Year 4-13: Sensing the Unseen

"Again, Potter!" roared Professor Moody, as Harry gingerly picked himself up off the floor once more. "Your enemies won't be so merciful every time you get knocked to the ground!"

Harry gritted his teeth and dropped back into a dueling stance, despite his body screaming at him to lie back down. He'd spent nearly every afternoon in the DADA classroom dueling with Moody, ever since he returned from Little Hangleton and shared what he'd overheard there. He left out the part about Apparating to the village illegally, of course, and framed it as another vision. Regardless, Moody had insisted on more intense training to prepare him for what was out there.

"Is that really the best you've got?" Moody demanded as he deflected yet another flurry of spells sent his way. "Any Death Eater worth their salt would wipe the floor with you, boy!"

Harry somehow doubted that, but Moody's words got under his skin regardless. He redoubled his efforts, wand slashing through the air in a desperate attempt to break through the ex-Auror's defenses. He'd quickly realized why Moody was so feared among Death Eaters during the first war: the man was ruthless, powerful and unbelievably quick despite his advanced age. He had to be, in order to call himself one of the few wizards who had faced off against the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale.

"Stop!" Moody barked, as yet another spell chain from Harry's wand splashed harmlessly against the man's Shield Charm. "Why are you using such weak spells in combat, Potter? There's a time and place for Disarming Charms, but a life-and-death fight is not one of them."

"I'm trying to diversify, like you taught me," Harry panted, resting his palms on his quivering knees – he was thoroughly exhausted from the workout. "So I'm not predictable."

"Your spell vocabulary needs updating, then," Moody said gruffly. "You can't be throwing such weak charms around in the heat of battle. You want spells that can do real damage: Blasting Curses, Bone-Breakers, Cutting Curses and the like."

"It didn't seem appropriate in a school setting," Harry mumbled, knowing at once that this was not the right thing to say.

"Do I look like I give a rat's ass about Ministry regulations?" Moody demanded. "You've got a bloody Dark Lord after you, lad! Sanguis vapori!"

Harry's eyes widened as Moody fired the Blood-Boiling Curse directly at his chest, and he flattened himself to the ground to avoid the nasty purple jet of light. "See?" said Moody. "No more difficult to block than a Disarming Charm, but the psychological impact affected your reaction."

"Because it could have killed me!" Harry protested.

"I would have used the counter-curse before that happened," Moody muttered, rolling his eyes. "But my point remains: you can't be afraid of using or facing such dangerous magic, because in a real battle, every advantage counts."

"Great," Harry groaned, struggling back to his feet. "Can we take a break now?"

"Do you think the Dark Lord would give you the same courtesy?" Moody demanded. "Again! Stupefy!"

Half an hour later, Harry limped out of the classroom, sore from head to toe, feeling like he'd been hit by a train and then run over multiple times for good measure. He was frustrated: not only had the Aurors failed to find anybody at Riddle Manor thanks to his anonymous tip, but Harry was more convinced than ever that he was not prepared for a real fight. He knew that Moody meant well, and that such draconian training methods would serve him well in real combat, but right now he wanted nothing more than to hex the man senseless for it. After a nice, long bath and full night's rest, of course.

These training sessions also cut into the precious free time Harry had to spend with his new girlfriend. Between his training and Katie's upcoming O.W.L.'s, they barely had time to see each other outside of Quidditch practices. They made time for meals together and the occasional study session in the library, but rarely got to sneak off and truly enjoy their time together like they both wished they could. Such was the harsh reality of the double-life Harry was forced to live…

Harry still hoped to flush out the impostor within the castle before the Third Task arrived in June, and had replayed the conversation he overheard in Little Hangleton over and over in his mind. One line in particular from the mysterious new follower of the Dark Lord stuck out to him as a potential clue.

So on a frosty Saturday afternoon in early March, Harry made his way down the hill to pay Hagrid a visit at his hut. There was still snow on the grounds, and Harry would have liked nothing more than to stay inside and bundle up by the fire. But duty compelled him onward, unwilling to leave any stone unturned.

To Harry's surprise, Hagrid was not alone. Damian Dursley was also present as he approached the hut, and he appeared to be in the middle of a heated debate with the half-giant. "...Told ya they ain't got no conscience about it!" Hagrid was saying.

"That's rubbish!" Damian protested. "No creature would willingly choose to enslave themselves, or kid themselves that they enjoy it!"

"House-elves are just differen' like that!" said Hagrid. "They don' like havin' to provide fer themselves or take vacations and whatnot. It benefits them as much as us."

"No it doesn't!" Damian insisted. "We've just tricked them into believing that!"

"Is now a bad time?" Harry said tentatively to announce himself.

"Oh, hey there, Harry!" Hagrid greeted him. "Yer cousin an' I were just discussing the 'plight of the house-elf', as he puts it."

"They deserve rights like any other intelligent being!" said Damian.

"They do have rights, Dursley, that's what I been telling yeh," said Hagrid. "But more than that is gonna have to wait. What yer describin' will take years to change."

"Well, maybe it shouldn't have to!" Damian bellowed frustratedly, kicking a nearby fence post in frustration. He grabbed a shovel leaning up against the hut and stalked off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, still silently fuming.

