The weather turned warmer for the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. As the team stood waiting to fly out, Harry noticed for the first time that he was taller than one Chaser and the same height as one of the Beaters. He mulled on this unexpected observation as Ron gave them a little pep talk just before flying out. Ron clenched his fist and pounded the air a lot as he urged them on. Harry considered commenting that they all wanted to win as much as Ron, and that he didn’t need to worry about that, but held back.

Finally the door fell open. It felt good to float out over the green expanse. He felt lighter as the memory of the match of last year dimmed, overlaid by the here and now. He appraised Suze, the opposing Seeker, as they waited for Madam Hooch to release the balls. The Slytherin stands were chanting her name in long reverberating calls of suuuuuuuuz that at first sounded like jeering boos.

Hooch gave them a long talking to, giving Harry time to notice that the girl was actually smaller than her broom, which had no label. Harry feared, with a bit of a jolt, that meant it was a custom one. A sinking feeling tried to take hold of Harry’s stomach. No Dementors this time, he reminded himself to help get back in eager game mode.

Madam Hooch’s whistle blew just as the sun cut through the clouds. As Harry turned to take up his circling position, he saw Suze squint her very pale eyes in the bright light. With any luck, the Snitch would stay high, Harry thought.

Slytherin scored first, on their first possession. Harry could read Ron’s lips as he swore and paced between the posts. Suze dove suddenly. Harry, used to being faked out by Malfoy, turned and dove mildly to check if she was serious. When she continued to dive, the crowd began to rise. Harry pushed his speed up a notch. Suze pulled up a few feet from the ground and soared along at ground level, turning suddenly at the far wall and heading straight up. Her broom didn’t seem to believe it had a rider aboard, the way it maneuvered.

Harry forced himself to ignore her and returned to scanning where he normally found the Snitch: above the stands on the periphery. Suze came around beside him and slowed to pace him. The Slytherin stands cheered another goal. Harry ducked to circle lower and when she matched, with a floating ease, ducked again. She sped up then. Harry let her sail ahead and bend around the turn in the pitch. He regained a little altitude and continued looking for the Snitch as the opposition scored yet another goal.

Suze lapped him, coming up close beside on the outside. Harry hoped that she cut off part of the loop, otherwise her broom was faster than he had imagined a broom could be. She sloth-rolled gracefully beneath him to pace on the inside. The crowd murmured at that provocative maneuver. Harry dove suddenly to test her. She matched him so easily it might have appeared to the crowd that they moved as one. Harry re-gripped his broom, feeling moisture between his palms and the straps of his wrist guards.

Every move he made, she matched without appearing to even try. Harry flew in a wider loop and sped up, barely skimming the fabric covering the stands, watching intently for his target and trying to pretend he didn’t have a shadow.

Someone shouted and one of the Slytherin Beaters came at them, swinging hard at a Bludger. Harry’s first thought was to wonder why he was aiming at his own teammate, since Suze was directly in the path of it. His hesitation at this confusion cost him. She curved easily out of the way and the ball careened into Harry’s chest, knocking him back into the fabric of the stands. His shoulder took the brunt of the collision with the wood of the staircase behind the bright cloth, and he ducked his head to try to protect it. Instinctively, he held onto the broom as he fell, bouncing off the tower once, and just righting his flight as he struck the dirt track around the pitch. The crowd made a noise of dismay; he was heartened to hear.

Harry slowly stood himself up off the ground and took a deep breath. No sharp pains resulted from this, so, a little unsteady, he hovered his broomstick. The students in the stands above him were cheering down at him, all Ravenclaws. He gave them a small wave as he kicked off. Ginny swooped low to check on him. He waved her off as well.

More determined now, Harry scanned the pitch. The Slytherin Seeker was circling high, looking about herself with a cold assurance. Harry turned to pace beneath her, feeling she was a little high. She dropped smoothly beside him, giving him a surprised look. Harry wiped his forehead and blood came away on his fingers. He didn’t feel any pain, so he wiped his hand on his cloak and ignored it, and her.

Gryffindor finally managed to score but it was answered within a minute. Harry shook his head and avoided checking on Ron, assuming Ginny would do that. He fell into a mode of cold concentration after that, distracted only by having to wipe away the blood that seeped into his right eye.

