The weeks slunk past, and Harry waited longingly for October and the start of Quidditch season. There was something refreshingly pointless about Quidditch; when he was worried about Quidditch, he wasn’t worried about something else, something more serious. Often as he sat in class, battling with his transfiguration assignment or suffering through Snape’s lectures, he gazed out the window, smiling at the perfect Quidditch weather, and thinking forebodingly that it would probably be gone by the time it was time to fly again.

The first Hogsmeade weekend, a month early so that the students could collect their supplies, was a welcome break from the monotony of class work and Hermione’s constant reminders that this was their second chance and that N.E.W.T.s were at the end of the year. She had stamped off furious when Ron told her that they hadn’t taken their first chance as they were busy hunting horcruxes, but had come back soon after with study schedules.

As they strode down the path to Hogsmeade arm in arm, Harry reflected that they didn’t need to make up because they quarreled that way several times a day when they weren’t really fighting. He rested a hand protectively over the pocket of his jeans with the coin bag delivered that morning by way of Bodmin from Gringotts, and ducked into Gladrags Wizardwear, disappearing before Hermione and Ron noticed.

The pudgy shopkeeper padded over to him, and smiled obsequiously with the sort of smile Harry was coming to recognize as the smile of a man who only smiled because he was Harry potter. He wore an aggressively purple robe trimmed in lurid green, and if Harry hadn’t shopped there before, he might have been frightened off. “What can I help you with, sir?” he purred.

Harry glanced toward the door. “Just Hogwarts robes, please.”

“Ah yes, we’ll be seeing a lot of students today,” he led Harry back into the fitting rooms and snapped for one of his shop assistants to measure him.

When he left the shop, his arms full of his robes and his ears full of a lecture on magical tailoring that he hadn’t understood and didn’t much care about, he spotted Malfoy skulking into a second hand store and grinned. The Malfoy estate had been frozen pending their trial, and though Harry didn’t doubt that they had something stashed away, it didn’t look like Draco Malfoy could get to it.

~*~

Suddenly Hogwarts had become a sea of black again. Even the first and second years, whose parents had sent their robes and supplies by owl, were in their new uniforms. For a few days, it was strange after seeing everybody in their every day clothes to be back in uniform, but then it was comfortingly normal again, and it looked even more like the Hogwarts Harry knew.

Ron and Hermione ambushed him at dinner. “Where on earth did you disappear to?” Hermione asked exasperated, “one minute you were there and the next you were gone we couldn’t find you anywhere, we were worried!”

Ron shuffled his feet awkwardly listening to her lecture Harry, who shrugged. “I just went to buy uniforms and school stuff.” His new trunk stood at the foot of his bead full of new uniforms, parchment, quills, ink, potions supplies, a cauldron, scales, and mostly new books along with older better loved possessions like the Marauders’ Map and invisibility cloak. It felt as if he had moved into Hogwarts again, instead of camping there, and as if Hogwarts was Hogwarts again and that something that had been missing from the school that he hadn’t realized was missing was back in place.

“We were worried,” Hermione repeated, and Harry thought she really might have been, but not entirely for him. “You should have told us.”

Harry shrugged again and Ron leapt to his defense, “you aren’t his mum, Hermione.” Harry quite agreed, but his mind was on something other than Hermione’s snooping, something much more important.

Quidditch practice time bookings started Monday morning, and each year the captains rushed out of their rooms before any sensible person even woke up, before even Oliver Wood had dragged his team bodily out of bed for practice, to wait at Madam Hooch’s office door, each eager to be the first to book the pitch. Michael Corner, the new Ravenclaw captain, was widely rumored to be planning to sleep beside her doorway.

His eyes glazed over as he thought about Quidditch until Ron poked him between the shoulder blades, “You bought everything today at least; you can spend tomorrow with us.” Harry nodded.

~*~

With Quidditch season in its first bloom, Harry called his team together. He spared a moment to thank the wisdom of Oliver and Angelina in staggering the team’s ages and that the team’s only new face was Dean, and he had flown with them before. “We aren’t playing Slytherin in the first match.” He sighed. At least Gryffindor had some warning. “The ministry set a trial date for the Malfoys, and Malfoy has to testify that day.” Harry didn’t mention that he had been called to testify the ext day himself. “So they’ve switched with Hufflepuff.”

“Wonderful,” grumbled Ginny, “Malfoy’s managed to dodge playing us first again.” Harry refrained from reminding her that she hadn’t been on the team at the time he had managed it originally, because she was only showing team spirit, which he didn’t want to discourage. Besides, it had been his first loss, and he didn’t want to think about it. It had been a rotten match all around. Even Cedric Diggery hadn’t much enjoyed his victory.

“For once we can’t blame the Slytherins for intentionally trying to wrong foot us,” Harry reminded them, “and we have plenty of warning.” Most of the team, especially Ron looked as if they couldn’t believe it wasn’t all an elaborate and improvable Slytherin plot to avoid playing them. Harry wished he could agree. He wished they were playing Ravenclaw instead. Michael Corner had slept in front of Madam Hooch’s door, until Filch caught him and hauled him away to face detention. He had last pick of times instead of first, and hadn’t been able to squeeze much practice time out of the packed schedule.