"He's got passion, tha's for sure," Hagrid chuckled as he watched the second-year go. "He'll be alright. Anyhow, why don't yeh come inside fer some hot tea, Harry?"

Harry gratefully accepted the offer, following Hagrid into his much-warmer hut and sitting at the table. Fang the boar hound jumped up to greet him, and Harry carefully extricated himself from the gentle beast's fierce licks and paws to the face. Hagrid poured Harry a cup of steaming liquid before sitting opposite him, his chair creaking ominously under his weight but somehow holding.

"How've yeh been farin'?" Hagrid asked Harry. "With the Tournament goin' on and all that."

"Not too bad," Harry shrugged, taking a tentative sip of his scalding liquid. "Just one task to go, and I feel alright about my chances."

"How about yer classmates?" asked Hagrid. "They treatin' you alright? I heard wha' happened with Ron Weasley and his lot a few months back."

"It's no big deal, really," Harry shrugged. "They just got caught up in the heat of the moment. It'll all blow over soon, I'm sure."

"Tha's the spirit!" Hagrid beamed. "Don't you fret about bein' unpopular, now. I didn' have many friends myself growin' up at Hogwarts, but things worked out alright in the end. We can't all be Slug Club members, after all."

"Sorry?" Harry frowned, confused. "What's a 'Slug Club' member?"

"Oh, right, that was a bit before yer time," Hagrid chuckled. "Before Professor Snape showed up, ol' Professor Slughorn taught Potions 'round here. He had a 'Slug Club' for students he thought showed potential. Very exclusive, very elite."

"I take it you didn't get invited?" Harry surmised from Hagrid's bitter tone.

"Nah, he only invited pure-bloods, mostly," Hagrid sighed. "Students whose folks were famous in the wizarding world. Or just the super smart ones, like Riddle."

"Tom Riddle?" Harry asked with a jolt.

"That's the one," Hagrid said darkly. "He was ol' Sluggie's favorite. Always chattin' him up between classes, tryna win him over with his charm. Bunch o' rubbish...me n' Dumbledore knew he was up to no good, but none of the other teachers could see it."

"What happened to Professor Slughorn?" Harry asked.

"No clue," Hagrid shrugged. "Retired, I guess, 'bout a decade ago. Probably off rubbin' shoulders with the high and mighty somewheres."

Harry mulled this over in his mind. Tom Riddle had been close to this Slughorn fellow – perhaps even closer than the typical student-teacher relationship. Was this worth exploring further? Could Slughorn be located and approached about the topic, assuming he was still alive? He would definitely have to ask Saul about this at the next opportunity.

"Anyway, enough about all that," Hagrid said, shaking his head of the negative thoughts clearly swirling through his brain. "What did ya come to see me for?"

"Oh, right," said Harry, remembering the reason he'd come down here to begin with. "I had a question for you. About the First Task."

"Oh?" said Hagrid. "Mighty fine job yeh did there. Glad ter see yeh make it through alright...I knew yeh couldn't 'ave put yer own name in after seeing that dragon."

"Thanks," Harry chuckled. "Neville did great as well. You told him about the dragons, didn't you?"

Hagrid stiffened a bit at this. "Er...strictly speakin', I shouldn' admit to such a thing…" he said evasively.

"I'm glad you did," Harry said quickly. "It probably saved his life...good thinking on your part."

Hagrid relaxed visibly at this. "Least I could do," he shrugged. "Though in truth, it weren't entirely my idea."

"Someone else suggested you tell him?" Harry asked casually, trying to hide his excitement. "Who was it?"

"Oh, that woulda been…" Hagrid sighed heavily. Then, he paused, frowning a little. "Tell yeh the truth, I don' exactly remember."

"You don't?" said Harry, surprised. "Where did this happen?"

"It was right here, in me hut," said Hagrid, scratching his beard. "Someone came knockin' after dark...we shared a bottle o' Firewhiskey and talked about the First Task...blimey, who was it?"

"A staff member?" Harry urged, realizing how close he might be to catching the culprit. "Or a student? Male or female?"

"Male, musta been," Hagrid said, still looking puzzled. He stared blankly into the distance for a moment before shaking his head in defeat. "Eh, musta had a few too many that night. But whoever it was, I owe 'em mightily, as does Neville."

"No kidding," Harry said, forcing a hollow chuckle, though internally he couldn't believe his bad luck. This was the smoking gun that could have pointed to the impostor! Why oh why had Hagrid drank too much that night? Unless the impostor planned it that way to cover their tracks, he realized. Got him so drunk he wouldn't remember the conversation.

"I offered ter help with the egg clue, but Neville wouldn' hear it," Hagrid chuckled. "Kept goin' on about 'honor' and wanting ter prove himself without any help."

"Well, luckily he did," said Harry, declining to mention his ploy with the Weasley twins to slip that info to the boy. "He handled himself well in that lake."

"Yeah, he told me all about it last week," Hagrid smiled knowingly. "Gentle creatures, those Merfolk, mighty misunderstood. Dumbledore introduced me to their chief once, but I couldn' understand a word 'e was sayin'. Shoulda realized that's what that infernal screamin' was all about!"

