Kiss

Supernatural/General

Summary: When a dementor tried to Kiss Harry Potter, it got more than it bargained for. And Harry did not walk away unaffected. Don't own Harry Potter.

AN: I've made slight changes to chapters 17 and 30.

About what I said about sticking close to cannon: it won't always be like that. There will definately be some differences.

Sorry about the long wait. The third task is coming up though, which should be interesting.

Chapter 37: Before the Third Task

'A toast,' declared Fred. He held up his mug. 'To the departed Mr Crouch, some people will miss him, and to Percy, for really impressing us. He was brave tonight.'

XXX xxx XXX

Harry watched Hedwig fly away with a letter to Sirius, half wishing he could go with her. The cave wasn't so far away. Outside the Owlery windows the grounds of Hogwarts were misty and quiet. Pale, early morning light filled a blue sky, and the odd owl flew in to perch after a night's hunting, carrying a mouse in its beak.

'Shh!' said Hermione, suddenly. She faced her ear to the door. Footsteps were climbing up the stairs to the Owlery, footsteps and two voices, arguing.

'I'm telling you,' said one, 'if you put that in writing, it's blackmail.'

'I don't care.' They sounded male, older students.

'We could get into serious trouble for that-'

'Well it's time to stop playing nice and start playing dirty, like him. We've tried, George.' George? Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at each other.

'I bet he won't want the Ministry knowing about this,' the other boy - it was Fred - continued. 'And you won't be complaining when we get everything back, and more.'

What were the twins talking about? Blackmail?

The Owlery door opened and Fred and George stopped talking the moment they saw the trio.

'What're you doing here?' Ron and Fred asked together.

'Sending a letter,' said Harry and George.

'What, at this time in the morning?' Hermione and Fred finished the twinspeak. They all grinned for a moment.

'Alright. We won't ask what if you won't,' Fred grinned. He held an envelope in his hand and, as Harry glanced at it, his freckled fingers shifted to cover the name.

'Seriously,' said Ron. 'Who're you blackmailing.'

'Seriously?' said Fred. His grin vanished and he exchanged a look with George beforing smiling back at Ron. 'We were joking Ron. Don't be daft.'

'Didn't sound like that.' The twins looked at each other again, holding a silent conversation.

'Sure. Listen, Ron, if you like your nose the way it is, although I can't understand why, you'd best keep it out of other people's business.'

'But it is my business if you two are blackmailing someone. George is right, you could get into big time trouble-'

'I was joking,' said George, taking the envelope and tying to the nearest school owl's leg. 'Careful, Ron,' he said over his shoulder. 'You're starting to sound our dear Percy. If you keep this up you might be made a prefect!'

'I will not!'

'Well then, stop telling people what to do.' George carried the barn owl over to a window and lifted his arm. The bird spread its brown feathers and lept out into the air. George turned around and followed his twin out of the door.

'See you later!'

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared after them for a moment, then at each other.

'Blackmail?' Harry said. 'You don't think they were serious about that?' Ron looked uncomfortable. Frown lines dented his nose-bridge.

'I dunno... Fred and George have been obsessed with money making lately. I really noticed it when - you know,'

'When we wern't talking.'

'Yeah.'

'But blackmail?' said Hermione.

'It's this jokeshop idea they've got,' Ron explained. 'I thought it was just to annoy Mum at first, but they're really serious about it, they really do want to start one. They keep talking about how it's time to think about their future now they've only got one year left at Hogwarts - Percy was the same, actually, and Dad can't help them, and they need gold to get it started.'

Now Hermione was looking uncomfortable.

'They wouldn't do anything against the law to get gold, would they?' she asked.

Ron looked sceptical.

'Wouldn't they? They sure don't mind breaking the rules here.'

'Yes, but this is the law! Not some silly school rule. They would get a lot more than detention for blackmail! maybe you should- oh,'

'Tell Percy? Not bloody likely. If last night hadn't happened he'd go straight to Crouch with it! And Percy's in no shape to deal with trouble right now.' Percy, when they'd crept out of the Hospital Wing, had still been sleeping off his shock. Mr and Mrs Weasley would take him home with them when he woke.

The little party in the ward last night had gone on for an hour before Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George left. Harry and Cedric managed to fall asleep not long after, which surprised Harry. The next morning Ron and Hermione came to visit him early so they could go send off a letter to Sirius.

Their reply from him came the very next morning, along with the Daily Prophet. The letter told him not go out at night without a teacher, warned that the Third Task was the last chance for whoever put his name in the Goblet of Fire to hurt him, so they'd be desparate, said he should stay close to his friends, stay in Gryffindor Tower after hours and arm himself for the last task; stunning, disarming, a few hexes...

...Keep your head down as much as you can and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your word you won't go out of bounds. This is serious.

Padfoot.

Harry was indignant.

'Who's he to tell me that?' he said, folding the letter away in his robes. 'All the things he used to do at school...'

