“You’re mental!” Ron cried out as Hermione presented him with a study table. They were sitting in the common room, Hermione pouring over her books while Ginny paced nervously rereading some important essay for Charms.

“Ron, considering we’re in N.E.W.T. classes, we’re given exams to make sure that we are legible to continue in say class.” Hermione lectured as Ron gaped at her.

“Meaning,” Harry commented, “that if we fail we can get kicked out.” Ron pursed his lips together darkly and stared at the study chart. She only left them a few hours of free time each week.

“You’d almost think we were taking the N.E.W.T. s,” Ron snarled as Hermione slapped down a chart in front of Harry and went back to her own essay. Harry realized that she had left open the times for Remedial Potions. He sighed slightly. The truth was, he didn’t need them anymore, but either it was him, not requesting to get out, or Snape, not bothering to tell him to stop coming.

Either way, Harry found himself at ease when he did them. In a way, he rather enjoyed it because he didn’t have to worry about anything and if, by some odd chance, they started talking, it was always about something trivial.

Outside it was snowing heavily, which meant bad weather for their Quidditch game this coming Saturday.

“C’mon Harry, seeing let’s go get use to this conditions,” Ron muttered, bluntly ignoring the time slot that declared it time for studying Transfiguration. Hermione shot them a dark look, but Harry, not up for studying, leapt to his feet and took off quickly.

“We’ll cream Slytherin, I’m sure of it!” Ron said, pounding his fist into his hand as they trudged through the snow. Ron had a quaffle under his arm, so he could work on blocking.

The Quidditch pitch, charmed to not let snow rise above a foot, was thickly layered. Harry smiled slightly. What he told Snape was true, he’d never make it as a Professional Quidditch player; he loved the game but not that much. Yet, he’d play it until he left Hogwarts.

They spent almost two hours playing. After a while, they abandoned throwing the quaffle and started to throw snowballs at each other. Ron made tight, small ones and threw some for Harry to dive and catch. Yet, soon it was just a snowball fight.

Finally, they gave up there game, from just being cold stiff, and went indoors. They sprinted into the Entrance Hall, laughing and ducking a few scattered snowballs. Ron threw one, just as they entered, and Harry dodged it easily. Ron turned and watched the ball of white soar through the air and landed on the back of an unwitting professor.

Ron’s eyes had gone wide, and Harry was already backing away slowly.

Slowly, and in the most deadly way, Professor Snape turned around, his black eyes flashing. First they dug themselves into Harry’s eyes, and then they snapped onto Ron, who gulped.

“Mr. Weasley, will you please accompany me to my office?” It was the farthest thing from a request Harry had ever heard. Ron nodded a bit.

“It’s my worst nightmare come true,” Ron gulped as he trailed after Snape, slowly and anxiously. Snape had already charmed the snow from his hair. Harry waited until his friend was out of sight before walking off.

“Where’s Ron?” Hermione demanded the instant Harry sat down at the table in the Common Room.

“Threw a snowball and it hit Professor Snape,” Harry informed, and Ginny looked up horrified.

“Will I ever see my brother again?” she asked, her voice easily teasing.

“Depends, really,” Harry laughed but Hermione had already stood up, and was slamming her books closed. “What’s up with you?”

“Have Prefect duty, sometimes this duty stuff really bites into my time.” With that she left and Harry turned to Ginny, wide-eyed.

“Did she just insult being a Prefect?” he asked and Ginny nodded a bit. “We’re just going mental.” Harry mumbled darkly. After that, he joined Neville in a game of Globstones and then headed to bed. Tucked away in his trunk was what he had been carving for Ginny, but it was coming along slowly. His free time seemed to be waning.

Ron wasn’t there by time Harry fell asleep, but Harry had gone to bed early.

The problem with going to bed early, for Harry at least, was that he always ends up waking at ungodly times in the morning. The next morning, he woke up at six o’clock and couldn’t go back to sleep.

Finally, after lying there for a few minutes Harry pulled himself out of bed, got dressed and went into the common room. He worked on Ginny’s carving for a while and then decided to go downstairs.

He knew breakfast ranged from seven thirty to eight thirty. Upon entering the hall, he found it deserted but food popped up on the table at his entry. Shrugging, he sat down and began to eat, slowly.