"Anyway, I'd best get back to the castle," said Harry, looking up to the darkening skies. "Thanks, Hagrid."

"Anytime," Hagrid winked. "Maybe yeh'd best go check on that cousin o' yours, out in the thestral pasture. He might appreciate the help in clearin' out the snow."

"Will do."

Can Damian even see thestrals? Harry wondered as he made his way down the dirt path into the Forbidden Forest. That question was answered rather quickly when he spotted his cousin in the middle of a clearing, shoveling snow in a straight line, and bumping directly into a thestral, falling flat on his backside with a groan.

"This bloody pasture is haunted!" he huffed.

"Not exactly," Harry chuckled, hopping the fence to join him. "Haven't dealt with thestrals before?"

"What're they, some kinda ghosts?"

"More like winged horses. They're invisible to humans unless you've seen death."

Damian frowned at this. "That sounds made up," he decided.

"Come and see for yourself, then," Harry shrugged. He walked over to the corner of the enclosure, where a group of thestrals were huddled under a thicket of trees, shivering under a thick blanket of snow. He drew his wand and cast Drying Charms on them, melting the snow on their backs and giving them a warm blast of hot air. The thestrals eagerly approached him, rearing their heads with approval.

"What's makin' that noise?" Damian demanded, walking towards him. But he walked straight into the path of another thestral, falling over face-first into the snow. Damian sprang back to his feet, startled; he cautiously inched forward, arms outstretched, until he made contact with the thestral's bony side.

"The hell kind of sorcery is this?" Damian demanded suspiciously.

"Like I said, you have to have seen someone die," Harry explained patiently. "You're lucky if you can't see them yet."

"How come you can see them?"

"I watched my Defense professor get murdered in my first year," Harry explained. "Been able to see them ever since."

Damian stared in shock at this revelation; clearly he hadn't know that about Harry. But he recovered quickly, working his way up the side of the thestral until he located the head, stroking its mane gently.

"I hope they're friendly," Damian said warily.

"Sure they are," said Harry. "Most docile beasts around. Why don't you give him an apple?"

Harry plucked the fruit from a nearby tree and tossed it to Damian. The boy cautiously held it up over his head, and to his astonishment, the thestral began to take sloppy bites out of it, which from his view must have been more like watching the apple vanish bit by bit into thin air.

"Cool," Damian breathed in awe. He had a twinkle of excitement in his eye that Harry hadn't seen before in his younger cousin.

Harry set to work clearing the heavy snow banks from the pasture. Hot flames spread out from his wand, licking the frozen earth and melting the offending white powder into puddles. He taught Damian the spell so that he could help, with strict instruction to never use it while pointing his wand at other people. The devious grin on Damian's face as he cleared swaths of snow away with the flames was slightly concerning, and Harry hoped he hadn't just given his cousin a new tool to terrorize his classmates with.

Once this task was completed, the sun was beginning to set, and Harry accompanied Damian back up to the castle. For once the boy did not run away from him or make snide remarks, merely keeping pace with him. Harry realized this might be a good opportunity to bond with his cousin, something he'd long been meaning to do.

"How was your Christmas break?" he asked. "Have a nice time with your family?"

"It was alright," Damian shrugged. "Dudley was on his high horse about placing third in his wrestling tournament, and Dad didn't give a toss about what I'd been up to."

"Good for Dudley," said Harry, choosing to skate past the thorny second half of that sentence. "D'you two get along well?"

Damian mulled this over for a minute before answering. "We used to," he said. "Lately he takes after my dad more. Ever since my Hogwarts letter came, and we had that row."

"You had a row with your dad?" asked Harry.

"The night before I left for school, first year," said Damian. "He didn't want me to come...said it was a freak school for freak people. Mum insisted I had to go, and eventually Dad said fine, whatever, and that I should just stay here if I wanted to go so bad."

"Blimey," said Harry. "I'm sorry."

"Funny thing is, I didn't even want to go in the first place!" Damian laughed hollowly. "I was happy to go to Smeltings with Dudley, but Mum wouldn't have it."

That seemed rather unlike Aunt Petunia to Harry. She was always eager to stamp out any hint of magic in her household...why would she suddenly be so supportive of her own son being magical? Had something happened in this timeline to cause such a personality shift? Or was there more to her than meets the eye?

"Maybe you could come visit sometime this summer," Harry suggested. "I think you'd enjoy Godric's Hollow."

"Yeah, maybe," Damian shrugged. "You have no idea how boring Little Whinging can be in the summer."

Oh trust me, I do, Harry thought bemusedly, though he did not say this aloud. The thought of spending another summer at Number Four Privet Drive sounded like cruel and unusual punishment.

"Anyway, good luck in the Quidditch match next weekend," said Damian as they arrived in the Entrance Hall and went their separate ways. "Even though I hope Diggory kicks your arse."

"Thanks a lot, cousin," Harry chuckled, playfully punching the pre-teen on the arm for his quip. Damian was as loyal as Hufflepuffs came, and there was no one he was more loyal to than Cedric Diggory.

