face with small gold bands. The colour of her hair seemed to change a bit when she moved — between dark-red and gold, like the flickering candlelight around them. Susan had very clear hazel eyes, regular features, and full pink lips that went rather twisted when she was thinking. Harry thought she was quite pretty, really. She wasn’t a drop-dead knockout like Cho or the Patil twins, just a normal, nice-looking girl, but she seemed to light up somehow when she smiled.
"You look very pretty tonight," Harry said politely. "I like your hair out like that," he added, waving his hand a bit, "and the gold bits."
Susan’s cheeks pinked and she smiled shyly into her goblet.
"Thank you very much. Lavender did it for me."
Harry just smiled back at her; it occurred to him that paying girls compliments seemed to be getting both easier and more productive.
"Anyway," she continued, reaching for a piece of crackling, "they teach Mermish and a few other languages. But it really depends on which teachers the school can find to provide instruction. I’m just praying they can find a Light Arts teacher this year; Professor Dumbledore said they might have one lined up; they haven’t offered that subject in years."
"What’s Light Arts?" Harry asked, imagining something like Cheering Charms.
"Oh, it’s just the most amazing subject," Susan gushed, waving her crackling in the air, "they teach magic in art, music, sculpture ..."
"Yeah?" Harry said musingly. "I wouldn’t mind doing something like that."
"Oh, you absolutely should! Your drawings are just beautiful!"
Harry listened contentedly as Susan launched into an enthusiastic description of the course curriculum for Light Arts. He became oddly distracted by the way a stray curl of her hair kept bouncing against her cheek. He found himself itching to reach out and tug the curl just to see if it was a soft as it looked.
"... so then they had to rebuild the whole thing," Susan explained with a resigned shrug.
"Sorry?" asked Harry, having lost track of the conversation. "Oh, right."
"Are you still going on about Light Arts?" Justin said, from the other side of Susan. "She won’t shut up about it," he said, throwing Harry a sympathetic grin.
Susan glared at Justin then laughed. "Well, it’s exciting. There’s so much to learn!"
Justin slung his arm casually around Susan’s chair and whispered something in her ear. They both laughed and Susan shook her head and pushed him away. Not wanting to intrude, Harry turned his attention to Hannah’s side. The conversation bubbled over with the usual well-travelled subjects of Quidditch, school gossip, music, summer concerts, and such, but Harry went a bit quiet; he couldn’t stop thinking about Sirius. How dearly Harry wished he could be here with them. After awhile, Harry caught Susan watching him push his food around his plate.
"You don’t seem to be very hungry tonight," she remarked.
Harry made an effort to smile.
"Just saving some leftovers for Frank. I’m gonna need to break it to him that I can’t take him to school."
Harry explained his two-pet dilemma to Susan, and she added a choice piece of crackling to Frank’s treat. She looked as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.
"What?" Harry prompted curiously.
"Well, it’s just ..." she started, "well, I mean — if you want — I could take him for you." Harry looked at Susan in surprise and she quickly backtracked. "Of course, you probably don’t want —"
"No," Harry said at once, "that would be brilliant, but are you sure you’d want to do that? Haven’t you got a pet already?"
"Sort of," Susan admitted. She sneaked a glance towards the power players in the middle of the table and continued in a whisper, "When I started at Hogwarts, my auntie gave me a toad." Susan rolled her eyes at the look of glee on Harry’s face. "Don’t even go there," she warned him. "Anyway, I’d much rather have Frank’s company than Gilderoy’s."
Harry burst out laughing. On seeing the look of mortification on Susan’s face, he waved his hands in apology and said, "No, sorry — sorry, truly." Then a grin sneaked back onto his face. "But come on — seriously — Gilderoy?"
Susan looked rather pretty when she blushed, and Harry had to push down the urge to think of something else to say to make her go all pink-cheeked again.
"Right," he said, "well, if you could take Frank, that’d be fantastic for me. Of course, I’d take care of his food and all, but are you sure you wouldn’t mind? It’s a big imposition."
"Not at all," Susan assured him. "But do you think Frank would mind?"
"Frank?" said Harry. "Are you kidding? He’s totally in love with you! He’s been singing your praises all weekend!"
Susan laughed at that.
"What is it about me?" she said, shaking her head. "I attract snakes and toads. I swear I’m going to die an old maid surrounded by reptiles. I’ll be the snake lady of Hogsmeade and live in the Shrieking Shack and frighten away small children."
Harry nodded solemnly. "Always good to have a plan."
Susan smiled into her goblet of peach nectar.
