“Do you have a verdict?”
Eustace Bean’s voice rang out in the stone chamber. The witch standing and holding the sheaf of
parchment swallowed and looked at Lucius Malfoy, who then turned and gazed at her with a
malevolence which made her turn ashen and shake even more, although she managed to remain
upright. But through her shaking and fear, she finally was able to speak.
“We do.”
A low rumble started to move through the room, growing slightly louder, then dying out again,
until there was silence once more. The witch cleared her throat and read:
“Charge one: Illegally training an underage wizard to Apparate. The defendant is found guilty
and ordered to pay the Improper Use of Magic Office and the Department of Magical
Transportation each a fine of one thousand Galleons.
“Charge two: Conspiring in the initiation of Draco Malfoy into the Death Eaters. The defendant
is found guilty, sentenced to three years in Azkaban.
“Charge three: Conspiring in Draco Malfoy being place under Cruciatus: The defendant is found
guilty, sentenced to three years in Azkaban.
“Charge four: Conspiring to conceal the murder of Igor Karkaroff. The defendant is found
guilty, sentenced to three years in Azkaban.
“Charges five through nine and charges twenty-four and twenty-five, appended at the prisoner’s
request: Recruiting Penelope Clearwater, Marcus Flint, Percy Weasley, Roger Davies, Harry
Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger to be Death Eaters. The defendant is found
guilty, sentenced to fourteen years in Azkaban.
“Charges ten through fifteen: conspiracy to murder Beryl Clearwater, Reginald Clearwater,
Wilmer Clearwater, Jeremy Clearwater, Aurelia Flint and Letitia Carpenter. The defendant is
found guilty and sentenced to eighteen years in Azkaban and required to liquidate all assets to
be divided among the heirs of the deceased.
“Charge sixteen: Placing Cho Chang under Imperius. The defendant is found guilty and
sentenced to life in Azkaban.
Charges seventeen and eighteen: Placing Kathryn Bell and Alicia Spinnet under Imperius. And
charge nineteen: Administering a potion to Hermione Granger that acts like Imperius. The jury
recommends that these three charges be suspended and reviewed at a later date pending the
apprehension and trial of Matthias Avery and Gunther Nott.
“Charges twenty through twenty-two: Kidnapping and detaining Ronald Weasley, Hermione
Granger and Harry Potter. The defendant is found guilty and sentenced to nine years in
Azkaban and ordered to pay Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger and Mr. Potter one-thousand
Galleons each.
“Charge twenty-three: Placing the Cruciatus Curse on Ronald Weasley. The defendant is found
guilty and sentenced to life in Azkaban.”
A low murmur started moving through the chamber as those assembled considered the
consequences of Lucius Malfoy’s actions. Hermione had been doing the calculations in her
head. “That’s fifty years plus two life sentences, as well as the fines and the liquidation of the
assets,” she whispered to Ron and Harry. “They didn’t go easy on him.” She was smiling,
looking at the witch who had read out the verdicts and sentences. Harry also looked at the jury;
he wanted to memorize every face on it, imprint them on his mind forever. We must choose
between what is right and what is easy. He looked at Lucius Malfoy, who was glaring at
Eustace Bean, not looking happy. Ha, Harry thought. His Ministry connections failed him. Even
Cornelius Fudge can’t help you now, Malfoy.
He heard a wail then, and Narcissa Malfoy ran from the chamber, a handkerchief held over her
face in anguish. Lucius Malfoy did not look at her. Harry leaned forward and raised his
eyebrows at Draco Malfoy, who saw and whispered, “It’s the liquidation of assets thing.” He
was smiling. “She needn’t have told me not to come back to Malfoy Manor. Looks like she
won’t be going back either--at least, not for long.” Harry nodded. She would be destitute, no
money or place to live. Harry wasn’t sure Draco Malfoy should look so gleeful about this, but
then his mother had just a little while ago disowned him and recommended that he kill himself...
When the murmur had died down again, Cornelius Fudge stood. “As the Minister of Magic,” he
said, “I suspend Mr. Malfoy’s life sentences, inasmuch as he has given us the names of Matthias
Avery and Gunther Nott, who will be apprehended and tried for murder. The fines will stand. I
also suspend half of the other sentences.”
Eustace Bean glared at Fudge and Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore, who seemed utterly
unsurprised. That left Malfoy with twenty-five years in Azkaban. He would be sixty-seven upon
leaving. Considering how long wizards live, Harry thought, looking at Dumbledore, that still left
him more than half his life to live after that. The beauty of a life sentence being placed on a
wizard, Harry thought, was that his life was very, very long. Could Fudge just do this?
There was not just a murmur in the chamber now; there threatened to be a riot. But evidently,
Fudge did in fact have the right to do this. Harry supposed it was a lucky thing that he hadn’t
pardoned Malfoy completely. Perhaps that was some gesture to appear to be fair and impartial.
Harry was convinced that, come what may, Fudge had to be ousted from his post. This was a
travesty of justice. Suspending the life sentences!
He turned to see Ron’s face. Oddly, he was beaming. “What’s wrong with you?” Harry
whispered, unsure whether he’d be heard in the hubbub.
“A thousand Galleons,” Ron said simply, grinning. “And I didn’t have to be a Triwizard
Champion,” he laughed. “I just had to get myself kidnapped.” Harry also laughed. Trust Ron to
see it in those terms. Well, he would finally have a little money. That was nice for him. Harry
didn’t care about the money. He cared about Fudge cutting Malfoy’s years in prison down to a
mere twenty-five. He cared about Fudge’s motivations. Fudge looked at Harry now, a cold
look that Harry returned. I will not look away, he thought. This cowardly little wizard will not
make me take back what I said about Voldemort returning, as much as he wants to deny it.
Fudge looked away first. Then the door in the corner opened again, and the dementors
returned, to take Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban. He still looked oddly cheerful, and Bean in fact
remarked on this.
“May I remind you that you are going to Azkaban now?” he growled at him.
Malfoy smiled cockily. “Do you think Azkaban can hold me, when it is guarded by the natural
allies of the Dark Lord? I may be there for a while...but only for a while...”
He was still smiling as they dragged him out. Harry’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He
turned to Dumbledore, who nodded. “That,” he said to Harry, “is why I do not like the idea of
their running Azkaban. I never liked it. I fear that we may soon regret it.”
The courtroom decorum was fast evaporating as the jury moved to leave and reporters jostled
each other, trying to reach them. Then a reporter’s face was mere inches away from Harry’s,
asking him something about Hewhomustnotbenamed. The reporter said it very fast. Dumbledore
looked at her and said firmly, “No comment.”
He and Moody managed to get the five of them out of the room and down the corridor. Harry
looked over his shoulder; the Weasleys were following. When they all reached the circular room
with the portals again, Dumbledore led them into one labeled MMAO, which Harry now
realized meant Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Mr. Weasley’s office. And Percy’s, since he
worked for his dad now. Mr. Weasley led them all to his untidy office, walled off from the larger
workspace, with a door with frosted glass in the top labeled simply, “A. Weasley.”