They circled slowly until the sun streamed out of the clouds again. Harry tail-turned and angled up at it, accelerating at the limit of his broom. Suze apparently felt she had no choice but to follow. Harry angled steeper and sideways a few times to mimic the way he would have to chase a Snitch. Behind him, he could hear her thick cloak flapping as she trailed close. Without warning, Harry tail-turned again back to level and cut into a tight spiral. He would have cleared her, but she panic-dodged to avoid a collision anyway. They were dizzyingly high, the world rendered in miniature, although the fall from here was hardly more dangerous from one at the height of the stands.

Harry spiraled downward a few turns before kicking violently out of it and plummeting level. Suze flew nearby, indecisive about following. Back at the level of the flags, Harry turned out in a broad, banked circle. She had decided to follow. Harry swerved, using the flag as a pick and forcing her to fly wider. He turned to maximize this advantage and used the next tower again as a pick. She stayed directly behind him after that, so close that he suspected her of holding his bristles. A glance back, as he wiped his face on his sleeve, showed her hands firmly on her own black broom handle. His brow stung fiercely from being rubbed on the gritty fabric of his sleeve, making him look around harder for the Snitch to end the match as soon as possible.

The crowd cheered but Harry didn’t spare any attention for it to find out who had scored. The larger of the two green-clad Beaters loomed up around the next tower. Harry swerved hard and a Bludger struck him on the leg from behind. He had been flying at top speed making the next tower loom fast, requiring him to pull up sharply to avoid it. He clipped the Hogwarts flag on the top of it, sending it end over end to the ground.

Suze was no longer behind him. Harry turned and immediately had to duck a Bludger as he looked for her. She circled broadly, intently looking about for the Snitch. He sped up, then slowed as the Slytherin Beaters rose to block his path. The crowd booed something. Harry leaned back and reversed before dropping into a plummet when the Beaters started forward. He was too close to the ground for this maneuver, but he didn’t care. His padded knees bounced on the grass as he recovered from the drop and looped under the overgrown Slytherins who couldn’t move as agilely.

Harry came up behind Suze, breaking hard to match her. Her white hair was coming loose from its tie, and it flapped madly when she turned suddenly. He followed, forced to grip his broom as hard as he could to stay on it. The wind whipped his clothes as she sped up and he matched again, although it took two breaths for him to gain the same speed. He pulled up very close, this time on the inside, limiting where she could turn. He shifted his weight back on his broom, knowing she would slow down to cut away from him. When she shifted her forward grip, he started breaking, matching her perfectly and leaving her no place to go except to fly farther out of the pitch area. She did so, looping tight considering their speed. Harry cut her off again, anticipating correctly that she would drop lower to avoid him.

Around the pitch they flew in their crazed dance, chased by the green-clad Beaters. Harry barely had any attention for seeking for the Snitch since it took everything he had to stay ahead of her and avoid getting bludgeoned. It required every available ounce of preemptive strategy and hard-won instinct to maintain close proximity to her feather-light form and advanced broom.

She finally slowed down a bit. Harry was out of breath but didn’t dare reveal it. Lack of air made him dizzy, made the flat of the earth tilt like a funhouse. His hands ached as well, and he stretched his hands out one at a time to speed them recovering. He swallowed hard and took a long slow breath to relieve his screaming lungs.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a golden flutter. Relieved more than excited, he didn’t turn his head. Instead, he swerved the other way across the pitch, away from it, toward the Beaters who had returned to harassing the Gryffindor Chasers, who were scoring easily without their interference.

As Harry hoped and expected, one of them noticed him hanging there and redirected a Bludger his way. This gave Harry the perfect excuse to turn back when he swerved to avoid it. Suze, directly behind him, swerved the other way to avoid clipping him. Harry’s heart leapt—she was now heading in completely the opposite direction from the Snitch. He kicked his broom down fast and headed directly at it, finding it easily against the green grass behind it. His head swam with the acceleration.

The Snitch dodged upward as he closed on it, which forced him to break hard and lift, making him dizzier. One hand slipped free of the broom, too tired to hold on. He reached out with it and rolled upside down to stay with his target. The fluttering wings brushed his fingers as something collided with his right side. With no thoughts except for the Snitch, he tugged the broom to meet the collision full on and strained his arm at the shoulder. His hand closed over the struggling thing as another padded arm bumped his with a snapping motion. Harry marveled that Suze could have made it all the way across the pitch that fast.

A roar went through the crowd as the end of the game was announced. Harry, knocked off balance by Suze pulling away suddenly, swung bodily, struggled to right himself over his broom. His vision tunneled down. He curled around himself to recover, but instead, blacked out completely.