"So, what’s your plan, Harry?" she said.
"Ah — well," said Harry, "see, I thought I’d raise werewolf cubs. Huge growth industry. I’ll raise them and farm them out to be guardians for orphans. Seriously, they absolutely make the best guardians. But I’d need the Shrieking Shack, so we might have to share."
Susan nodded approvingly. "I’m sure we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."
Hannah gasped fearfully.
"Is that wise?" she said. "Wouldn’t that be very dangerous?"
Susan gazed fondly at her blue-eyed, blonde friend.
"We’ll be very careful," she said, reaching across Harry to pat Hannah’s hand. "Won’t we, Harry?"
"Oh, absolutely," Harry assured her.
"Oooh, you’ve gone green!" Susan said curiously, noticing Harry’s moodstone. "Is that good or bad?"
"Good," Harry declared firmly.
Parvati’s ears picked up and she stretched across the table to inspect the moodstone.
"I cannot believe this thing has picked your moods so fast!" she said. "It’s only been three days; it usually takes months!"
"He’s only got two moods," sniggered Ron, "pissed and more pissed."
"How’s Bruce doing, Ron?" Harry asked sweetly. "Launched any more hives lately?"
"Was that your doing?" Parvati asked Ron, sounding appalled — but also a little impressed.
Ron puffed up a little, but his reply was interrupted by the tinkling of the dinner bell. Wands came out all over the table and dirty dishes and platters began to disappear. Harry quickly grabbed Frank’s treat as the table tidied itself in preparation for the dessert course. Arthur Weasley rose, and Hestia waved to the musicians to stop playing. The musicians looked rather miffed and collected sulkily in a corner of the room, glowering. Sitting through birthday toasts from the members, Harry did his obligatory smiles and nods in all the right places. Then it was Remus’s turn.
"Good evening again," Remus said when the room quieted down. "With your indulgence, Harry and I would like to make a special toast this evening to someone who was very important to both of us. I am, of course, speaking of our dear friend Sirius Black."
All around the room, sympathetic faces turned towards Remus and Harry, including the DA members, who’d discovered only recently the truth about Sirius Black.
"I met Sirius as a schoolboy, as many new friends do, on the Hogwarts Express." Remus looked fondly down the table to Harry. "Even at eleven years old anyone could’ve told you he was a danger to any shred of dignity you might hold dear. By the end of that first train ride I learned more about hexes than ... well ... anyway, you can just imagine things got even more disconcerting when James Potter and Sirius Black joined forces." Melancholic smiles drifted around the table as Remus toyed sadly with his goblet. "Quite simply, that devilish duo made my life worth surviving. Sirius was the truest of friends, and I miss him dearly.
"I shan’t speak of the tragedy of Sirius’s false imprisonment," continued Remus, his voice growing even more hoarse than usual, "nor of a life less lived. I should prefer to tell you of the joy he felt when he found his boy again. I know Harry felt the same way about his godfather; they truly belonged to each other; when one was in peril, nothing could long keep the other from his side."
Harry’s throat tightened. He reflexively fingered Sirius’s ruby cravat pin and felt a surge of warmth and comfort. Remus smiled sadly and motioned for Harry to rise. Harry stood tall and proud, lifting his goblet as Remus made the toast in a voice thick with emotion.
"He whom the gods love, dies young. Rest in peace, Sirius."
All the guests rose and joined in repeating the toast. Harry looked around, heartened to see everyone standing up for Sirius. The musicians formed a brief huddle then a pianist emerged and played a haunting movement from Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Conversation resumed, quietly at first, then rose to a steady hum. Susan placed a comforting hand on Harry’s arm.
"Are you okay," she said in a voice only he could hear.
Harry looked down at the girl’s hand, at her long slim fingers, so gentle on the piano, and offered the slightest of nods. Susan gave his arm a warm squeeze before pulling her hand away and changing the topic.
"I hope you don’t mind, Harry," she said lightly, "but I’ve been using your piano every chance I can get this weekend."
"Really?" Harry said. "Of course, you’re very welcome to. Do you not have one at home?"
Susan shook her head. "I go to my Great-Great Aunt Esmerelda’s to play."
Harry grimaced sympathetically. "Let me guess: cats and doilies?"
Susan laughed a little. "And stale biscuits — yeah."
Harry was just about to offer his own piano for her to practice on during the holidays, rather liking the idea of having someone playing it, but their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of dozens of incoming friendlies. Molly Weasley and a few helpers floated the desserts into the room and set them gently circulating a foot above the table. Before Harry could take a bite of his treacle tart, he noticed Professor Dumbledore rising to his feet. The boy groaned inwardly. With no chance of escape, he forced a polite expression onto his face and waited resignedly for his punishment for having been born.