Mrs. Weasley hugged Ron and Ginny once they were in the office, then Harry and Hermione,
and finally, hesitating only a moment, Draco Malfoy, who actually got some color in his face
when this happened, although it faded quickly. Then her husband led her to his desk chair,
where she sat wearily, his hand on her shoulder. Harry looked around; it looked very similar to
like the office of the headmaster of the school he’d attended before Hogwarts. There was the
large desk, the swiveling chair behind it, some hard wooden chairs before it for visitors, and
rows of filing cabinets on each side of the room. Perhaps because of his love of all things
Muggle, Mr. Weasley had consciously decided to mimic a typical Muggle office (albeit one
from about forty years ago).
Harry had unfortunately been sent to the headmaster’s office multiple times for things that he did
not understand, such as being on the roof of the school while being chased by Dudley and his
gang. He had no control over these things when they happened, and had no plausible
explanation, so he would sit in the large, hard chair before the headmaster’s desk and look back
at him, wide eyed and innocent, but seeming like an incorrigible little troublemaker to the stern
man before him.
Harry did not miss those days, he realized. As dangerous as it was to be him, sometimes, he
closed his eyes and knew that, deep down, he was still far happier being a wizard than being a
boy who did not know he was a wizard, oppressed by his family and teachers and headmaster,
and miserably missing his parents every day as he lived in a cupboard under the stairs.
He opened his eyes again and continued to look around Mr. Weasley’s office. There was a
window on the wall behind the desk; but then Harry realized that the window showed a view of
the Burrow. “It’s like another portal,” Mr. Weasley explained when he saw Harry puzzling at it.
“Except it’s just a view. I can’t actually go through and be in the garden at home. I could
choose any view I like; I chose this one.”
“Why didn’t you ever bring us to work, Dad?” Ron asked him. His father looked odd.
“I’ve brought you to work, surely? Of course I have...”
“No, you haven’t,” Ginny agreed with Ron.
“Nor the twins,” Ron added.
“Well, he brought me,” Charlie said. “And Bill. I was ten and Bill was twelve. I met you,” he
said to Moody, nodding.
Moody looked back at him shrewdly. “That’s right, we did meet. You were just a lad. And I
also met your--”
“Ah!” Mrs. Weasley screamed. Everyone stared at her. She had leapt to her feet and was
looking terrified. “I mean, I mean--” she faltered, then turned to the view of the Burrow. “Look
at the weeds in the garden! And those gnomes just running around like they own the place!”
She turned to Ron and Ginny. “I’ll have plenty of work for you two and the twins when the term
is over.”
Harry looked at the view of the Burrow, thinking that her reaction to the garden was very
strange. He didn’t see any gnomes. But he also thought it was a nice view for Mr. Weasley to
have in his office. Mrs. Weasley had calmed down. He looked around the office some more, at
some wizard photos on the walls that showed the Weasley family, the children at different stages
in their lives. He smiled at a photo of Ron and Ginny playing in the garden with George and
Fred. Ginny couldn’t have been more than four, Ron five and the twins seven. They smiled and
waved, the wind lifting their red hair slightly. Then Harry felt another presence next to him and
turned to see Draco Malfoy looking at the same picture. Ginny and Ron and Hermione had
been in here earlier and seen everything; they were chatting excitedly with the older Weasley
brothers and Mr. Weasley about the verdict.
“I wish,” Harry said softly, “I’d grown up with them. The Weasleys. I wish Ron hadn’t just
become my best friend when I was eleven.”
Malfoy nodded. “I’ve never had a real friend.” He also spoke softly. The others were making
quite a lot of noise, ignoring them.
“What? There’s Crabbe and Goyle.”
He grimaced. “They’re just kids of my dad’s friends. We all got thrown together all the time.
Didn’t have much choice. They were easy to boss around, not being too bright. I couldn’t
actually talk to them. I don’t just--um--what I mean to say about Ginny is--”
“You talk. You’re also friends. That’s good.”
“I feel like I can tell her almost anything.”
“Almost?”
“Well, there are some things she doesn’t need me to tell her...”
“Such as when your hormones are completely out of control? Yeah, she can probably figure
that out when she’s standing facing you with a chair in one hand and a whip in the other.”
Malfoy got a lopsided smile and a faraway look on his face. “Ginny with a whip...now there’s
an image...”
Harry laughed softly and shook his head. “I should expect it by now, but you always surprise
me, Malfoy...”
“Thank you, thank you.”
Just then, Ginny herself came over to them and put her arm through Malfoy’s, pillowing her
head on his shoulder. She nodded at the picture of her with Ron and the twins.
“That was Ron’s fifth birthday. Mum always did parties in the garden. We’d play at throwing
the garden gnomes over the wall and such. It’s been strange being at school for our birthdays
every year since starting at Hogwarts. And the loneliest year of my life was when Ron went
away to school and I was the only one left at home.” Harry had never thought of that before.
Just Ginny and her mother and father. It did sound lonely.
Harry sighed. “I wish my birthday happened at school. Spending my birthday with the Dursleys
is one of the most depressing things in the world.”
Malfoy didn’t speak. Ginny kissed his cheek lightly. “Your birthday is coming soon, Draco.
What do you usually do?”
He swallowed, looking at her. “I used to get to do whatever I wanted...” And then Harry
realized that Ginny had been unintentionally tactless, asking him about this, when he no longer
had a home or family to speak of. She covered her mouth.
“Oh, Draco, that was so stupid of me.”
He shook his head. “Nah. I’ll get used to it. Eventually. There are a lot of things I’ll probably do
automatically, before realizing that I can’t, or shouldn’t. It’ll take a while...”
She put her head back on his shoulder and Harry looked back and forth between her and her
younger self. He smiled. “You haven’t actually changed very much since the age of four, have
you, Gin?”
She looked a little miffed. “I hope I have...”
“I mean your face. It’s impossible not to know that that’s you.” He nodded at the photo. She
still had the same snub childish nose covered in freckles, the same large brown eyes, the same
thin, pale face under the mop of flaming hair. Hermione suddenly appeared at his elbow, and
also put her arm through his, as Ginny had done with Malfoy.
“What are we talking about?”
“Whether we’ve changed since that photo was taken,” Ginny said, nodding at it. Hermione
looked.
“Oh, yes, we saw that one earlier. Weren’t they all so cute! But the boys have changed a lot,
don’t you think?”
Harry looked at her for a moment, then at the waving Ron and George and Fred. At that age,
the three boys looked far more similar than they did now. All three had the bright red hair, the
freckles. Ron’s nose wasn’t as long as it was when Harry met him; it was closer to being like
Ginny’s. Fred and George were laughing; they were each missing some teeth, but different ones.
“Fred and George didn’t lose the same teeth at the same time?”
“Oh, mum loved that. For a while she could actually tell them apart.” Ginny smiled. Harry
moved further along the wall, taking Hermione along with him. Ginny and Draco followed. Here
was a photo of Percy without his glasses on and one of the twins, Harry didn’t know which, and
the two of them were playing in the sand on a beach at about the ages of eight and ten.
Harry pointed at it. “Is that Fred or George? And where’s everyone else?”