Harry had spent many a practice mulling over his upcoming match-up with the older boy and how to possibly outfly him. He would once again be at a disadvantage in both size and speed, as his mother still insisted on keeping his Firebolt to remove her son's temptation to spend all his free time flying. Harry had grown considerably over the past year, but he was still a couple inches shy of Cedric's height and not quite as filled out in body mass yet. He would not fare well if their match involved a lot of close-quarter combat between the Seekers.

The only real chance he had was to simply spot the Snitch before Cedric did. Harry felt confident in his ability to juke, dodge and feint, but such skills would only take him so far. At the end of the day, it would came down to who saw the little golden ball first, and Harry was determined to come out on top. The winner would be going up against Krum in the final in May, a daunting but exciting prospect. Harry knew Cedric would also be itching to test his mettle with the best of the best and would not go easy on Harry.

Harry worked extra hard in practices, recognizing how important their next match would be. He even began waking up early to join Katie for her early morning workouts, which doubled as a way to stay fit and to spend more time with his girlfriend. One such morning saw them jog two miles around the pitch, which Katie considered light cardio but had Harry's side in stitches by the final laps. My stamina could really use some work, Harry thought miserably, knowing this would also aid him in his training with Moody.

After changing and showering separately, they headed back up to the castle hand in hand. Classes were already in session, but both of them had a free period, giving them a bit more time to themselves. "Want to head to the library?" Harry suggested as they crossed through the empty halls. "Or...I dunno...somewhere quieter?"

Katie raised a mirthful eyebrow at him, but sighed. "Afraid I have a lot of work to do," she grumbled. "I still have to finish an essay for Moody before lunch, and I'm afraid Flitwick has set a pop quiz for this afternoon I haven't studied for."

"I can help with that," Harry offered as they headed for the library.

"You think you can help with O.W.L. level material?" Katie asked. "It's pretty advanced stuff."

"I like to read ahead," Harry shrugged. In truth, he'd already completed the O.W.L. material in his last timeline, and was pretty sure he'd aced his exams in both Charms and Defense.

"Bloody Ravenclaws," Katie muttered, shaking her head. "If I hadn't taken pity on you and agreed to a date, you'd probably be reading on to N.E.W.T. level by now."

"Who says I'm not?" Harry grinned cheekily. "I'm an over-achiever, Miss Bell. I can snare pretty witches with one hand and read textbooks with the oth—"

Then, without thinking, without being consciously aware of what he was doing, Harry plunged his hand into his robes and spun around, wand in hand. His Shield Charm was erected in the nick of time, blocking the incoming Cutting Curse with a resounding gong.

Harry's wand flashed through the air in a blur, firing three follow-up spells in return. His opponents were unable to block them, either too surprised by his speed or not expecting him to return fire in the first place.

Three people fell to the floor; one, Markus Flint, was out cold from a Stunner. The other two were not so lucky; one Durmstrang boy was scrabbling at his face from Harry's Bat-Bogey Hex, while Marko Pavlovic screamed in agony, clutching his shattered leg thanks to the Bone-Breaker Curse.

Katie gasped in fear at the gruesome sight. "H-how did you know they were there?" she asked timidly. "That spell came out of nowhere!"

"Dunno," Harry muttered, keeping himself between Katie and the assailants. But they looked to be out of the fight completely, each consumed with the consequences of Harry's retaliation.

Several doors banged open as students came rushing to hear what had caused all the commotion. Murmurs broke out immediately as the large crowd came upon the three incapacitated seventh-years, with Harry standing over them, wand drawn.

"Move aside, move aside!" barked Professor McGonagall as she swept into the corridor, Professor Flitwick hot on her heels. She took one look from the three downed boys to Harry and Katie before demanding, "Explain yourself, Potter!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Katie jumped in on his behalf. "It was self-defense, Professor!" Katie insisted. "We were just walking, and one of them fired a Cutting Curse at Harry's back! He Shielded to protect both of us, then returned fire."

McGonagall knelt down to examine the damage to Marko's leg, while Flitwick performed the counter-curse for the other Durmstrang boy's affliction. "The bone is shattered," she remarked. "Potter, did you use a Bone-Breaker Curse? That was very reckless!"

"I aimed at the legs," Harry muttered. "And I wasn't really thinking – I thought it was life or death, Professor." Indeed, his Little Hangleton excursion and his recent fights with Moody had instilled fresh paranoia into him, and his first instinct when attacked was to think the impostor had come to finish him off at last.

"Be that as it may," McGonagall huffed, "that is a completely unacceptable spell to be throwing around at Hogwarts. Come with me, Potter."

"I'm coming with him, Professor," Katie said adamantly, stepping beside Harry with a defiant look on her face.

"Oh, very well, Miss Bell," said McGonagall. "Filius, can you assist Mr. Pavlovic to the Hospital Wing?"

"Certainly, Minerva," said Flitwick, conjuring a stretcher and levitating it underneath the still-moaning Marko. He then turned to the other two boys. "I suggest you two return to your quarters until called upon by your Headmasters." Flint and the other Durmstrang boy, both now free of their afflictions, looked at each other and shrugged before slinking off down the hall.