For an instant, Harry imagined he was flying, which didn’t alarm him too much. The blackness of his vision did more so. But that was wiped from his mind by his impact with the flat grass of the pitch.

Indistinct voices and running feet roused Harry. A high-pitched, elf-like voice nearby said plaintively, “I’m sorry, Professor. I should have had him beat.”

“You got it!” Ron cried, accompanied by a ceasing charge of pounding footsteps.

Harry opened his eyes. The sun behind Ron was an glowing disk painted behind a drifting cloud. As he looked up at his friend, Harry considered with thoughts the speed of treacle that it used to be much easier to breathe. More faces were appearing in his narrow vision, including Snape’s, much closer.

“Potter,” he said with an ambiguous tone as he crouched and put a hand on Harry’s arm. The wraithlike Slytherin Seeker stood beside Snape, looking glum.

Harry wondered what made him think it was worth it. “Sorry for ruining your game, sir,” Harry said.

“He’s delirious!” Ron shouted. “Quick, get him to Madam Pomfrey.”

Harry found the strength to hold the Snitch up in Ron’s direction, its wings batted at the sides of his hand. Ron took it from him with a wide smile. “Oh, well, that’s all right then,” he said.

Darkness took Harry at that moment with a last fleeting thought that, if he wanted to stay aware, he was going to have to breathe more, despite the invisible troll that was apparently standing on his chest.

Harry woke up in the hospital wing. He felt around for his glasses on the side table and put them on. A basket of chocolate frogs was there as well as some jars of sweets. He wondered how long he’d been out.

“And how are you feeling, Mr. Potter?” Madam Pomfrey asked. She stood at the foot of his bed, hands on her hips, looking very unsympathetic despite her words.

Harry touched the bandage on his forehead. “Not bad, Madam, thank you.”

“You had quite a gash there. It was still bleeding when they floated you in,” she admonished him.

“I couldn’t feel it,” Harry said.

She humpfed, rolled her eyes, and stalked off, muttering something about it not mattering if the Dark Lord was gone as long as there was still Quidditch.

The door to the wing opened and Hermione and Ron stepped in together. When they saw he was awake they rushed over. “Feeling better?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah. Have a frog,” he said. Ron accepted one without meeting his eyes.

“Did Madam Pomfrey tell anyone you were awake?” Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“Professor Snape wanted to be told.” She pulled out her wand and put down the half-eaten frog. Talking around the chocolate, she said, “Let me see if I can do this.” She closed her eyes and said, “Flickerus Pravda Snape.” She pointed the wand at the wall in the direction of the rest of the castle. A silver bird shot out of it and disappeared through the stone. At Harry’s impressed look, she said, “It only seems to work about half the time. I wasn’t going to show it off until I had it down better.”

Pomfrey stepped over to them. “Can Harry leave soon?” Hermione asked her.

“A double dose of blood replenisher requires a six-hour stay,” she stated, leaving no room for argument. After straightening the covers with sharp movements, she stepped away again.

“Too bad,” Hermione said. “You’ll miss dinner.” She took another bite of frog.

Harry pushed himself up a little straighter. His body complained in many, many places as he did so, making him glad he didn’t have to move until at least late in the evening. He reached for a frog as well and unwrapped it slowly.

The door to the wing opened and Snape stepped in. Harry rubbed his eyes to try to perk himself up some and set his uneaten sweet on the nightstand where it shuffled around in a circle before solidifying. Snape’s expression as he approached wasn’t interpretable. Ron reflexively stepped aside to get out of his way, although he didn’t need to move all the way to the end of the bed, which he did. Ron put his hands in his pockets and looked away.

Harry turned from him to Snape, who stood beside the bed with his arms crossed. “Feeling better, I presume?” he asked. Snape’s eyes flickered over to Ron, who studiously stared down the wing toward Pomfrey’s office.

Harry began to have a sinking feeling that something had happened after he had passed out. “Yes, sir,” Harry said. His shoulder throbbed at that moment and it occurred to him that winning wasn’t necessarily fun after all.

“Ms. Zepher is considering resigning as Seeker.”

“She shouldn’t,” Harry said stridently.

“Yes,” Snape said. “I tried to explain that she lost not a battle of skill but one of will, of which she has far less experience than yourself. Perhaps you would speak with her, should you see her.”

“Sure,” Harry said, disregarding the startled look of dismay this caused on Ron’s face.

Snape uncrossed his arms. “Should you need anything, Harry…” he said then looked between them. “I don’t know who sent the bird.”