Ginny looked very uncomfortable and swallowed. “Actually, that’s Bill and Charlie. Probably
about two years before Percy was born. Seventy-four. Over twenty years ago.” Harry
frowned; why was she acting odd? And he’d never thought about the large age difference
between Charlie and Percy. Charlie and Bill were ten and twelve when Percy was born. That
meant...Harry realized for the first time...
“Ginny--Bill and Charlie--when they were in school--did they know my mum and dad?” Ginny
nodded. She didn’t look like she wanted to talk. Harry thought quickly; if Bill was in his first
year at Hogwarts in 1975, his mum and dad would have been in their fifth year. Prefects. A year
before he saw his mum and Snape in the Potions Dungeon...although, perhaps that was at the
end of their fifth year...And in their seventh year, Bill would have been in his third and Charlie in
first.
He turned and looked at Bill and Charlie, wondering why they’d never said anything to him
before. But then he thought about how much interaction he had with students four years younger
than him. He probably had more contact with Will Flitwick than any of the others, only because
he felt Will was a friend now, after the way he’d stood up for him in the Great Hall. It just
seemed so strange to be standing so close to people who’d gone to school with his parents who
weren’t--well, grownups. Although he knew that technically, they were. Bill was thirty-two and
Charlie was thirty. They just didn’t seem much like other adults. But then, they’d grown up
during Voldemort’s first reign of terror. Perhaps they felt some of their childhoods had been
taken from them, and they weren’t ready to settle down yet.
Then he came upon a picture of two little red-haired girls that looked remarkably like Ginny,
except that they both had blue eyes. They were sitting around a Christmas Tree with what he
now knew was Bill and Charlie. They were all laughing and getting ready to open presents. Bill
and Charlie seemed a little older than in the beach photo, maybe fourteen and twelve, while the
girls seemed about six and eight. Harry pointed.
“Who are they?”
“Cousins,” Hermione told him. “Ron told me earlier. They were visiting for the holidays. That
was the year the twins were born, before Ron and Ginny came along.”
Harry nodded. “Well, you can tell they’re Weasleys. What are their names?”
Ginny looked uncomfortable again and turned to Professor Dumbledore. “Professor--do you
think it’s safe yet? To get past the reporters? Don’t we have to get a train back?”
Dumbledore looked down at Ginny kindly. “Quite right, Ginny. The five of you will probably
need to sleep on the train. The dining car will be in place, so you can have a nice dinner before
that.”
Harry wondered why Ginny was uncomfortable about the picture of her cousins. They weren’t
much younger than Bill and Charlie, so they’d be adults now. Had they gone bad? Were they
the family shame? He looked at Malfoy, who looked as uncomfortable about it as Ginny.
Hmmm...Harry thought. Whatever it was, it looked like Ginny had told Malfoy about it. He
definitely did not look ignorant.
They said goodbye to the Weasleys and followed Dumbledore back to the wall that Malfoy
hadn’t been able to penetrate. After that they walked to where they’d originally come through
from the station, the wall with POTTER on the other side. Lucius Malfoy thought Azkaban
couldn’t hold him while it was run by dementors, and Voldemort had marked the entrance to
the Ministry of Magic with an indelible kind of graffiti. Harry should have felt like a lot of things
were resolved, but he didn’t. Wormtail was still on the loose, and until he was caught, Sirius had
to still be on the run too. The Death Eaters still had it out for Snape, and probably now Draco
Malfoy as well. Many problems were solved, and yet many remained....
As the train moved away, Harry watched the POTTER on the wall of the station until it
disappeared from view.
* * * * *
The following week, Harry felt like his head was going to explode from simultaneously preparing
for the O.W.L.s and the final Quidditch match of the year. On Saturday was the match, then he
would have still another week to stuff things into his brain before taking the O.W.L.s. He
despaired of surviving it all. Suddenly, taking on dark wizards seemed like the easiest thing he’d
done all year. And after exams, there was still the Dueling Club demonstration...He felt like
curling up in a little ball in a cave and hibernating.
After spending what felt like a solid week on his broomstick (and being very thankful for
broomstick cushioning charms), the day of the match dawned sunny and fair. Everyone was in
good health, so Ginny would be able to sit in the stands and watch the rest of them play. Harry
thought briefly of feigning illness himself so that she could play; somehow, he felt it would be
much more of a sure thing with her playing Seeker. He also wasn’t sure how ruthless he could
be against Cho Chang; it was because of him that she’d been in an enchanted sleep for forty
days (really Malfoy, of course, but it was indirectly because of him). He tried to get over this
thought and remind himself that the Ravenclaw captain was Roger Davies; beating Roger was
something he could get behind. Roger probably wanted his last Quidditch match as captain to
be one for the record books. Harry knew he’d be facing a very determined Head Boy.
The Slytherin/Ravenclaw match had been an intense one, with the combination of Liam Quirke
and Evan Davies as Beaters wreaking havoc with the Slytherin Chasers (who still scored quite a
lot), such that the Ravenclaw Chaser combination of Mandy Brocklehurst, Padma Patil and
Niamh Quirke had racked up three-hundred fifty points to Slytherin’s two-hundred and forty
before Malfoy caught the Snitch, making the final Slytherin score a whopping three-hundred
ninety. As a result, even though they only scored in two out of their three games, Slytherin was
in the lead for the cup with seven-hundred points, and Ravenclaw was second with five-hundred
sixty. That meant that all Ravenclaw had to do was get the Snitch and they would have ten
points more than Slytherin and win the Quidditch cup. Gryffindor needed one-hundred ninety to
win the cup.
The Gryffindor team rose early and went running together, as Harry had had them do before.
Hermione came along, but Ginny did not. Afterward, when they entered the Great Hall in their
team robes, the other Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs were cheering for them, while the
Slytherins reserved their support for Ravenclaw. Interesting, thought Harry. They’ll do anything
to not support Gryffindor, won’t they? Of course, Hufflepuff was already out of the running, but
still...
After breakfast, the entire population of the school flowed down to the Quidditch pitch. There
were already some families there that had made a special trip to see the match. The Weasleys
were much in evidence, waving to the twins and Ron, as well as Harry. He waved back, smiling,
glad to be friendly with them again, hoping he wouldn’t humiliate himself with Charlie Weasley
sitting right there...
He saw Draco Malfoy sitting near Snape on the other side of the stands, and no one else within
a stone’s throw of them. Then that changed; the Scottish girl who’d asked him out came near
and nodded at the place on the other side of Malfoy. He raised his eyebrows but nodded back
at her, letting her sit. She wasn’t bad looking, really. She had wiry black hair and dark eyes, she
was rather pale but slightly freckled, and a bit on the thin side. Malfoy looked surprised. Harry
almost started to wonder whether the Sorting Hat could have made a mistake with her and
Malfoy.
Harry and Roger Davies walked to the middle of the pitch with their teams and Madam Hooch.
They shook hands, Harry looking into Roger’s eyes, trying to tell what he was thinking. Roger
looked back malevolently, making Harry shudder involuntarily. All right, he thought. That’s how
it is. No quarter.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle and fifteen broomsticks rose into the air. Lee Jordan’s
magically magnified voice announced, “And it’s the last Quidditch match of the year! This will
decide whether the Quidditch Cup will go to--” he paused meaningfully “--Gryffff-indor--”
much cheering from the crowd as he drew out the house name. “Ravenclaw,” he said derisively,
as though it were ludicrous, “or those bounders in Slytherin...” he sneered with feeling.
“Jordan!” Professor McGonagall admonished him. He straightened up and continued his
commentary, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“And Gryffindor captain Harry Potter is in fine form on his Firebolt today, while much of the
rest of the team is on excellent Nimbus 2001’s. I see the Ravenclaw Seeker is still poking along
on a Cleansweep--And Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell passes to Johnson, Johnson swerves a
Bludger hit by Ravenclaw thug Evan Davies--”
“Jordan--”
“I mean Ravenclaw Beater Evan Davies...while Chaser Alicia Spinnet takes the Quaffle and--
YES! Gryffindor, ten, Ravenclaw, zero! As the Head Girl gives the Head Boy what-for!”
Roger Davies was glowering at Alicia after she flung the Quaffle through the far right goal; he
was about to move there when he realized she wasn’t aiming for the far left, but he was too late.
Alicia gave him a smug smile and raced off with Katie while Angelina took possession of the
Quaffle once more, only to lose it to Niamh Quirke.
“Oh! And Chaser Quirke of Ravenclaw intercepts a pass Chaser Johnson meant for Katie Bell!
Nice bit of cheating there...”
“Jordan...”
“And--there! Stooging! The Ravenclaw Chasers are Stooging! Penalty to Gryffindor!”
Lee was right; Niamh and Mandy were both in the scoring area in front of the Gryffindor goals
at the same time, so it mattered not that Ron easily prevented the Quaffle from entering the
center goal. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and collected the Quaffle from Ron. Harry
decided Angelina should take the penalty; she was their best feinter when taking penalty shots,
most likely to fool Roger Davies. Sure enough, she succeeded in making him zip toward the
wrong goal.
“Gryffindor TWENTY, Ravenclaw ZERO!” Jordan called out gleefully. “That’s where
Stooging will get you!” Professor McGonagall also looked a bit smugly in Professor Flitwick’s
direction, not restraining Lee this time.
Harry flew a little above the rest of the players, scanning the field for the Snitch at the same time
that he was keeping an eye on the Bludgers Liam and Evan were hitting. He saw that Cho
Chang was marking him, as was her usual strategy, and he gave her a feeble smile before
focusing grimly on the field below once more. Fred and George were giving as good as they
were getting, but it was starting to look like someone would wind up in the hospital wing.
He had no idea how close to right he was, however, until Liam Quirke did a Bludger Backbeat
just as Alicia, Katie and Angelina were heading toward the Ravenclaw goals with the Quaffle
again, sending the iron ball behind him, directly toward the part of the stands where the
Gryffindor supporters were sitting. There was a hue and cry as spectators scrambled to get out
of the way. Will Flitwick narrowly avoided being hit, splintered wood was flying after the heavy
ball hit the seat where he’d been moments before, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle
hysterically while Jordan yelled expletives which would normally have resulted in his being
reprimanded by McGonagall, except that she was now using quite surprising language directed
at Liam Quirke and examining young Will for any damage. Even Professor Flitwick was on his
feet yelling at Liam.
“That’s my great-nephew, you sodding yob!” he cried at him; which was strong language
indeed for the little wizard.
“Right!” Jordan went on with the commentary once he’d gotten the bad language out of his
system. “And because of Beater Quirke engaging in a dirty bit of Bumphing--which I also like
to call cheating--another penalty to Gryffindor! Fat lot of good it did you to stop the game!”
When Madam Hooch had blown her whistle, the Gryffindor Chasers had been forced to stop
their drive to the Ravenclaw goalposts.
So Angelina took the Quaffle once more, but this time Roger Davies was ready and intercepted
it before it could go through the center goal. He pulled back his arm and flung it in a long pass to
Niamh Quirke, who sped toward Ron, who was glaring at her as he hovered back and forth
before the goals. She sent the ball flying toward the right goal and Ron handily picked it out of
the air, his long arm reaching for it effortlessly. Not missing a beat, he reared back and passed it
on to Katie, who, with Angelina and Alicia formed an arrowhead pattern, flying toward the
Ravenclaw goalposts.
“And the Gryffindor Chasers move into the classic Hawkshead Attacking Formation, scattering
the Ravenclaw players. Careful to avoid Stooging, now, now now NOW! Yes! Katie Bell
scores! Gryffindor THIRTY, Ravenclaw STILL ZERO! That’s my girl!” Then Lee ducked his
head as McGonagall turned to him in surprise, speechless about this last exclamation. Harry
smiled as he scanned the field. He’d suspected as much, since that first match when Ginny had
had to step in for Katie...
There. He saw it. The Snitch was half-way up the far left Gryffindor goalpost. He looked away,
hoping Cho Chang hadn’t seen it; he moved toward the center of the field, hoping she would
follow. If she caught it, Ravenclaw would win the cup; if he caught it now, they would win the
match, but not the cup. At least not technically; they would share the cup with Slytherin, tied
with seven-hundred points each.
They would share the cup with Slytherin.
He pushed out of his head the horrible consequences of saying to Cedric, We’ll take the cup
together. Suddenly, Harry knew what he was going to do. With a glance at Cho Chang to
make certain she’d believed his feint away from the Gryffindor goalposts, he made a sudden
about face and sped toward the Snitch, still hovering there. He turned his head for a split
second, looking toward Malfoy. Malfoy was looking straight back, his mouth open in disbelief.
Harry turned toward the Snitch once more, hoping that his usually fine Chasers were not scoring
again as he came nearer and nearer...
“The Gryffindor Chasers are nearing their quarry again...but what’s this? Seeker and Captain
Harry Potter is closing in on the Snitch! Hurry up girls, score again before he touches it! Oh, no!
No NO NO! He has the Snitch! Potter has the Snitch! Gryffindor wins the match--and
Gryffindor and Slytherin will share the Quidditch Cup!”
Harry flew around the field, the Snitch over his head. Most of the Gryffindors were looking
shell-shocked and disappointed. Only Hermione and Ginny were standing and clapping on their
side of the stands. On the other side, the Slytherins were equally surprised, but Malfoy and
Snape and the Scottish girls were now standing and clapping. Snape turned and glared at the
other Slytherins, and slowly, they all stood as well and clapped, lackadaisically at first, then with
a growing enthusiasm as they perhaps realized that this was the only way they would get
anything; ten more points for Gryffindor would be a clean win, and if Ravenclaw had won the
match, there was no way Slytherin would have gotten anything either.
McGonagall looked toward Snape and Malfoy, and with an expression of understanding on her
face now, she smiled at Harry and also stood to clap. Her glare at the other Gryffindors brought
them to their feet as well. Harry flew down to the center of the field, smiling up at Ginny and
Hermione, who clearly understood why he’d done it, and when he landed he met Dumbledore’s
eye as well, twinkling at him. This time it wouldn’t go wrong, he thought. Not unless that damn
cup is also a Portkey...
But it was definitely not a Portkey. Harry stood facing Roger, each with their team behind them,
and they shook hands. Roger looked resentful, but he grasped Harry’s hand with his chin up,
every bit Head Boy. Then Dumbledore summoned Draco Malfoy and the Slytherin team to the
field, and Harry and Malfoy each grasped one side of the Quidditch Cup and held it aloft, as the
students on both sides of the pitch now roared their approval. Malfoy grinned, no smiled at
Harry, the first genuine smile from Malfoy Harry had ever seen directed at him. He smiled
back, then felt his smile grow even broader as they lowered their hands, giving the cup back to
Dumbledore’s care (so he could magically etch the year and winning house names on the base)
for Hermione was pushing her way through the crowd now, her eyes locked with Harry’s, and
he knew before she reached him what would happen, and he didn’t care.
She threw her arms around him and he drew her to him for a deep kiss. A new roar of approval
went up from the crowd upon seeing this, and Hermione colored and buried her face in his
neck, smiling happily anyway. Then the crowd really got a shock when Ginny threw her arms
around Malfoy and did the same. Suddenly Harry didn’t know where the ground was, and it
was because he had been lifted bodily above the crowd, and looking to his side, he saw that
Malfoy was too. The Slytherins seemed to be beyond caring about anything else he’d done
recently--they were co-winners of the cup!
As they were borne back to the castle for a joint celebration in the Great Hall--so both winning
houses could celebrate together--Harry saw Viktor standing up in the seats, his arm around
Cho’s shoulder. They both smiled at him and each raised a silent hand, reminding Harry of how
he’d bidden Hermione goodbye on September first. He raised a hand to them, smiling, as the
crowd carried him off the pitch and continued up the lawn. It had actually been a good year, he
thought. There’d been a few bumps along the way (if you called being recruited to be a Death
Eater a “bump”) and he still had the O.W.L.s to take. But some things he’d set out to do had
actually worked well. Viktor and Cho. Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban. He was with Hermione,
openly now. Ron was still their friend. Ginny and Draco Malfoy were happy together. And now
he’d managed to do what he never thought he would want to do, and tied with Slytherin for the
Quidditch Cup...
He turned and grinned at Malfoy again, also bobbing along above the crowd. Maybe, Malfoy,
he thought; maybe you have a friend after all.
* * * * *
The celebration lasted much of the day, and when Harry dragged himself up the marble steps in
the middle of the afternoon, his arm comfortably settled around Hermione’s shoulders, he felt
like he could sleep until Monday morning. But he had one more thing to do this day, and he
checked to see where the other Gryffindor team members were--good, Fred and Alicia were
following behind, George and Angelina had already gone up, he remembered, and Katie and
Lee were walking ahead of them. Ginny was behind Fred and Alicia; she and Malfoy were
walking with their arms around each other’s waists. Every so often Fred looked over his
shoulder at them, but he didn’t look hostile--just big-brotherly.
When they reached the portrait hole, it had already been opened by George and Angelina, who
were holding it for them. They all scrambled in, except for Ginny and Malfoy. He was giving her
a very chaste kiss on the cheek, clearly aware of her brothers’ proximity. Harry called to him,
“Come on in, Malfoy! There’s something you’ll want to know about.” He looked up in surprise,
but did not comment, following Ginny into the common room. Harry remembered the only other
time (that he knew of) Malfoy had been in their common room, when he’d caught him trying to
meet with Ginny at midnight. It seemed a very long time ago.
Ron was sitting in a chair by the fire, quite exhausted, his small cat Argent curled contentedly on
his lap, asleep. His eyes were closed as well. He had been the first to come upstairs. The team
surrounded him quietly, Angelina and Katie looking like it was a struggle not to giggle. Harry
sprinted up to the dorm, retrieved a package from his trunk, and sped down to the common
room again. He stood in front of Ron, who was still oblivious to the small crowd around him.
“Ron,” Harry said, to wake him. He slept on. “Ron!” he tried again.
Grinning, Ginny reached out and shook him. “Ron!” she also said. “Time to wake up! Fleur
Delacour is here for her date with you!” she laughed, and so did everyone else. Ron’s eyes flew
open in surprise, even more so when he saw all of them looking at him.
“Wha---?”
“Happy Birthday, Ron,” Harry said, presenting Ron with the package from his trunk. Argent
scrambled up onto the arm of the chair, rubbing her head affectionately against Ron’s arm.
“What with one thing and another, I didn’t have the chance to give this to you before. This
seemed like an appropriate time.”
Ron looked around at them all, then down at the package. He shrugged and pulled the paper
off. It was the same book he had given Harry for Christmas: Great Quidditch Captains of
Hogwarts, by Roderick Plumpton, III. He frowned and looked up at Harry. “You’re giving me
the book back?”
“No you--it’s another copy. I bought it by owl post. That’s just part of it. Check page 428.”
He watched Ron turn to the table listing the greatest Quidditch captains of Hogwarts teams in
the last century (in the author’s humble opinion); he watched him scan down the column, past
Charlie’s name, then he saw the expression on Ron’s face and knew he’d come to where Harry
had written in by hand, “Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor.”
“Blimey,” he breathed softly. Ron swallowed and looked up at him, then round at all of them.
“Captain?” he whispered. “But Harry--”
“But nothing. We’ve all agreed. You’re the one who was really running the practices, coming up
with the strategies. Which I of course scuttled, by catching the Snitch when I did...” he smiled,
glancing at Malfoy. “But I’m a lousy captain. It should be you, Ron. You know I’m right. You
know we’re all right.”
Ron’s mouth was hanging open as he looked down at the book again, then back up at Harry. “I
don’t know what to say...”
“Just say you’ll do it, Weasley,” Malfoy drawled. “Else I’ll never get out of here...”
Everyone laughed, including Ron, and he nodded at Harry, looking quite choked up. He closed
the book and put it on his lap again, picking up his cat and holding her close to him, smiling and
petting her while multiple hands reached out to pat him on the back and say things along the line
of, “There’s a good bloke...we’ll come back to see you get the cup...once we’re gone, you can
have practices before sunrise...”
Later, Harry knew he should be studying for the O.W.L.s but he pulled Hermione into a corner
of the common room, sitting down in a chair George and Angelina usually used which faced into
the corner, creating a cozy refuge. He sat down, pulling her into his lap. She acquiesced, putting
her arms around his shoulders, bringing her mouth to his. He felt a wave of happiness surge
through him as they kissed deeper and deeper, a contentment that seemed to be beyond
anything he deserved or ever thought he’d experience. He moved his hand up her leg, under her
robes; now that it was June, she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt underneath, and he rested his
hand comfortably on one of her thighs, feeling the warmth emanating from her skin, feeling so
right about the world.
She pulled her mouth gently away from his, but it was only to move her lips to his neck. He
opened his eyes now, smiling, then he thought he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.
“Ron?”
There was silence, then Ron walked to the corner where they were sitting, looking abashed. “I,
um, didn’t mean to disturb you...” His ears were quite pink. Harry realized that although the
entire school had seen them kiss on the Quidditch pitch, Ron had never seen the two of them
just sitting like this, touching and kissing privately. Harry bit his tongue, to avoid asking whether
he’d been watching them.
“You’re not disturbing us. What is it?”
“I just wanted to--to thank you properly. You know, the captain thing.”
Harry smiled at him. “You’re welcome. Really. Quite welcome. It was driving me dotty.”
Ron tried to smile back, but it looked difficult. Harry hoped he understood that he deserved it,
that it wasn’t charity. Ron could be so touchy sometimes. Harry had wondered whether he’d be
able to convince him to take the position; he remembered Ron saying that in the Mirror of
Erised, he was Head Boy and captain of the Quidditch Team...
“I’m going to make you work, you know,” he smiled at Harry now.
“You’re the one who’s going to have to work. You have two Chasers and two Beaters to
replace.”
“Correction: one Chaser and two Beaters. I’m not going to be Keeper anymore. Ginny’s going
to train for that. Not too far off from Seeker, after all. And Ginny says Zoey Russell is a pretty
good Chaser as well. So we could have her, perhaps, and I’ll finally be a Chaser, too, like I
wanted to be.” Harry remembered his performance in the first match of the year; he was a
fabulous Chaser. There’d be no stopping them with Ron in this position. He remembered seeing
his dad playing...
“That just leaves the Beaters. What about Dean and Seamus?”
“Nah. Dean’s hopeless. All he cares about is football. Seamus dragged him to the World Cup.
And Seamus wants Lee’s old job.”
Harry laughed. “Think of the blarney he’ll throw around.”
“Too right! There’s this fourth year I thought might be good for a Beater--I’ve seen him flying a
bit. Ginny said his name’s Anthony Perugia.”
“Tony? Yeah, he’s a good flyer. What about the other?”
“Well--what do you think about--Neville? Think he’d agree?”
Harry smiled. “Yeah. I really think he would.”
“Hope so. Have you noticed how big he is now? Kind of snuck up on us all, didn’t he?”
Harry agreed. Then Ron looked a bit embarrassed again. “Well, I’ll be leaving you two alone
again...”
“Oh, no, Ron!” Hermione said, standing. “Let’s do something together, the three of us!” Ron
and Harry looked at each other uncertainly. “Oh, you--” she sputtered. “I mean--let’s go down
to Hagrid’s! Come on!” She headed for the portrait hole and they followed. Harry knew she
didn’t want to exclude Ron, but he realized now that it would be a bit of a balancing act, having
time together and with Ron as well. It would work itself out, he thought optimistically. They just
had to get used to a new way of doing things. Everything would be all right.
* * * * *
Harry dragged himself into the dorm and threw himself onto the bed violently, but with relief.
“Ouch!” Sandy said suddenly.
“Sorry, Sandy. I’m just glad that’s over.”
“What?”
“The O.W.L.s.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Weren’t you paying any attention?”
“I was asleep much of the time.”
“Oh. Wish I could say the same. Wait--I was asleep for history of magic and astronomy...”
“Harry Potter?”
“What?”
“What are the O.W.L.s?”
“Very, very annoying tests of our magical knowledge and skills. Five years’ worth, except for
Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, which were three years’ worth.”
“Is it important?”
“Rather important. But I think I did well on most things.”
Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely slept during the week after the Quidditch Cup. They
didn’t have to go to classes. They were to spend the time preparing for the tests, and Hermione
rode herd on them and made sure that’s what they were doing every waking hour (which was
far more hours than they should have been awake, in Harry’s opinion). Most nights they
dragged themselves upstairs at two or three in the morning, muscles moving toward the dorm on
auto-pilot. One night they simply stayed where they were, Hermione sitting at one of the tables,
her cheek on an Arithmancy text, snoring softly, while Harry sat next to her leaning on her
shoulder (he was rather appalled to discover that he’d drooled on her robes when he awoke in
the morning) and Ron spread-eagled on the hearthrug, his face on an Herbology text which was
merely in close proximity to his brain, rather than part of the contents of it.
Then, the following Monday morning, it had begun: they walked in the Potions dungeon and
Snape started in on them. They spent the entire day brewing potions and writing essays and
taking tests about potions ingredients and counter-indications and poison antidotes. Potions
took longer than any of their other tests because of the need to wait for things to bubble and
brew. At the end of the first day, Harry felt great relief that that was over, but reminded himself
there were still more tests to get through.
On Tuesday, they would have Transfiguration and Charms. Harry transfigured McGonagall’s
desk into a pig, as he’d once seen her do; he changed other inanimate objects into animate
ones, and animate ones into inanimate ones. He changed things which he’d already changed,
taking a shoe, at one point, through five transfigurations, from hedgehog to bowler hat to
Yorkshire terrier to tea-cozy to rabbit, before he started to give out and produced a knife-box
(with rather pronounced rabbit ears and a cotton tail) that barked.
Then she’d cleared out the room, and instead of going down to lunch with the others, he
demonstrated for her, formally and for the record, his ability to do the Animagus transfiguration.
She used a stop-watch to time him, over and over, changing into a golden griffin and back,
griffin and back, griffin and back, until he collapsed on the floor from the pain and mental effort.
She smiled at him and nodded. He staggered from the room, meeting Ron and Hermione in the
corridor, and they’d practically carried him down to the Great Hall.
Charms went well, Harry knew, because Professor Flitwick was so terrible at doing a poker
face. There was no chance that a student taking the Charms O.W.L.s had to wait until they
received their results to know how they did with him. Harry went through the basics, then the
intermediate-level charms, and then Flitwick asked all students to stay past the usual time who
wanted credit for advanced charms.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were the only Gryffindors who stayed. The test was basically dueling
with Flitwick, who’d been a champion in his youth. Ron went down very quickly; Hermione
held her own for some time, before he also disarmed her. After dueling for more than half an
hour, Flitwick and Harry were still at it, and Harry had abandoned his robes and was dripping
sweat, while the little wizard was still cool as a cucumber and pacing around humming to himself
before aiming his wand at Harry nonchalantly and muttering charms.
After more than an hour, Flitwick stood still and faced an exhausted Harry and lowered his
wand. “Bow, Harry,” he told him gently. “The duel is over. It is a draw.”
Harry lowered his wand and bowed, and that’s when he heard, “Expelliarmus!” and felt his
wand slipping from his grip, felt himself hurtling backward, bracing himself before he struck the
wall hard, and, wincing, sliding down into a sitting position. Flitwick smiled and walked over to
him, handing him his wand.
“Really, Harry. You should have known better,” he smiled at him. Harry looked up at the
professor, his eyes unfocussed.
“I do now.” Flitwick helped him stand and patted him on the back. But Harry had a feeling that
he hadn’t exactly failed advanced Charms.
If he thought it was exhausting to study for the O.W.L.s, it was nothing compared to taking
them. Wednesday, they started off with Herbology, an entire morning of wrestling with plants in
the greenhouse, then taking exhaustive tests about the magical herbs and fungi they’d been
learning about for five years. In the afternoon, they had History of Magic. Three hours of sitting
in Binns’ stuffy classroom writing about Goblin rebellions. He actually fell asleep, and when he
awoke, Hermione was shaking him and telling him to hand in his parchment. He looked down at
it. He’d written one sentence about someone he’d named Oscar the Offbeat, who Harry wasn’t
even sure had existed. He groaned; he would not be getting a History of Magic O.W.L. He
looked at Ron, who was handing in several parchments of closely-written script. Even Ron had
had quite a lot to write for History of Magic. When Hermione wasn’t looking, he crumpled up
the parchment and stuffed it in his pocket. He just wouldn’t hand in anything at all. Better than
the humiliation of handing this in, he thought. He’d blown it.
That night at midnight, they had astronomy. Harry again felt as though he were sleepwalking,
and Professor Sinistra was short with him. Another flop, he thought. Ron was also the walking
dead. Neither of them expected to get an Astronomy O.W.L.
The next morning they were permitted to sleep in, because of the late Astronomy test, and in the
afternoon they were to report to Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had a virtual zoo
for them to walk through, and his test was multiple-choice. Harry thought he was probably
being pretty easy on them, and wondered whether Dumbledore had approved this. It was the
easiest test so far, Harry felt. Afterward, he heaved a sigh of relief. Just two to go: Divination
and Defense against the Dark Arts.
On Friday morning, he and Ron and the other Gryffindors other than Hermione reported to
Trelawney’s tower, while Hermione went off to Professor Vector for Arithmancy testing. They
went through tea leaves, palmistry, augury, star charts (not for nothing had he done terribly in
astronomy), crystal balls, Tarot cards...every form of soothsaying they’d covered since their first
day with her in their third year. Trelawney glared at him time after time; he was terrible at
everything. Even Ron had something to say most of the time that was spot on or close enough. I
have a snake who has the Sight and I’m not going to get an O.W.L. in Divination. Something
was wrong somewhere, he felt. But he also knew he shouldn’t cheat; he’d left Sandy by the fire
in the common room.
After lunch, they reported to Moody. He had them work on a written test about werewolves,
vampires and other dark creatures that they couldn’t actually bring to class, then they handed in
their papers and actually confronted some dark creatures they’d studied with Lupin. After the
redcaps, Hinkypunks and Grindylows had been despatched, he opened a drawer and
produced--a boggart.
The boggart took on a different form for some of them than it had when they were in third year.
Not surprisingly, Hermione’s looked like Professor McGonagall expelling her and telling her
she’d failed every subject. Neville’s was merely a flask of steaming potion. Parvati’s turned
into--Hermione. Harry saw it first, then turned her around and spoke to her rapidly, until Parvati
had taken care of it and Seamus was stepping up. Finally, Harry faced the boggart, and,
remembering the dementors who had brought Lucius Malfoy in and out of the courtroom, sure
enough, it promptly turned into a dementor.
Harry grimly faced it down, focused intently on his happy thought (now that he’d been with
Hermione that was easy) and cried, “Expecto Patronem!”
The silver-grey stag emerged from his wand-tip and raced toward the boggart-dementor. Then
Harry looked at it again, crying “Riddikulus!” and it disappeared with a pop!
Moody stared in disbelief at him. “Potter,” he said, clearly in awe, which shook Harry
somewhat. “You didn’t tell me you could conjure a Patronus. And what a Patronus...”
Harry swallowed. “I’m sorry. We discovered in third year that when I’m confronted with a
boggart, it turns into a dementor, so Lupin taught me how to conjure a Patronus...”
“You’re sorry?” Moody said, incredulous. “You’re doing something so advanced most adult
wizards can’t, and you’re sorry?” He shook his head. “You’re the damnedest thing I’ve ever
seen, Potter...”
After they did various curses and counter-curses, he dismissed everyone except those who
wanted to stay to do advanced Dark Arts. “I’ve already seen you conjure your Patronus, so
you’ve already got points for that, Potter. Now, let’s see that pain blocking you’ve become so
famous for...”
And without any warning, Moody pointed his wand at him and cried, “Hara Kiri!”
Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head; he felt himself floating up, up, and, looking down, he
watched his body in fascination, watched Moody moving slowly, watched Hermione anxiously
put her hand to her mouth in slow motion, then her other hand on Ron’s arm as Ron stared at
him, his jaw dropping in tiny increments...
When Harry saw Moody lift his wand, he allowed himself to slide back down into his body. He
collapsed on the floor, panting, then struggled to stand. Moody nodded.
“Good job, Potter.” That was all he said. Harry swallowed and nodded back at him. That was
it. It was all done. All they had to do now was wait for the results.
Harry closed his eyes, lying on the bed; he felt like he could sleep for a week. After dreading
the O.W.L.s all year (with good reason, he now knew), they were actually over. He did in fact
sleep straight through until the next morning. He awoke with the sun and rose to dress for
running, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from him. Ron was still asleep, sprawled
across his bed diagonally (the only way he could fit on it all the way). When Harry went down
to the common room, Hermione wasn’t there, but he didn’t bother waiting. If she had any
sense, he thought, she’d sleep in. If I had any sense, perhaps I would, he thought. But he was
feeling restless after sleeping for more than fourteen hours; he wanted to be active, doing
something.
The Quidditch pitch was deserted, dewy and pristine-looking. Harry ran on the sandy path until
he felt he’d exorcised something from his soul, some restless demon that had been possessing
him, making it hurt when he took a breath. Now, even though his lungs were working at
maximum capacity, he felt at peace. Everything was as it should be. He did some sit-ups and
pull-ups and stretches afterward, then returned to the castle with a spring in his step.
In the prefects’ bathroom, he encountered Malfoy, but that no longer had the power to ruin his
day. He merely sauntered in, smiling at him as he soaked in the tub, saying cheerfully, “Good
morning, Malfoy! Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Malfoy had had his eyes closed and opened them now. He leaned against one of the short sides
of the tub, his arms spread out on either side of him on the tub ledge. He no longer bothered to
hide the Dark Mark. There was no need to bother.
“You’re damn cheerful for this time of the morning, Potter. Jump in the lake, will you?”
“Actually, I thought I’d take a shower. Maybe I’ll do a swim in the lake later...” he practically
chirped as he headed for the showers. He saw Malfoy shake his head.
“You, Potter, are too happy to be allowed...”
“But the O.W.L.s are over!” Harry crowed as he stood under the pounding water, making the
noise echo off the tile and marble lining the room. He turned and saw Malfoy putting his head
around the corner.
“I have two words for you, Potter. SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP.”
“That’s five words.”
“It would be two if you didn’t make me swear.”
“That wouldn’t be any fun,” Harry laughed, letting the water gush over his head. He flung his
head back then and turned the water off, grinning at Malfoy. “Aren’t you glad it’s over?”
As Harry wrapped a towel around his waist, Malfoy nodded, finally admitting this. “I can’t
believe Moody...or McGonagall. Or Flitwick. Or Sprout...” He plunged his hands into the
pockets of the deep green bathrobe he’d donned. Harry frowned. What was wrong with him?
Yes, he’d been disowned...but this seemed to have to do with something else.
“Don’t you think you did well, Malfoy?”
Malfoy jerked his head up. “I did bloody well, thank you very much. I fully expect to get more
than ten O.W.L.s. In fact, I bet I’ll get more than you.”
Harry thought about the advanced credit he was going to be getting in Transfiguration, Dark
Arts and Charms. “Bet you won’t,” he smiled. “But if you get more than ten--that’d be really
impressive. I mean, I’d think you’d be happy. What’s your problem? Why aren’t you
celebrating them being over?”
Malfoy walked back toward the tub, started draining it and collecting his clothes. “And just who
am I going to celebrate with? The only Slytherins who’ll have anything to do with me are Snape
and that fourth-year, what’s-her-name. And I’m starting to think she fancies me, so I don’t want
to hang around her too much and give her the wrong impression...”
“Or you could spend all of your spare time with her. Then she’d probably stop fancying you
pretty fast.” Harry laughed as Malfoy threw a damp towel at him, catching it while it was still in
the air.
“You can laugh, Potter. Even if you only got two O.W.L.s, you’d have people to commiserate
with you...”
Harry sighed and bit the bullet; he should do it, he should. Malfoy was hinting about it broadly
enough. “Malfoy,” he finally said, as he took a red bathrobe from the wardrobe. “Dumbledore
said that he’s going to let everyone third year and up go into Hogsmeade again next Saturday.
We’ll be getting our O.W.L. results on Friday. No matter what the outcome--why don’t you
celebrate with us? Ginny will want to be along anyway, and then you can spend some time with
her. We’ll all go down to the village after breakfast.”
Malfoy looked at him and swallowed. He hadn’t acknowledged what Harry had done in sharing
the Quidditch Cup with Slytherin, but Harry knew it meant a lot to him. He was starting to
understand how Ginny had had such a struggle at the beginning of their relationship to get
Malfoy not to sabotage himself.
“If you like,” Malfoy said noncommittally. Harry nodded.
“That’s it, then,” he said firmly. After Malfoy left, Harry collected Sandy and asked her, “Why
do some people find it so hard to let other people be nice to them?” He wasn’t just thinking of
Malfoy; Ron was this way too. They had far more in common than either of them would ever
have admitted.
“I do not understand people very well, Harry Potter,” she answered, “but perhaps they feel that
they do not deserve it?”
“It was a rhetorical question, Sandy. That means I wasn’t really expecting an answer. But I
think you understand people better than you think you do.” He wrapped her around his arm and
left.
* * * * *
The following week they didn’t have to go to class again, unless they wanted to. Harry,
Hermione, Ron and Malfoy went to see Snape when they would have had Potions anyway, but
they practiced for the Dueling Club exhibition instead of brewing potions. Harry was going to be
demonstrating some moves against three attackers, and Snape was nodding grimly as he aimed
his curses and deflected the curses Ron, Hermione and Malfoy were aiming at him. This wasn’t
real dueling, actually; it was tightly choreographed, designed to put on a good show. The
outcome was predetermined. Parts of the exhibition would consist of real dueling, with the
outcome unknown, but much of it would be carefully rehearsed and planned. After the duel he’d
lost to Neville (which had been a better show, Harry thought, than the things they were thus far
planning for the exhibition), he wanted to be seen winning a duel before the entire school. Ron
was paired with him for one of the non-rehearsed duels, and Roger Davies for another. They’d
pulled names out of a wizard’s hat to determine the pairings. Malfoy was matched with Niamh
Quirke and Fred Weasley, and Hermione was taking on Alicia again, as well as George
Weasley.
The following afternoon they went down to Hagrid’s to see the seventh-year Gryffindors go up
against the sun bulls. After Angelina prepared George to harness the bulls and plow the ground,
sowing the earth with dragon’s teeth, they both fought against the Chthonians that sprang from
the soil, but they hadn’t done especially well in the Dueling Club, and Moody put a stop to it so
that they could go to the hospital wing. (It was a combination test for Care of Magical
Creatures, Potions, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.) Moody caused the
Chthonians to disappear, and waving his wand, Flitwick restored the plowed ground to its
pristine state for Fred and his partner, Yarrow Swartz, a girl with a good reputation for brewing
potions.
After drinking the potion Yarrow made him and charming himself with a protective shield, Fred
harnessed the bulls and proceeded to do the plowing, as George had. This time, when the
Chthonians sprang from the earth sown with dragons’ teeth, Fred and Yarrow beat them back,
until the ground was littered with their white bones. Which was all the Chthonians were: fighting
skeletons. Harry had at first been alarmed when they’d sprung from the earth to fight George
and Angelina; the second time, he knew what to expect, and was gratified to see someone
conquer them. He was very, very glad that his N.E.W.T.s were two years away...
Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet did better than George and Angelina, but not as well as Fred and
Yarrow. Harry had his fist in his mouth when it seemed that one of the bulls was going to gore
Lee...but Alicia hexed it before it could break skin. Harry pondered the fact that the twins
performed so differently on the test. They seemed to be growing apart, a bit, or at least
exhibiting different skills and talents. Fred was a far better dueler, for instance, while George
was the one with a girlfriend (Fred and Susan Bones had opted to be “just friends” after the
ceilidh).
As Friday approached, Harry grew tenser and tenser. Dueling practice did little to alleviate this;
what he really wanted to do was to sneak off with Hermione to Fluffy’s old lair, but he was
starting to suspect that she was being superstitious about their physical relationship. After the
first time, he’d found Neville, and after the second time, they’d wound up in the forest tied to
trees, not knowing whether they’d survive another five minutes. He wondered whether she
assumed it would be bad luck to be together again before they learned of their test results. It
seemed uncharacteristic of her, and yet...she was definitely avoiding being alone with him. She
went out of her way to make sure that Ron was with them at all times. She didn’t refrain from
touching him or even kissing him, but she also didn’t suggest that they be alone or try to instigate
it, as she had in the past. Harry was getting very, very frustrated.
Finally, at breakfast on Friday morning, even more owls than usually fluttered in the windows,
most of them school owls. Every fifth-year student received a large creamy envelope with the
Hogwarts seal. Seamus and Dean were pulling their envelopes down from the owls before
they’d had time to alight on their shoulders, and Ron sat holding his, sweat breaking out on his
brow as he hesitated to open it.
Harry finally had an envelope drop into his hands. Harry Potter, Gryffindor, it said simply in
large, looping script. Harry was starting to open it when, beside him, Hermione started
screaming, then practically choked him when she threw her arms around his neck. Harry gasped
and gently took her arm away from his windpipe, then smiled at her.
“I’m guessing you’re pretty happy with your results?”
She nodded, speechless, and handed him the letter. She’d received two O.W.L.s for Potions,
both basic and intermediate; she also received both basic and intermediate O.W.L.s for
Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy and History of Magic. She
received one each for Herbology, Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures, and three for
basic, intermediate and advanced Charms.
“Hermione,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten--”
“I know!”
“Sixteen O.W.L.s--”
“I know!”
He stared at her letter again. She had set a school record. No one, not even Percy Weasley,
had ever gotten sixteen O.W.L.s. He was half afraid to open his letter now. He thought