Harry followed McGonagall in the opposite direction, already irritated at what was to come. He was certain to get chewed out for using magic that was frowned upon as "dark". But so what? Madam Pomfrey would be able to mend Marko's leg in minutes, and his life was never in danger. Meanwhile, the Cutting Curse, while not considered "dark", could have caused lasting damage to him or Katie, severing a limb or puncturing a key organ. If anything, Harry wished he'd responded with even greater force!

He was rescued from his spiral of negative thoughts by Katie, who gently slipped her hand into his and sidled up next to him. "That was really brave what you did," she whispered in his ear, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. At once Harry was at peace with his decision – if Katie stood behind it, he would too, no matter the consequences.

McGonagall led the way into the Staff Room, where a handful of teachers were milling about, drinking tea and conversing lightly. "Albus, we have a problem," McGonagall announced. Dumbledore, who was conversing with Professor Snape, stood to greet them.

"What is the matter, Minerva?" he asked.

"It wasn't Harry's fault, Headmaster!" Katie blurted out. "Someone tried to hex him from behind. He was just defending himself."

"With a Bone-Breaker Curse!" McGonagall retorted. "Marko Pavlovic's right leg was destroyed when I arrived!"

"Vot?" demanded Karkaroff, jumping to his feet from the corner of the room and stomping over. "He attacked Pavlovic again?!"

"In self-defense, again," Harry retorted, meeting Karkaroff's glare with one of his own. Dumbledore stepped neatly between them to defuse the tension.

"Peace, Igor," Dumbledore said diplomatically. "We will need to hear from all parties before rushing to judgment."

"That is vot you said last time!" Karkaroff roared, pointing an angry finger at Harry. "And the boy walked free!"

"He was given detention, as was the boy who instigated the fight," Dumbledore pointed out. "Mr. Potter has a right to defend himself from unprovoked attacks."

"No, no, I will not have this!" Karkaroff spluttered furiously. "It is the second time 'e has hurt my student, and I will not have it!"

"If I may," came a drawling voice; everyone turned to see Professor Snape approaching the group. "I have it on good authority that this attack has been brewing for weeks now. I've received several reports from my Slytherins that Flint and others from Durmstrang were plotting revenge against Potter."

"And you didn't think to report it?" McGonagall demanded, looking affronted by this news.

"I spoke with Mr. Flint and attempted to have him see reason," Snape shrugged. "As always, he proves to be thicker than a troll's club and didn't listen. I also presumed that certain parties would appreciate discretion in this matter." Snape gave a pointed look at Karkaroff after this remark, causing the man to grumble irritably.

"It seems to me that the situation is quite clear," said Dumbledore after a moment's silence. "Mr. Potter's use of force was clearly in self-defense, even if his methods were, shall we say, distasteful. Though come to think of it, Igor, isn't the Bone-Breaker Curse regularly taught to your own students in their Defense courses?"

"My students know better than to use it in the halls!" Karkaroff sputtered indignantly.

"But not to throw Cutting Curses at the backs of defenseless students," Snape muttered, drawing another murderous look from Karkaroff.

"Enough!" Dumbledore groaned, signaling for Snape to back off. "Both parties will be appropriately dealt with for their actions. Harry, please return to your common room."

"He vill not be punished?" Karkaroff demanded. "For breaking the leg of my student?"

"Your student should count himself lucky his curse did not connect with Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said sternly. "It could have resulted in charges for premeditated attempted murder. It is grounds enough for me to remove him from the premises as a danger to my students, wouldn't you say, Igor?"

Again, Karkaroff's face purpled with rage, but he knew he was not winning this argument. With a final glare at Harry (which was returned in kind), Karkaroff swept from the room, undoubtedly to check on his student in the Hospital Wing.

"Let's go, Harry," Katie whispered, gently guiding Harry towards the door. With a final look at the gathered staff, Harry followed her, amazed that he wasn't in trouble.

"I'm surprised Professor Snape stood up for you back there," Katie remarked as they traversed the empty halls. "I thought he hated you."

"He's not all bad," Harry shrugged. "He may be a bastard, but he usually does the right thing in the end." He had to assumed that Snape was looking out for him on his mother's behalf. Surely he recognized the true danger of the situation, given that his Dark Mark must be growing stronger by the day. Karkaroff knew it too, but was too stupid to realize that the true enemy lay outside these walls, and he would be just as screwed if the Dark Lord were to return.

Harry realized that he wasn't paying attention to where they were going, allowing Katie to guide him along. "Say, Katie? This isn't the way to Ravenclaw Tower," he remarked.

"I know," Katie grinned, roughly pulling him to the side and into a hidden alcove. "I just wanted to repay the favor for protecting me." And she pulled him close for another deep, passionate kiss, which Harry eagerly reciprocated.

Worth it, Harry thought as he enjoyed the spoils of having a girlfriend once more.

Snape's benevolence wasn't the only oddity that weighed on Harry's mind in the coming days. How had he been able to sense and intercept the Cutting Curse before it hit him? The spell was silently cast and completely out of his vision – by all accounts, he should have been bleeding out on the floor before he even realized what had hit him.

But that wasn't even the first time it had happened this school year. He'd sensed Ron Weasley's hex after Care of Magical Creatures class as well, blocking it before the poor kid had even finished the incantation. He hadn't thought much of it in the heat of the moment, but that didn't seem typical. Could most wizards sense magic they couldn't see, or anticipate it coming?

It was another question for Saul Croaker the next time he saw the man. It was too dangerous to write to him regularly, given that the Ministry was still watching him like a hawk. The occasional coded message was not sufficient to pass information back and forth at the frequency Harry needed. Saul's last missive had come the week before, responding to Harry's news from Little Hangleton, suggesting that they may be able to meet over Spring Break at the end of March to discuss things further.

Harry thought back to the previous August, when he'd completed the Ritual of Ontogenesis in Saul's office. What had he said about potential side-effects? "You may find yourself more aware of your magical surroundings than before." Did that explain his newfound reflexes? Was he able to detect magic in the air more acutely? It was certainly a useful ability to have, giving him a sort of sixth sense for danger. It had saved him multiple times this year already.

But such questions would have to wait. The week of the Quidditch match arrived, and tensions were unusually high for an unofficial match. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had traditionally gotten along quite well, but seemed to be mortal enemies now, as nasty glares and scuffles in the hall intensified in the lead-up to the game. The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were largely siding with the team of mostly Ravenclaws, the former to support Cedric and the latter to spite Harry.

"Let them chirp," Angelina muttered on the morning of the game as students jeered at their approach over breakfast. "We'll let our play do the talking." Harry opted to join his new teammates at the Gryffindor table, feeling the hostile eyes of his House mates upon him from the moment he walked into the Hall. Hope they'll be in a forgiving mood when I kick their asses, Harry thought defiantly.

An hour later, the team was suited up and seated in the locker room as Angelina Johnson went over their final game plan. "Davies is a good player, but we should have the advantage over the other Chasers," she said, looking to Katie and Alicia. "They aren't as coordinated as we are, and we should be able to handle our own without much assistance." The other two girls nodded their agreement with this.

"That leaves Diggory as their most dangerous player," Angelina continued. "No offense, Potter, but without your Firebolt, it's dangerous to leave you unsupervised with him. So Fred, George, I want you to focus most of your attention on him."

"Roger that," Fred nodded, fist-bumping his twin and giving Harry a look of reassurance. Harry returned it, still lamenting that his trusty broom languished back in Godric's Hollow but feeling determined to make the most with what he had.

"Other than that, just remember what we practiced and avoid major mistakes," said Angelina. "Let's go kick some Ravenclaw ass!"

The team cheered, though a couple also threw apologetic looks to Harry for the quip. He couldn't care less – his own House had turned on him during the Tournament, and now they would reap their due rewards. They'll think twice before disrespecting a Potter, Harry thought – today, he would be a proud Gryffindor through and through.

Soon Madam Hooch summoned them onto the pitch, and they took off into the chilly air. The snow had finally melted, but conditions were still frigid, and Harry cast a Warming Charm on himself that he hoped would hold for the duration of the match. The Gryffindors received a raucous welcome, with cheers and boos raining down upon them. Harry spotted his family in the stands, cheering and waving, including his sister – for once she would not have to root against him in a match. Harry intended to make the most of it.

The teams faced off at center field to begin the game. "Hey, Potter!" Roger Davies taunted. "Enjoy the final Quidditch game of your Hogwarts career!" Harry ignored him, just grateful that Roger would be graduating this year and his unpleasantness would be gone from the team. He tuned out the crowd and the hostile team across from him, steeling himself for action as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and tossed the Quaffle into the air.

"And the game is underway!" shouted Lee Jordan over the roaring crowd. "It's Alicia Spinnet with the Quaffle, dodging past Chang, passing off to Johnson…"

Harry did his best to keep one eye on the action below while also keeping tabs on Cedric, hovering nearby. The sixth-year may be friendly and harmless off the pitch, but on a broom he was terrifying: a predator lying in wait, poised to strike at any moment. Harry knew he could not let him out of his sight for even a moment, lest he spot the Snitch and immediately put distance between himself and Harry to catch it.

"KATIE BELL SCORES!" Lee Jordan exclaimed excitedly, wearing his Gryffindor loyalty on his sleeve. "That's 10-nil to the red team."

Harry spotted Roger Davies chewing out his fellow Chasers after the play, including a disgruntled Cho Chang. He felt a small amount of satisfaction from watching his old teammates bicker and argue over who was to blame.

But he couldn't relish in the moment for long. The most dangerous player on the pitch wasn't involved in the action below, still staying level with Harry, eyes peeled for any sign of the Snitch. Harry kept his focus on Cedric, daring him to make a mistake, to avert his attention for just a moment too long…

Harry instinctively ducked as a Bludger came whizzing past his right ear from behind, hurtling harmlessly away. "Potter's got eyes in the back of his head!" Lee Jordan said in amazement. "That Bludger should have knocked him into next April!"

Harry saw the offending Ravenclaw Beater fly by, shaking his head at the failed ploy. It was the second time that month that Harry had sensed an incoming threat he couldn't see. Was Saul's theory correct after all? Were his senses more attuned to latent magic in the air thanks to the Ritual of Ontogenesis?