Harry pointed at Hermione. “Hm,” Snape said and turned to her. “Dumbledore would be most pleased to see his spell being replicated by a student. You need to temper your power, though, it burned out very fast after it arrived.”

She brightened at that and fell thoughtful. “I’ll show Harry,” she said.

Snape nodded at her and departed with a swish of his cloak. Ron relaxed, sighing with relief when the door closed.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and taught Harry the silver bird spell. She then asked Ron to stand outside in the hallway to signal if he had received one because getting it to go through a wall was the hardest part. When their friend was out of hearing range, Hermione said, “Ron lost it with Professor Snape after you passed out. It was ugly. He’s lucky he didn’t get turned into a newt or get a lifetime’s detention or something. Give it a try,” she said.

Harry, distracted by her story, couldn’t generate anything. She started from the beginning, explaining the spell all over again, sending a bird through the wall to Ron, who waved in the window of the door that he got it. Harry put aside his questions and nearly panicked concern, and incanted the spell. A silver arrow that bounced off the wall was all he managed. He tried several more times, doing no better.

“Finish the story. Pomfrey will have let me go before I get this right.”

Hermione sent another one, apparently to keep Ron occupied rather than to demonstrate. “It was really unfortunate, too, because it was clear to everyone else that Professor was really worried about you.” She sighed, her eyes unfocused as she said, “Professor Snape put Ron in his place so forcefully that some of the Slytherins are demanding a new Head of House.”

“What?” Harry asked. He tried the spell again. The silver arrow left a burn mark on the wall this time. “Why?”

“He made it a little too clear, although he didn’t say it outright, that you were all that mattered,” Hermione said cautiously.

Harry gave her a doubtful look then felt chagrined. He tried the spell again, this time it was a bird, but it spiraled away out the window. Ron opened the door and watched it leave. “I don’t think I’m going to get it,” Harry said to him.

“I can’t either,” Ron commented, “so that makes me feel better.”

Harry intentionally didn’t react to Ron’s talking to him, although he and Hermione shared a very fleeting look of understanding as Ron sighed and fidgeted a bit.

Harry saw Suze the next day, sitting in the Great Hall after lunch. She was with a small group of younger Slytherins whom Harry didn’t know. The rest of the Slytherin table was empty. Harry waved his friends off and stepped over there. The group looked up in surprise at his approach.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked Suze.

She blinked her pale flat eyes at him and shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll see you ’round,” she said to her friends as she slid off the bench.

She followed Harry to the front of the room to the bench below the tall window off the end of the head table. She reluctantly, it seemed, sat beside him and didn’t meet his eyes.

“Professor Snape mentioned that you were considering leaving the team,” Harry said. She clasped her hands together and didn’t respond. “Don’t do that. If we played ten matches, you’d win the next nine, I’m certain,” Harry said with painful honesty.

She looked up, her white brow furrowed. Harry wondered if she were part something other than human, or just lacked color. “What year are you?” he asked.

“Third,” she said.

“You have all those years of Quidditch ahead,” Harry said, sounding a little jealous, which at one level he was. “You’re very good now. Even just another year is going to make you completely unbeatable.” He could see the impact of his words in her eyes. It made him nervous to think he had that much sway.

Her eyes moved over him at that. “You think I am good enough to play?” she asked slowly.

“Are you kidding? You are the optimal seeker and you have a killer broom. You just need a little more playing experience. Some things you can’t pick up on the practice pitch. Don’t quit because you lost to me,” Harry insisted. “I’d feel really awful if you did that.”

She appeared astonished by this.

“I gave that match everything I had and it was essentially a tie. And you didn’t end up in the hospital wing overnight, so in essence, you won.” When she didn’t reply, he went on, “Learning to lose and keep going is an essential skill in everything—you’ll set a bad precedent for yourself if you give up this easily now.”

“I let my team down,” she said quietly. “Everyone else was playing really well.”

“Hey, they want to put up another Seeker against you, let them try. I can’t imagine they have another one better than you.”

She went thoughtful at that. “Hmmmm,” she breathed in a light sing song.

Harry stood up and Suze nodded a goodbye. She looked like she was going to sit there for a while longer, thinking.

“Are you brewing in the dungeon today?” Harry asked his guardian the next Sunday as he stood just inside the office door.

“No,” Snape replied, “the stocks are set until next term.”

“Oh,” Harry said, a little disappointed. He wandered around the office a bit, pulling down a book about the history of Dementors.