After a few minutes of an unnerving silence, Harry having buried his head into his right hand and eating he just barely didn’t notice the door open and someone enter. He felt oddly alone, like how the boggart had made him feel that one day. He had until that time, tried not to think about it but yet he seemed to understand it.

He knew he’d never be alone, with the Weasleys and Hermione and everyone else that were his friends, but this was a different sort of alone. One he couldn’t explain. Shuddering a bit, Harry pressed his head into his hand a bit more.

Suddenly, someone sat across from him. Startled Harry looked up and found the Potions Master, Professor Snape, sitting opposite him, his thoughts all seeming set on buttering his toast.

“Err—morning, Professor,” Harry said, his voice a bit grateful. He wasn’t sure why, but he was glad that the man had sat down with him.

“Morning, Mr. Potter,” Snape said with a quick glance up. They sat in silence after that. But it wasn’t the usual silence that fell between them as it was during Remedial Potions, just a comfortable silence.

They ate like for a long time, before the voices of the students began to drift down. Professor Snape stood up and retreated out of the hall, Harry having no doubt as to why. A student walking in and seeing Professor Snape and Harry Potter eating breakfast together wouldn’t be the best thing. They might, if Hufflepuff or Neville, faint, or just think they’re mental.

By time Ron and Hermione came down to breakfast the whole student body seemed to already be there. “Hey, mate, how long have you been here?”

“Hmm...a while, I just woke up early.” Harry mumbled as Ron rolled his eyes.

Later, Harry found himself walking into Potions class with Ron and Hermione flank on each side of him.

“I’m telling you, mate, if we teach ‘em ‘o to do that charm, we’ll never win a duel again. I don’t think I can stand to lose to Ernie,” Ron complained.

“I don’t think it works that way, mate!” Harry sighed. “Anyway, it’s the next spell in the book, and Gary’s not doing any better, Snape only subs the days that Gary had nothing planned, so we’ve got to teach it. And if you’re worried about losing to Ernie...well, just don’t duel him.” Hermione snorted at this while Ron glared.

Neville motioned for Harry to set up next to him, while Ron and Hermione continued the arguing about teaching the DA the spell or not.

“This is a burning potion, if made correctly it’ll burn your skin quicker then you can blink. So those who are prone to accidents might want to be extra careful.” Snape informed glancing pointedly at Neville.

“Great,” Neville moaned as Snape put the ingredients on the board.

“The ingredients will disappear from the board in thirty minutes.” Snape called out and instantly the students scrambled to write down the list.

“I still don’t see why we should,” Ron continued complaining. “It’s a hard spell; we don’t even have it down completely.”

“Ronald, stow it!” Hermione finally snapped, startling half the class. On a quieter note, Hermione added. “Ron, they look to us to teach ‘em, so we should. Not hold back because we don’t want to risk them getting stronger then us.”

Ron looked annoyed but didn’t say anything. After a while a tempered silence fell between them. Harry shared a look with Neville that clearly stated that the next DA meeting would be bad.

Snape was making his rounds, eyeing each potion with his usual praises for the Slytherins and sneers for the Gryffindors. Hermione seemed to be doing okay and as she added ingredients, she made sure that she didn’t splash up any of the liquid.

Harry leaned back, his potion stewing for a few moments and looked around at his classmates. Ron looked horrified, his potion was orange instead of bright red, Hermione looked calm and Malfoy looked bored. He was just slopping his ingredients in without a care.

Snape leaned over, whispered something and Malfoy stopped tossing his ingredients. Harry raised an eyebrow; he had never seen something like that before.

Glancing sideways, he found Neville’s potion actually the right color. Neville had pulled Harry aside one day and told him Snape had pulled him aside for an extra lesson in potions and showed him a better way to make the potion. He suggested to Neville to think of the potion as a plant, which he was growing.

Harry smiled to himself at that thought. He had suggested one day to Snape that he did what he had with Harry and breaking a curse, or spell, and comparing it to a potion. It had worked. Apparently he had taken the advice. Not that Harry would ever comment on it.

Harry watched as Neville grabbed some spider legs and made to add them. Staring, Harry glanced at Neville’s potion list and then back at the potion. Suddenly, Harry realized that Neville had missed an ingredient.

“Neville, no!” Harry cried out, but it was too late. Neville had dropped the spider legs into the potion. Without a thought, Harry grabbed the collar of Neville’s robes and dragged him down, and Hermione instantly cast a shielding charm around her and Ron.

The potion exploded not a second later, showering the place where Harry and Neville once stood and sprinkling Hermione and Ron. Yet there was too much potion and it was moving too fast. Harry found himself placing himself between the Potion and Neville.

He closed his eyes, expecting the worse, and for a minute he felt only pain as the potion splattered his back lightly. Then it stopped. Sighing, he shook his back the best he could and the pain disappeared.

Turning, Harry found Snape standing between him and the potion, his wand raised. The potion was frozen in the air, inches from being splattered onto Snape’s chest. Harry stood up slowly, dragging Neville up with him. He instantly regretted the move.

Hissing in pain, Harry stepped backwards, Neville pushing a bit into him. The boy was shaking and pale with horror. Neville’s movement caused Harry to stumble a bit and slam his right hand into some of the potion that was onto puddles on the desktops.

Snape spun around instantly at Harry’s cry of pain, which was something that he couldn’t hold back when slamming his hand into a skin burning potion. “Miss Granger, watch the class.” With a wave of his wand all the potions in all the cauldrons disappeared. “If anyone tries to make this potion while I’m gone, you’ll wish you never heard the word Hogwarts.”

With that he grabbed Harry by his shoulder and led him out of the classroom. Snape led him quickly to the Hospital Wing without a word and then pushed him onto a bed; Harry was surprised to find it was the one he pointed out as being his favorite, before calling Madame Pomfrey.

“Again, Mr. Potter? Back so soon?” Madame Pomfrey demanded with a raised eyebrow.

“Burning Potion, on the back and right hand,” Snape informed and instantly Madame Pomfrey scuttled away. “I’ve got to go back to class, Mr. Potter, before who knows what happens.” Snape informed before turning and whisking off.

“Take off your shirt Mr. Potter; I need to see to your back.” Madame Pomfrey ordered, and for the next hour Harry’s back was pasted over in cream while his hand was bandaged up lightly. It hurt, stung, whenever he closed it into a fist. “This cream will make you tired Mr. Potter, make sure you take it easy.”

Finally, after a good hour and a half, Harry was free to go to the Great Hall. Neville instantly dived forward, his face pale and his eyes near tears. “I’m so sorry Harry, I really am.”

“It’s okay Neville, really.” Harry said sheepishly. Ron was eyeing his hand.

“Will you be able to play Quidditch with that hand?” he asked, worriedly.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, but he looked at his own hand in worry. Squeezing it into a fist was one of the most painful things ever. But he wouldn’t admit it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t play,” Hermione commented worriedly.

“Are you kidding me?” Ron asked in horror. “We’re playing Slytherin, without Harry we’ll die.”

“You’re mental,” Harry muttered. “Anyway, my hand should be fine by Monday.” Neville was still pale and he was looking down sadly. “Neville it’s really okay, I’m fine.” Neville didn’t respond, but Harry couldn’t say much beyond that. To a point, it really was Neville’s fault, but Harry couldn’t really blame him too much.

“C’mon, Harry, let’s go work with your hand and catching,” Ron said as Snape stalked by.

“I better not, let’s do it tomorrow. Poppy said the stuff she put on my back will make me tired.” Hermione nodded in agreement, and Ron looked a bit put off.

Harry fell asleep not long after they entered the common room. He was slumped in a chair in the far side of the common room, oblivious to most in the room. Around midnight, the common room was empty and Harry was curling into himself, not close enough to fire to be warm.

Shivering, he rolled over, digging his face into the fabric of the chair. He almost felt like someone entered the common room but he was too tired to look around. The clock chimed midnight.

“Harry...Harry—wake up!” a voice called out and Harry started. Blurrily he opened his eyes and found Ron and Hermione standing in front of him.

“C’mon mate, you’ve overslept.” Ron said, backing up as Harry climbed out of his seat. Harry was startled to find himself wrapped in a blanket, tightly.

“D’you put this on me?” he asked Hermione and Ron who both shook their heads. “Wonder who then,” he mumbled, as he shook his head and straightened out his robes best he could.

“We’re going to work with your hand tonight, right?” Ron asked as they scrambled through the portrait hole. Harry nodded and his friend grinned stupidly. “We’re going to cream Slytherin!”

The Quidditch game was upon them in a matter of days, and the Gryffindor team was on edge. It was still snowing outside, lightly, and Harry’s hand kept letting the snitch get through. He couldn’t keep a tight enough grip on it, because every time he tried to close it, a searing pain soared through it.

Yet, Harry refused to drop out of the game. So, he found himself, soaring above the sky on Saturday, in the light snowflakes, watching as the two rival teams battled it out.

“Hey, Potter,” Malfoy called out, swooping to a stop beside him. “You think you’re so great.”

“Yes, I tend to think that when I’m up so high, above so many people.” Harry replied cheekily.

“You’re going to lose, you’re hand’s ruin. Heard you can’t keep hold of the snitch.” Malfoy jeered darkly.

“Really?” Harry asked, crushing his hand into a fist causing Malfoy’s eyes to narrow darkly. Obviously he thought Harry couldn’t do that. Growling, he flipped around, and flew off. Instantly Harry let go of his fist, wincing in pain.

The Slytherins were getting vicious as the game progressed. Ron was having a hard time, and Ginny and Katie, obviously the most important players to the team, were getting beaten. Yet, Gryffindor, more by Ron’s skill, was maintaining a tight lead.

“Harry, find the snitch and fast,” Ginny gasped as she flew by. Harry nodded and started to scan for the snitch harder then usual.

Malfoy and Harry were keeping an eye out on each other while they soared, close, but at a good distance from each other. Glancing to his side, Harry watched Ron make a spectacular save.

Smiling slightly, Harry spun around, snowflakes whipping his face, and saw a glint of gold. His eyes instantly flashed. He stared, hard, in the general direction where he saw the glint. Then, he spotted the snitch. Malfoy had also spotted it.

Now, it was just a dive of skill.

Harry instantly fell into a quick dive, the snitch glittering inches from the ground, on one of the clothed sides of the pitch. The dive was going to be tricky, so tricky indeed that Harry might not be able pull out of it in time.

A buldger flung out of nowhere, causing Harry to spiral out of his dive to avoid being knocked completely out the dive. Malfoy jeered loudly, as he pulled ahead.

“It won’t work,” Harry mumbled to himself. Then, did something he never thought he’d do, he pulled out of his dive, and instead flew in a horizontal line, much to the annoyance of the fans. “This is going to be hard.”

First sign of madness, Mr. Potter, talking to yourself. Snape’s voice suddenly flittered through him. He smiled sheepishly, somehow Snape’s voice made him want to pull this off more then before. Gritting his teeth, he flipped into a perfect vertical angle, going in a perfect dive down straight down.

The crowd roared, anyone could tell what Harry was doing was crazy. He wouldn’t be able to pull out of the dive, but that wasn’t what Harry was going for. Malfoy was coming at an angle, and suddenly Harry, at amazing speed, dropped before him.

Then, Harry did something even more insane. Using his back legs, he kicked upward, and dropped down hard onto the back of the broom, bringing it to a sharp horizontal angle. Malfoy hollered a curse and veered out of the way, losing himself into the snow.

Harry, still dropping quickly, shoved his trick leg into the snow himself, spun around and found himself flipping sideways to grab the snitch as he shot by. He winced as his bad hand clutched the flapping ball hard.

Then, he slipped off his own broom, having lost all grip and crashed into the snow. There was a pause of awe from the crowd, and then applause and cheers of the likes Harry had never heard before erupted the crowd.

The whole Gryffindor team was upon him seconds, all shouting and hollering like mad. Ron and Ginny were the first to tackle him, then Katie Bell, who more or less crushed him.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron shouted.

“You should’ve seen Malfoy, he was bloody furious!” Ginny laughed as everyone more or less dragged Harry off the field.

“How’d you do that?” Katie demanded once the team was in the locker room, lounging around and laughing with excitement.

“I have no bloody idea; I just knew I wouldn’t’ve been able to get it with the way I was going.” Harry was laughing.

“C’mon, let’s get to common room before they start partying without us.” Ron declared, more or less dragging Harry out of the locker room.

And he wasn’t wrong. By time they had gotten into the common room the party had already begun and it was in full swing.

How long they party, no one was sure, but hardly any student made it back to their bed. Most just fell asleep lounging around the common room. Even Hermione. All the Quidditch players were decked out in banners, trick ones made by Fred and George Weasley, and quite obviously Harry, Ron, Katie and Ginny were the heroes of the night. Ron and Harry more so.

All in all, it was one brilliant night.