“I hope Luna’s going to be commenting again this year,” Dean remarked.

~*~

It was a lovely autumn day, one of the ones that felt like summer still as the Gryffindor Quidditch team trooped down to the pitch in their red and gold robes. A slight breeze played with the edges of their robes, but it wasn’t strong enough to interfere with steering, or with any of the balls except the Snitch. In short, they had perfect Quidditch conditions for their first match.

Before the players kicked off into the air, he and Zacharias Smith shook hands with a wary respect that might have bordered on distant fondness, neither could say. It was strange to be fighting someone, even playing Quidditch with someone who had stood beside him to fight for the salvation of Hogwarts and the redemption of the Wizarding World. Harry couldn’t quite articulate the feeling, but it felt wrong, nearly sacrilegious.

Harry nodded once to his teammates and took off at madam Hooch’s whistle. As the team fell into their positions, Harry circled lazily above the pitch, watching for the Snitch. It struck him that his vantage point was also useful as a captain, because he could see everything that his teammates did with less of a chance that a stray Bludger was going to take his head off.

“Zacharias Smith’s trying to score, but I don’t think he’s going to get it in…” the farmiliar voice floated up to him, somehow giving the impression of sleepy quiet even with magical amplification. Harry watched furious as Hufflepuff’s two Beaters both swooped in to whack Bludgers at Ron, just as Smith threw the Quaffle. Ron cartwheeled to avoid them, and the Quaffle flew through the center hoop. “They look like bubble blowers, don’t they,” was all Luna had to say.

Almost as soon as the Quaffle was in play again, Smith had a hold of it and was speeding towards the Gryffindor hoops. Ginny caught up with him and slipped in beside him, elbowing him in the ribs. As he tried to dodge, she grabbed his arm, trying to wrestle the Quaffle away from him. He ripped his arm away from her before she could secure her hold and pushed her off him. Her broom careened sideways as she fought for balance. “That’s Ginny Weasley,” Luna murmured into the magical microphone. “I don’t think she likes Smith much.” Righting herself, Ginny waved her fist and mimed slitting her throat as Smith soared relentlessly back to the hoops. Madam Hooch called a penalty to Hufflepuff, and Harry balled his hands into fists.

Instead of dodging the Bludgers that the Hufflepuff Beater, Branstone, sent hurtling towards him, this time, Ron sped to intercept the Quaffle, even as the Bludgers intercepted him, one right after another. They sent him spiraling through a hoop, Quaffle in hand, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle, signaling another goal for Hufflepuff.

Harry snarled and circled the pitch, searching for the tell tale glint of the Snitch in the sunlight. It was best, he decided, if the game ended quickly. A Bludger whipped just under him as Richard Coote pelted it at one of the Hufflepuff Beaters, but she just sent it back at Ron as he tried to block Cadwallader. “The Gryffindor uniforms are probably infested with grumblethumps,” Luna informed them. “They like red.” Harry doubted anyone else had ever heard of grumblethumps either.

Harry’s eyes darted over the pitch as Demelza Robins rushed her way to the Hufflepuff hoops, Ginny and Dean trying to flank her. Cadwallader, who Luna didn’t even try to name, swung in front of her and grabbed the Quaffle away from her while she tried to push him away.

When Ron found himself pummeled with one Bludger and Demelza with the other, and the Quaffle soared through the goal posts again, Harry chose to keep his eyes on the sky for the Snitch, unable to watch. It was only when an exasperated Flitwick announced that the score was eighty zero to Hufflepuff that Harry saw a flash of gold.

He dove after it, but just as he opened his hand to grab it, a Bludger collided with his back and he pitched forward, grabbing his broom handle as he flipped end over end. He panted heavily, and the Snitch had vanished before he could right himself. In hot pursuit of the offending Bludger, Jimmy Peaks hit it at Branstone with a force that suggested he was contemplating murdering the Hufflepuff Beater.

Harry listened as the score rose, ninety zero, one hundred zero, one hundred ten zero, and because Ginny had fouled Zacharias Smith and Hooch granted the Hufflepufs a penalty, one hundred twenty zero. The glare Ginny sent Branstone as she snatched up the Quaffle and pivoted towards the Hufflepuff hoops made Harry wonder if the Beater might need to watch her back off pitch, but she just grinned at the Chaser’s ire and pelted a Bludger straight at her as she swooped in to score. The other Hufflepuff Beater sent a Bludger at Jimmy Peaks as he tried to deflect the first. Ginny’s leg hung at an odd angle from where the Bludger had pounded into it, and the blow to Peaks had sent him lurching to the other end of the field, gasping.

When Ron finally did intercept the Quaffle, he threw it haphazardly at Dean, who slid off his broom when it hit him square in the chest. Fortunately he caught the broom handle before he fell, but Harry called a time out. As they landed, Ginny guiding Dean’s broom down as he just tried to cling to it, Ginny snarled exasperated and struggling to speak coherently with the pain in her leg, “Harry! Ron’s being a prat again.”

Ron wasn’t far behind her. Hunching in on himself from the bruises forming where the Bludgers kept hitting, he gasped, “Harry, Ginny’s acting like captain again.” His words were almost, but not quite a whine.

“Oh…er…” Harry didn’t know what to say to them.

Dean massaged his chest roughly. “Merlin, you’re treating him like he’s your mother.” Any jealousy Harry had been feeling evaporated, and he shot Dean a grateful look.

The look that he gave his team as a whole however, was bleak. “We’re almost at the point where we would lose if I caught the Snitch.”

“It isn’t our fault!” Ginny raged, her face the color of glue. She hadn’t dismounted with the others because she couldn’t dismount. Her leg wouldn’t support her if she tried. “How are we supposed to score if every time we try, a Bludger smashes into us?” She glowered at Peaks, who was swaying as he stood, and at Coote, who backed away. “Where are you two?” she demanded.

Peaks sat down heavily. “We’re trying,” he retorted weakly.

Harry whirled on him, “Well try harder, because unless you can keep those Bludgers off us, the whole team will be sent to the hospital wing!” He paced back and fourth, his back throbbing with every step. “Ginny, I want you to sit this one out; you can’t fly with your leg like that.”

Her hands clutched on her broom handle. “Watch me Harry.”

“Ginny, your leg’s broken.”

“I’m not going to let that Branstone girl stop me from playing.”

“I hobe she falls ovv her broom,” Demelza Robins hissed around a badly bleeding broken nose, and Harry couldn’t help agreeing as the whole team nodded.

Harry gave the signal and Madam Hooch’s whistle blew to resume play. In the air again, his eyes scraped the air, franticly searching for the Snitch before his team lost anyway. Suddenly, he saw it, flickering beside the Hufflepuff goals, and while the Beaters on both teams watched Cadwallader racing to score, Harry dove after it. At the last minute, the Hufflepuff Beaters saw him, and he felt the Bludgers zoom past him, catching in his robes. Yet, even as the Hufflepuff Beaters lobbed Bludgers at him instead of Ron, Ron couldn’t summon the strength to block the Quaffle, battered as he was, and it sailed though the hoop.

But as the Hufflepuff stands filled with cheering, Harry opened his hand. He grinned wildly and closed his hand around the Snitch, the wings beating against his fingers helplessly. The Gryffindor supporters erupted into cheers, but Harry’s grin faded as he drifted into a landing. Grim satisfaction took its place briefly, but that faded too as his team mates gathered around him. As they limped, floated, and slunk into the school, none of them felt much triumph.

~*~

It gave Severus a sense of visceral satisfaction whenever he watched Bludgers pummel the members of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. He enjoyed a Quidditch game not involving his own house team for the first time in a while. As a Hogwarts professor, he had to watch every inter-house game, but even as a student, he had little interest in the sport. The only interest it held for him was the license it gave him to gloat when Slytherin won. Of course, that alone was deeply satisfying.

When he had been a student, Madam Richthofen, the Quidditch coach of the time, had called him a natural, but he never tried out for Quidditch. Playing hadn’t appealed to him, especially after James Potter and Sirius Black had become Gryffindor Chaser and Beater respectively. He wanted to have nothing in common with them.

But he could fly, and now he knew why.

~*~

Madam Pomfrey healed their collection of bruises and broken bones, but insisted that everyone except Richard Coote, who was uninjured, and Dean stay the night. In the morning, Demelza’s black eyes made her look like a raccoon, Harry’s back still felt stiff, and Ginny had to develop a sort of skip to her walk to avoid bending her knee, which made Harry very glad he would never face Hufflepuff’s Beaters again.

Before Madam Pomfrey had a chance to fuss over him again, Snape dropped a uniform onto his bed and snapped at him to get up. “The headmistress has requested I escort you to the Ministry to testify, Potter.”

Harry glowered at him, “Good morning to you too.”

By the time Snape had a chance to reply, Harry had disappeared behind a curtain to change. “Do you want me to give you a detention?”

Harry poked his head around the curtain. “No, I want a comb; do you have one?” Snape snarled at him as he pushed the curtain back and ran his fingers through his hair. For a moment, he thought about tying his hair, long from a year left free to grow, back, but Snape controlled his own unruly mop of Potter hair by tying it back, and Harry didn’t want to do anything to emphasize their similarity in appearance. He vowed to have it cut next Hogsmeade weekend as his fingers caught in a tangle.

“Are you ready yet?” Snape hissed, and Harry nodded and followed him out of the school and across the grounds to the Apparition barrier. Snape paused to glance at him as they trudged and conjured a comb. “Do something about your hair,” he spat. “You look ridiculous.”