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had style; no one could deny that. Resplendent in magnificently embroidered robes of gold and blue, his speech was similarly embroidered with fine compliments for the Boy-Who-Lived, but then his words grew less flowery, his tone more confidential.
"I knew when Harry was cursed," revealed Dumbledore, "he would be forever marked by a most cruel fate ... that he would be called upon to play a crucial role in creating a more lasting peace for his generation. Time and again he has proved me right in thinking him capable of carrying the heaviest of burdens, and yet I resisted arming him adequately, foolishly believing my reticence was doing him a kindness."
Whispers sped around the room, with many of the senior members of the Order glancing apprehensively towards the teens at each end of the table. A muscle twitched in Harry’s cheek as he was reminded of the information withheld from him. He knew that any one of the members could have warned him off. Any one of them, even Mrs Weasley, could have warned him he might be tricked into going to the Ministry. Even if they didn’t know what was inside the prophecy, they all knew it was about him and that Voldemort wanted it at all costs.
Dumbledore paused a moment then said, "The time draws near when fate may call upon Harry Potter again."
A stunned silence fell over the room, even Ron had stopped eating. Then all pretence at whispering fell away, and a shocked buzz raced around the table. Harry avoided looking at his friends, but he couldn’t help but hear the urgency in their voices ... or their fear. Instead, he glared furiously at Dumbledore, but the Headmaster returned his gaze calmly. Remus’s eyes darted worriedly between his leader and his ward; apparently, Dumbledore choosing to drop this little bombshell about Harry’s destiny was news to him as well.
"But that time has not yet come," Dumbledore declared decisively.
At the sound of his voice, the room grew deathly still again, the only movement being the slow parade of half-eaten desserts. Dumbledore’s eyes softened and a rare note of pain crept into his voice.
"I must prevail upon Harry to trust where trust is not deserved, to forgive an old man for allowing the end to justify the means, and to let justice be done though the very heavens fall. Until then, I must entreat his friends, celebrating with him here tonight, to protect him, to cherish him, to aid him on his path."
Dumbledore scanned the room over his half-moon glasses, looking in particular at each of the younger guests.
"A future for our children that is free from war," he concluded slowly, suddenly looking every day of his venerable age, "the cost will be high, but it is possible."
Resentment swelled in Harry’s chest; the cost being yours truly, he thought darkly.
Dumbledore raised his goblet. Harry’s gaze fixed upon the fat ruby ring on the man’s signet finger — the way glinted and shone in the candlelight, so full of power and majesty. Dumbledore motioned for the table to rise. Chairs scraped backwards and silverware tinkled as all the guests raised their goblets.
"Omnia vincit amor!" Dumbledore declared.
The whole room repeated the toast whilst Harry sat perfectly still, staring fixedly at his goblet, watching flames dance on its glimmering surface. Well, there it is, he thought jadedly. The old man may as well have just shown them the prophecy and be done with it. And what did that toast even mean: Love conquers all? How were a few old sayings going to help him bring Voldemort down?
"I need to feed Frank," he mumbled.
With a swish of green robes, he was on his feet, too, and striding from the room. He was two floors away when he heard feet pounding up the stairs behind him.
"Harry! Hold up!" called Ron.
Close behind, Hermione grunted in frustration as she tripped on her purple gown. She hitched it up to her knees so she could race to catch up. Harry waited for them on the third-floor landing.
"Look, I’m fine," he said, "I’m just going to feed Frank."
"And then?" Hermione puffed. "Off to hide in the attic?"
Harry scowled in annoyance. That was pretty much exactly what he had in mind.
"Look, just go finish your dinners," he urged them.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.
"Nah," they said in unison.
They each grabbed an elbow and half-pushed — half-pulled Harry the rest of the way to his bedroom, where he slumped into a wingchair and placed Frank’s dinner on the floor next to him.
"Over here, Frank," he hissed in Parseltongue.
Frank slithered over. "Thanks," he hissed happily.
"So ..." Ron started uncomfortably, looking to Hermione for guidance.
"Harry," Hermione started hesitantly, sitting next to him, "what exactly did Professor Dumbledore mean about fate calling on you again?"
This was it. This was the moment Harry had been dreading.
"You remember that prophecy that was smashed, the one with my name on it?"
He waited for their nods.
"Yeah, well, I know what was in it."
Author Notes: