"Harry..." Ron approached him for the third time that evening. "I really didn't want to ask you this until the very end. I remember what you said back at the beginning of the year. But I simply have no choice left. Katie won't be back for another three days. We absolutely need a player. I don't know who to replace her with, unless it's Ginny; she handles the Quaffle amazingly well. I'm asking you, just for this match. We need a Seeker..."
Harry looked tiredly at his friend. Ron had apparently put this off until the very last moment. He had spent the whole day gathering courage, and now, in the evening, after finally making up his mind, he simply wouldn't let it go. Harry still hadn't given him an answer, and Ron took the silence as a refusal, backed off for about twenty minutes, and then launched another assault. Harry, meanwhile, had other things on his mind. He was bent over his Potions essay, trying to banish from his thoughts the images connected to everything the Headmaster had recently said. It wasn't that they haunted him day and night, but he simply couldn't get them out of his head. That was why he couldn't make such a simple decision...
In truth, almost everything inside him was shouting: "Yes!" Quidditch, whatever anyone said, still mattered to him. It seemed like such a small thing to do the team a favor and take the field just once... Surely they could provide security by now... But on the other hand... he couldn't deny that ever since he had quit Quidditch—which had not been easy—life had become simpler, and he had more free time. There was more time available, and now that he had seriously committed himself to studying, that was very important. And he also felt that if he gave in now, quitting the sport again would be much harder...
"Harry, everyone is counting on you... Half of Gryffindor makes wishes every day that you'll play against Slytherin..." Harry stared in astonishment: out of nowhere, Hermione had arrived to support Ron, despite the fact that the two of them had never officially reconciled.
"Yes, I heard a few younger students making wishes just yesterday!" Ron immediately chimed in...
"Oh, all right, all right!" Harry finally gave in. The joint assault of his two best friends had finished him off. "But keep in mind, I haven't trained for over a year, so who knows what's actually better."
"Oh, Harry, you hardly need training at all! There are still four days until the match, and we've got practice every evening—we'll manage!" exclaimed the beaming Ron.
The next morning, the entire Gryffindor common room and far beyond was buzzing with talk about Harry's return to the team. A similar conversation took place between Harry and Flamia in bed. She rather disapproved of the decision but could fully understand Harry's motives. Strangely enough, it seemed she had not inherited his love of flying.
Most of the students were convinced that Potter would remain on the team even after this match, and at the same time shove both his red-haired friend and Katie out of the captain's position. Naturally, the Slytherins discussed this most enthusiastically. One thing was strange: Malfoy, who seemed destined to lead all such discussions, took no part in them. More than that, the upcoming match appeared to be the last thing on his mind... Harry, who had not forgotten the joy on his old enemy's face when he returned from the hospital alive and well, suspected something was wrong.
What was annoying was that all this talk was clearly affecting the temporary team captain, and not in a good way. If he had previously played unevenly, especially after letting a couple of goals through, now it had become even worse. It got to the point where one of the new Chasers received a punch in the face from him... As a result, Harry had to practically save his friend from his sister, who had some very unpleasant intentions. Incidentally, Ginny accepted his return to the team and her removal from the Seeker position with an oddly excessive amount of joy...
After practice—which, thanks to the captain's efforts, could be called a complete disaster—Harry was escorting a thoroughly depressed Ron. Flamia, who had watched the practice under the Invisibility Cloak, was quietly sneaking along behind them. Really, he ought to have supported his friend, but Harry frankly couldn't be bothered and believed that he simply needed to wait it out: Ron would get over it, and everything would be fine... But the problems for that day were not yet over.
On the way to the common room (Harry intended to make an appearance there before returning to his room), they decided to take a shortcut through a secret passage. There they ran into Ginny and Dean. Ron, whose mood could already be described as murderous, exploded like a hydrogen bomb because the two were kissing in the most shameless and blatant way imaginable—from his point of view. A quarrel broke out that vividly reminded Harry of certain scenes from the TV shows Aunt Petunia used to watch. Dean hurriedly fled, while brother and sister stood in the middle of the corridor shouting at each other as if they wanted the entire castle to hear. Ron's older-brother syndrome had flared up again, while Ginny shouted at him to mind his own business. Oddly enough, before responding to her brother's attacks, she spent several seconds studying Harry's face as he watched the whole thing with a degree of contempt. He simply could not take Ron's side. Considering what he and Flamia did at night, he ought to keep his mouth shut—and he did. He didn't support Ginny either. Ron was already on edge; there was no need to betray him as well...
And the tone of the argument kept rising and rising... Finally, after Ginny unwisely brought up Hermione and Krum, as well as Ron's expertise in matters of romance, Harry had to intervene, because Ron had already grabbed his wand. Harry almost wished some adult would turn into the corridor, even Filch, but no such luck. Restrained by Harry, Ron responded to Ginny's previous taunts... And only Flamia, who had removed the Cloak in time, prevented Ginny from resorting to extreme measures...
After that whole incident, Ron's nerves became completely useless. Every subsequent practice was worse than the last. The captain shouted at everyone so loudly that even the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest could hear him, and the team was beginning to grumble... On top of that, Ron declared a boycott against poor Hermione, who had only just begun to think they had reconciled...
Harry heard more and more conversations about how Ron urgently needed to be removed from the captaincy, and naturally, Harry himself was considered the obvious replacement... Harry also understood that if they managed to win, everything might still work out, but if they lost, the House would force the captain's badge on him even if he fought against it... And that almost frightened him. Over these past few evenings, he had realized that he had grown out of Quidditch and no longer wanted to play it. No, he still enjoyed flying, but that was all. Besides, with all these practices, time had become critically short... In short, Harry clearly realized that a place on the team, and especially the captain's badge, were about as useful to him as a fifth leg to a dog.
And after Ron crossed every imaginable and unimaginable line during the final practice, to the point that Harry himself wanted to give him a good smack, it became obvious that even defeating Slytherin would not help anymore... And could they even win with such a captain, and with a Seeker who was clearly lacking practice?..
"If we lose, I'll have no choice but to accept the badge..." he gloomily informed Flamia on the last night before the match. "And even if we win, thanks to Ron, the result probably won't be much different..."
"Then we need to make sure Ron plays brilliantly," Flamia immediately found a solution.
"Yeah, and how? Write a letter to Voldemort and ask him to send Mulciber to put him under the Imperius Curse and make him play like a god?" Harry lay there, staring gloomily at the ceiling, and all of Flamia's attempts to tease him out of his mood were failing.
"The letter won't arrive in time..." the girl replied with such adorable seriousness that Harry felt his mood improving despite himself.
They continued the conversation, and little by little, a plan began to take shape...
The next morning the weather was simply magnificent: clear, sunny, and windless. Harry took it as a sign from heaven. When he entered the Great Hall slightly late, three Houses applauded him at once. And Flamia blew him a kiss... The girl had been insisting for some time that it was time to let the world know they were together.
Ron sat at the table, dark as a storm cloud, listlessly stirring a jar of jam with a spoon. Hermione had seated herself some distance away; she was thoroughly sick of Ron's behavior...
"What are you going to drink?" Harry asked with exaggerated cheerfulness.
"Doesn't matter..."
"Then juice it is," Harry decided, filling his goblet and then pulling something from his pocket. He quietly uncorked a bottle, dripped something into the drink, and was about to hide the container in his pocket again when he suddenly sneezed thunderously. Ron reflexively turned around and caught his friend in the act. Harry smiled, and the vial disappeared into his pocket... A crease appeared on Ron's forehead...
As they walked to the stadium, the news kept getting better and better. Slytherin's best Chaser and Malfoy would not be playing... The latter piece of news finally led Ron to the proper conclusion, while Harry frowned... Then, right before the changing room, he caught Hermione's eye. It seemed she had seen everything much more clearly and understood much faster than the person for whom it was intended... But eventually Ron figured it out as well... not immediately, but he did...
The score was sixty to zero in Gryffindor's favor. Ron hung before the hoops with a broad grin, performing wonders no one could do anything about. Zacharias Smith, assigned as commentator, was currently criticizing Harry and expressing doubts that someone could quickly regain form after a year-long break. To be fair, he had reasons for that. Harry flew over the field searching for the Snitch, but right now far too much of his mind was occupied with thoughts of Malfoy. This was nothing like the Draco he remembered from previous years. Instead, Malfoy reminded him of... himself! The version of himself who had found things more important than mocking a rival House and winning the Quidditch Cup. What sort of things were those?..
"And Harry Potter continues circling the field without any visible purpose! Presumably he's thinking about his plans for the evening... Potter!!! We're playing a match here!"
Smith's particularly loud commentary snapped him from his thoughts.
The game had already lasted more than an hour. And Gryffindor led 140–0. Ron and Ginny deserved most of the credit. Harper, playing in Malfoy's place, had abandoned his previous tactics and begun following Harry everywhere. Harry scanned the field once again: nothing... except for a massive Bludger flying straight at his chest!
Harry didn't have time to dodge, change direction, or dive—it would have been pointless in this situation... Obeying a desperate impulse, Harry simply slipped sideways, falling off his broom. All the spectators gasped when Harry Potter suddenly slipped from his Firebolt. Hanging by his hands, he watched the Bludger fly overhead... Meanwhile, the score increased to one hundred and fifty in favor of the Lions. Harry began climbing back onto his broom...
"And Ginny Weasley has possession of the Quaffle once again!" the Hufflepuff commentator resumed. "She's passed one Chaser, then another... Well done, the little devil! She's one-on-one with the Keeper... GOAL! Gryffindor leads 160–0! I can't remember ever seeing anything like this. Potter could just go drink tea now! He's clearly not focused on the game, and now there's nothing he can... Wait! There's the Snitch!"
Harry, who had only just climbed back onto his Firebolt, sprang into action like a warhorse at the sound of a trumpet. Yes, there it was—the golden ball on the opposite side of the field, quite close to the ground...
Harry shot after it, pushing his broom to the limit, but Harper was much closer. In fact, he was practically hanging over the Snitch and now diving rapidly... The golden ball dropped even lower... almost brushing the surface... and Harper accelerated even more...
"He's gone mad! He'll crash so hard he'll be drinking Skele-Gro by the gallon!" Harry thought as he watched his opponent fly closer and closer to the ground and the Snitch... Harper seemed to realize what awaited him and tried to brake... Too late!
With a crash and a crack, accompanied by horrified screams from the spectators, Slytherin's Seeker smashed into the ground...
Landing beside him a few seconds later, Harry noticed the Snitch pinned to the ground beneath Harper's hand...
"Slytherin Seeker Harper has caught the Snitch... Gryffindor wins by a score of 160–150..." Zacharias Smith said into his microphone in a bewildered voice...
The Gryffindor team clearly did not know how to react to such a result. On the one hand, it was a victory, but on the other... Harry, however, was quite pleased with the outcome, though he tried not to show it—there it was, the perfect excuse to say goodbye to the team. Little by little everyone dispersed; the discussion would obviously come later. Harry and Ron remained behind. Ron had just opened his mouth, probably intending to talk about his success—or perhaps Harry's failure—when Hermione entered the changing room. One look at her upset but determined face was enough to guess what she was about to say.
"Harry, I need to talk to you... You shouldn't have done that. Professor Slughorn said it was illegal..."
"So what, are you going to report us?" Ron asked defiantly.
"And what are you talking about?" Harry wearily waved a hand and sat down on a bench. The situation could have been called comical, but it irritated him—and not only the situation.
"You know perfectly well what! You put Felix Felicis in Ron's juice this morning!"
"No." Harry replied in a wooden voice.
"Yes! And that's why two—no, three—Slytherins are out of the game, and Ron caught everything! I saw you pour it into his drink this morning!"
"NO! You didn't see a damned thing!" Harry exploded. "All you saw was me pouring something into Ron's goblet from a bottle that looked a little like a vial of Felix! That's all you saw!" Harry simply pulled from his robe pocket a shrunken butterbeer bottle painted gold. "This is what you saw!" And Harry drained the remaining juice from the bottle in one gulp. "I deliberately made sure Ron noticed my little trick so he'd believe luck was on his side, and it worked perfectly..."
"But...?" Hermione stammered miserably.
"So it was just juice, nothing else?" Ron asked. "And all of this... without the potion?" Harry simply nodded. Ron immediately redirected the attack toward Hermione. "'You put a potion in Ron's drink at breakfast, that's why he saved all those goals.' See? I can play without outside help!"
"I never said you couldn't... Ron, you were the one who thought that!"
But Ron was already striding toward the exit, throwing his broom over his shoulder.
"Well, I think I'll go too," Harry remarked. "I assume the celebration is already starting."
"Go!" shouted his best friend, wiping away tears. "And right now I don't even want to go near Ron! I don't understand what I did wrong this time..." She tried to run from the changing room, but Harry blocked her path.
"Oh, you don't understand? Well then, I can provide a list..." he replied darkly, continuing to block the way. "First of all, Hermione, once again you stuck your nose into business that wasn't yours and where you weren't invited, and you were absolutely convinced you were right! In this short conversation, you managed to insult me, Ron, and possibly the entire team, who just happened not to be here... You know, I thought the Hogsmeade incident might have taught you something, but apparently I was mistaken..." And Harry strode away.
He did not add that, in Ron's eyes, the greatest crime of all had been kissing Viktor Krum.
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