But he didn't have time to ponder this before he saw Cedric enter a sharp dive towards the ground. Harry swore and dove after him, knowing it was futile to try and catch the larger and faster boy. But his senses told him something was awry – Cedric didn't seem to be zeroing in on a single target, just racing towards the grass far below. Was this a feint of some kind?

A tinkle of gold caught Harry's attention in his peripherals, and he peeled off to the left after it. Cedric was too preoccupied with his elaborate feint to notice, pulling out of his dive just in time to see Harry pinning the Snitch against the far goalposts and snatching it out of the air.

"Harry Potter has caught the first Snitch of the match!" Lee Jordan shouted over the cacophony of cheers and groans from the mixed crowd. "Nice feint attempt by Diggory there, but Potter somehow read him like a book and made him look the fool!"

Cedric looked unhappy with himself as the two teams aligned at center field to begin the second period. Harry was relieved that he would not be getting swept 0-3 today, but knew he could not rest on his laurels. He would have to catch at least one more Snitch in order to ensure his team's victory today.

And that became doubly apparent as Chaser play resumed below. As always, Roger Davies was doubling down on dominating the goalposts, directing his Beaters to focus solely on Angelina, Alicia and Katie. Harry was left well alone, but with Fred and George playing a more balanced game and continuing to harass Cedric, the opponents managed to rack up several goals and nearly erase the 50-point lead Harry had given them.

Harry knew he would have to end this match as quickly as possible. If things dragged on like this, he might need to catch all THREE Snitches, or worse, watch the score get out of hand to where the Snitches no longer mattered in the score. Davies may be a git, but he was a talented Chaser, and his unbalanced offensive approach was currently paying dividends.

Just focus on Cedric, Harry thought to himself. The older boy was playing more passively now, unwilling to commit to any feints or trickery lest Harry gain the upper hand again. Harry kept his eyes peeled for another speck of gold, praying that he would have an easy path to victory, that he wouldn't have to tussle with the stronger Hufflepuff at all…

But it was not to be. Harry spotted the second Snitch soon after, but to his dismay, Cedric was between him and his goal. Harry gritted his teeth and rocketed forward, knowing that Cedric would have plenty of time to react. Indeed, he barely got past Cedric when the larger boy realized what was happening and gave chase.

Soon Harry found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Cedric, each jostling and bumping each other in an attempt to gain dominance. The Snitch was straight ahead of them – it would simply be a matter of strength to determine who could muscle their way to the finish. Harry tried his hardest, pushing with all his might against Cedric's sturdy frame in the hopes of knocking him off-course. But Cedric's size and speed won the day, his broom keeping a handle's-length ahead for much of the way and effectively boxing Harry out en route to catching the second Snitch.

"Diggory catches Snitch number two!" said Lee Jordan to a much more raucous crowd reaction. "The blue team takes the lead, 120 to 80!"

Harry could see his teammates below, looking exhausted from the grueling fight. The Ravenclaw Beaters were relentless, ensuring that the Chasers (nor Volkov, their Keeper) got a moment's respite from the Bludger onslaught. Harry signaled to Madam Hooch for a timeout, and beckoned his team down to the pitch for a quick meeting.

"We need to switch things up," Harry suggested. "You guys can't keep getting beat up like this."

"It's what we signed up for, Potter," Angelina huffed. "Don't worry about us."

"Diggory's their best player," Fred added. "We need to keep him in check to have a chance."

"Diggory won't matter if the Chasers push the lead to sixty or more," Harry pointed out. "Let me handle Diggory. Fred, George, you focus on keeping these four alive."

"Are you sure, Harry?" George frowned.

"Positive," Harry nodded. "Keep us within fifty, and I'll handle the rest."

Angelina looked skeptical with this approach, but the twins gave her nods of reassurance. She eventually agreed, and the team took to the skies again to begin the third and final period of the match.

Roger Davies clearly had not updated his team's strategy during the timeout, as his Beaters continued to focus solely on the Chasers and Keeper. But Fred and George were right there to defend them, allowing Angelina, Alicia and Katie to mount a counter-offensive of their own. They managed to take back two quick goals before Davies wised up and ordered his team into a more defensive posture to stem the bleeding.

That was one problem taken care of. The other remained at large, however: Diggory, prowling the field, no longer molested by Bludgers and given free reign to hunt. Harry was anxious, knowing the risk he was taking by ordering Fred and George to leave them alone. If Cedric managed to spot the Snitch first, it would all be over, with only Harry standing between him and his prize.

Harry knew it was futile to try and keep pace with Cedric, so he focused all his attention on locating the Snitch. The Chaser play below had stalled, and all eyes in the crowd were on the two Seekers, on the hunt for the elusive third Snitch that would win the game. Time seemed to slow for Harry as he focused all his attention on the field around him...would he spot the tiny golden ball in time…?

And there it was. Hovering just below Volkov, at the southern end of the pitch. Harry's heart sank; once again, Cedric was between him and the Snitch, and if Harry went for it now, the older boy would once again have time to set up a blockade and muscle his way to the tiny ball first. Harry couldn't take that risk. But he also couldn't allow Cedric time to spot it himself, or it would be over anyway.

It was time to do something drastic. Something that would either make him look like a genius, or an utter moron.

Harry flattened himself against his broom and sped off towards the goalposts – in the opposite direction. His only hope was for Cedric to give chase, to commit to the wrong course of action. Even then it would take a combination of luck and skill to achieve what he was aiming for.

But part one of the plan seemed to have worked. "Potter looks to have spotted something!" Lee Jordan exclaimed. "He's racing for the goalposts, but Diggory's going to get there in time!"

Harry sensed Cedric coming up fast behind him. He'd deliberately flown at less than full speed, allowing the Hufflepuff ample time to catch up and prepare a defense. Harry waited until Cedric was a few feet away, hurtling in for a devastating shoulder check, before springing his trap.

Harry yanked hard on his broom and flipped over onto his back. Cedric, who was unprepared for the maneuver, shot underneath him, his momentum carrying him farther than expected from the missed contact. Before Cedric could recover, Harry was off, now hurtling as fast as his school broom could take him towards the Snitch.

"FRED! GEORGE!" Harry bellowed to the twins, who were hovering nearby. "KNOCK DIGGORY ON HIS ARSE, NOW!"

The twins looked at each other and nodded, peeling off from the Chasers to join the Seeker chase. Cedric had righted ship and was now shooting off after Harry, but his progress was slowed by a pair of well-placed Bludgers, forcing him to slow and dodge them.

Meanwhile, a play was developing right underneath Harry as he sped for glory. Roger Davies had the Quaffle, and was now taking advantage of the twins' absence to mount an attack of his own. He didn't seem to get the memo, directing his Beaters to clear a path for him to the goal, oblivious to the fact that Harry was flying uncontested towards the Snitch, just ten feet or so above him.

Davies heard the cheers of the crowd and seemed emboldened by them, refusing to pass the Quaffle as he carved a path through the defense. He ducked under Angelina's outstretched arm and roughly elbowed Katie in the face before rearing back for a shot. He fired at the right goalpost; Volkov made a valiant effort to save it, but a Bludger to the shoulder knocked him off-course and the Quaffle sailed through the hoop.

Davies did a fist-pump as the crowd went wild at the play. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was not the source of the commotion. Harry had swooped in unnoticed and snatched the Snitch from beneath the left hoop, ending the game on the spot and causing the crowd to go bonkers.

"I've never seen a feint like that in a live match before!" Lee Jordan shouted hoarsely. "Potter fooled Diggory with a full field-length feint to divert him away from the Snitch. Roger Davies scores for blue, but it's not enough as the red team wins, 160 to 140!"

Harry felt elated and relieved that his foolhardy plan had worked as he landed on the pitch, soon to be swarmed by his teammates. His first concern was not celebration, however. "You alright, Katie?" he asked his girlfriend.

"Never better!" Katie beamed. Her right eye was rapidly swelling from Davies' elbow and a trickle of blood ran down her temple, but it did not diminish her radiant beauty in Harry's eyes. She grabbed him around the neck and kissed him deeply, earning whoops of delight from their teammates.

"Hey, lovebirds, save some for the rest of us!" George quipped. He too embraced Harry excitedly, as did Fred and the other Chasers.

"Alright there, Volkov?" Harry asked the stoic Durmstrang Keeper.

"I 'ave had worse," Volkov shrugged. His right shoulder was bent at an odd angle, likely dislocated, but he remained in good spirits, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Roger and the rest of the blue team immediately headed to the locker room, clearly too bitter with the result to congratulate the other team. There was one exception, however. "Good game, Harry," said Cedric, approaching the group and offering a handshake. "You were the better flyer today."

"Just got lucky, that's all," Harry shrugged modestly. "You had the advantage the whole way through."

"And I squandered it," Cedric grinned knowingly. "Seriously, nice work. You deserve the chance to fight Krum."

"Thanks," Harry grinned. Then they were interrupted by a mob of students rushing the pitch to congratulate the winning team. Most of them were Gryffindors, but students of other Houses were also present, even Ravenclaw, as several of Harry's classmates approached to offer their well-wishes and compliments on his gutsy play.

Harry made his way back to the locker room hand-in-hand with Katie, flanked by his teammates, feeling overjoyed at the result. In the grand scheme of things, this impromptu Quidditch tournament meant absolutely nothing. But it felt good to have something fun to look forward to, something that wasn't life-or-death with razor-thin margins of error. He would get to test his strengths against Viktor Krum, the best Seeker on the planet, and that thought terrified and excited him in equal measure.

Now if only he could convince his mother to let him have his Firebolt back for the final match...

A/N: I originally wrote the scene with Damian for Year Three, but wound up cutting it at the last minute. I remained attached and held onto it, hoping to find a place for it later, and luckily I did! Gonna try to include more little slice-of-life interactions between Harry and the side characters to flesh out their relationships moving forward.

P. S. – I borrowed a bit of fanon magic from one of my other completed fics ('Evangeline's War') for the concept behind this chapter. If you enjoy my writing style, or philosophical musings on the nature of magic itself, you should check it out sometime – I'm quite proud of it!