A knock sounded on the door and Malfoy stepped in. “Professor, I have—” he stopped upon seeing Harry. “Figures you’d be here.” To Snape he said, “I have my extra credit essay,” he said, handing over a scroll. “For what it’s worth,” he added darkly.

Snape unrolled it and glanced at it. “If it makes you feel any better, Mr. Malfoy, I will inform you that I am grading Mr. Potter twice as hard as yourself, or any of the other students.”

“What?” Harry blurted. Snape did not even bother looking up, just went about filing the essay in a drawer.

Malfoy laughed at Harry, got control of himself, and then laughed again as he departed. The laughter echoed in the hallway. Harry shoved the book he held back onto the shelf. Dully, he said, “I’d better get back to revising.”

Harry sat in the common room reading his Potions notes. He was bored with it, with all studying, really. His eyes kept getting dragged back to the flames in the hearth which, despite being pretty ordinary, were much more interesting than bone growth potions.

Hermione dropped into the chair across from him. “You aren’t waiting until the last minute again, are you?”

“What?” Harry asked her.

She gave him a disapproving look, not unlike the one usually reserved for Ron. “The Christmas Ball, Harry,” she said as though he were a little slow.

“Headmistress just announced it two days ago. I have two weeks,” Harry retorted. At her raised brow, he frowned. “Okay, I get your point.”

More quietly, she said, “Whom are you going to ask?”

Harry laughed painfully. “I have no idea.”

“Whom would you like to?”

“Tonks,” Harry returned without thinking.

Hermione took that in. “Really?” At Harry’s shrug, she said, “She’s a little old for you. She must be twenty-three, twenty-four.”

“I wasn’t serious about inviting her—you just asked me who I’d like to ask,” Harry retorted.

“Oh,” Hermione murmured, looking a bit parental in her judgement now.

Harry frowned more deeply. “I hate these things,” he said darkly, accepting the truth of it as he did so. At her sad look, he explained, “There isn’t a girl in this school I can connect with.”

“That’s not true, Harry,” she said, sounding a little offended. “I understand you.” After a pause she added, “Ginny does too.”

“She’s going with Dean.”

Very quietly, Hermione said, “I think she’d rather go with you.”

“I’m not getting into that,” Harry stated firmly.

Hermione sat back, “Let’s see. Seventh-year girls,” she murmured as she tapped her finger on the chair arm. She mumbled off a few names thoughtfully. Eventually she frowned. “How about Sixth Years?” At Harry’s shrug, she thought some more. “Mirna isn’t too bad. A Ravenclaw. And she just broke up with someone she was really close with for three years…so she is…probably not the best bet.”

Harry stepped into Snape’s office and dropped into the visitor’s chair with a huff. “Can I borrow Candy for the ball?” he asked in frustration.

Snape eyed him oddly. “You cannot be sincere about that request.”

“McGonagall insists I have a partner, if not a date.” More angrily, Harry said, “This Ball is apparently a bit of a P.R. thing. The press has been invited as well to show, quote, how much things have returned to normal here.”

“Harry,” Snape said sharply. “You are not being singled out and used, as you seem to be implying.” Harry looked away at that, still fuming. Snape said stiffly, “Step out into the hallway there.” He gestured with his hand. “And ask the next girl who comes along. She will most certainly say, ‘yes’.”

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor and flushed.

“What is the problem?” Snape asked harshly.

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled.

“It is one ball, Potter. Not a commitment. Just a party. I think you are taking it far too seriously. You are the single most famous individual in this school. Half the girls who already have dates would drop them if asked to go by you.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Harry snapped. He wondered fleetingly what Cho was doing now. Her last letter was months ago, she was probably busy. Harry asked, “You don’t think McGonagall is using me?”

“I should hope not. And if you feel that to be true, you should most definitely discuss it with her, as I am certain she would not want you believing that.” Snape sounded as though his anger had solidified somehow.

Feeling worse than he did before coming in, Harry stood up to stalk out.

“Harry,” Snape said in a less harsh tone. “I don’t mean to be…unsympathetic to what you clearly believe is a dilemma, but you are making much too much of this.” At Harry’s frown, he went on. “Pick a girl. Ask her. And you will be finished with it. There are literally hundreds of girls in this school, surely one of them will suffice for one evening.”

Harry could hear in his tone that Snape truly was unsympathetic, but Harry wasn’t looking for sympathy, he didn’t think, just a way out. With a frown at the heat of anger that still burned in his chest, Harry departed.