The next few days were busy with practising spells for the third task. Harry, Ron and Hermione spent all their free time looking for hexes in the library or practising them in unused classrooms. They left the Chamber alone because Snape was in there at odd times dissecting the basilisk, finishing off the lengthy job with the help of several Hogwarts house elves. He could let himself in, having learnt to say 'open', and the free time ment more magic practise. Stunning, slowing down, shielding...

Two aurors in red robes turned up at Hogwarts one morning to question everyone involved in the incident ending in Mr Crouch's death. (more?)

The weather had been very hot. It beckoned studying students to come outside, and filled classrooms with stuffy heat, except the dungeons.

'It's going to be boiling in Divination,' Ron groaned as he and Harry tramped up the staircase. 'Trelawney never puts out that fire!'

XXX xxx XXX

A soft breeze lifted the curtain slightly and gently ruffled Harry's hair. His poofy armchair was snug around him. The Divination room was sweat-inducing hot, dimly lit and full of perfumed fire that made heads spin. Harry thought it would perfect for napping in, if only it wasn't class time.

Professor Trelawney magicked the candles out so the only light came from the fireplace and from the beautiful glass dome with a model solar system within it. Nine tiny planets orbited a little fiery sun, and Trelawney was pointing out the interesting angle Mars was making with Neptune. And an insect was humming somewhere behind the curtain, not enough to bother Harry, though...

Harry's eyelids fluttered weakly in the darkness. His cupboard was full of shadow and perfume. Wait - what was that? Did something just move? Harry's eyes moved quickly in his head, searching the dim space. A few broken, rescued toys sat imobile on an inbuilt shelf. His pinned-up pictures were still.

There - in the bottom corner. A sudden movement.

There was something in the cupboard with him.

No. Impossible. There was never anything or anyone in the cupboard with Harry except insects. Well, Uncle Vernon visited one time when his Hogwarts letters came. But that was it. Harry was always alone in his cupboard. He had to be imagining things.

Tap tap tap.

Harry looked at the door. That was a brisk knock. Like Aunt Petunia's, but she knocked faster than that, like taptaptaptap.

Tap tap tap.

Should he answer that? He knocked back.

Tap tap tap.

There was a bright white light shining through the vent in the door.

TAP TAP TAP

'Who's there?' Harry asked. He got onto his knees and peered through the vent. He squinted at the light.

'Whoa!'

A face loomed right in front of him. It was hard to make out; metal strips obscured the front while light from behind threw its features into shadow.

But shading his eyes, Harry thought the face looked familiar. It was male and adult.

Harry didn't see the shadow in the corner gowing until it had, quite rapidly, at the speed of thought, engulfed the entire cupboard and swallowed him.

And then he was in a dark room with boarded windows. There was high-backed armchair - it back to him, and a heath-rug on the floor, where a short, partially bald man with a long-twitchy nose and teary eyes lay sobbing. There was also a huge snake, longer than a full-grown man.

The sobbing man was begging for mercy, apologising for a mistake.

'You are very fortunate, Wormtail,' said the chair - no, someone in the chair. The voice was cold and high-pitched. 'Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead.'

'My lord,' Wormtail gasped, 'I'm s-so sorry! Please forgive me! I'll nev-never do it again!'

'Nagini, I will not be feeding Wormtail to you after all,' the cold voice in the armchair cut in. 'But never mind, you will eat well soon. There is still Harry Potter.'

The snake hissed, in anticipation or disappointment Harry couldn't tell.

'No, perhaps there is less meat on him, but his flesh is surely more tender than Wormtail's...'

'I could eat them both,' Nagini suggested.

Armchair Voice chuckled. It was a malevolent sound that made Wormtail whimper in fear.

'Ah, Wormtail. Perhaps one more reminder...'

'No! Please, my Lord! Please!'

A wand tip poked out from the depths of the armchair, pointed directly at Wormtail.

'Crucio.'

Wormtail screamed and his screaming filled Harry's ear's and his brain, and he was yelling too. His scar was searing with hot pain. Voldemort would hear him, notice him there.

'Harry! Harry! Wake up!'

Harry's eyes jerked open. He was in Divination- he'd fallen off his poofy chair. His hands were clutched over his forehead, so painful it made his eyes water. The other students were crowded fearfully around him, and Ron was kneeling beside him, had just been shaking his shoulders.

'Are you okay?' he demanded. His face was pale, eyebrows drawn in terror.

'Of course he isn't!' cried Professor Trelawney. 'What was that, Potter?' she asked excitedly. 'A vision? A premonition? What did you see?'

'Nothing,' Harry lied. 'It was nothing.' He couldn't stop shaking. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, imagining Voldemort hiding. He had sounded so close.

'But you were clearly experiencing something,' Professor Trelawney insisted. 'You were rolling on the floor, clutching your scar! I have experience here! I can help you understand it!'

'I don't need to understand anything,' Harry muttered, pushing himself up. 'I think I need to go to the Hospital Wing.'

'But if you leave now, you may lose the chance to see further-'

'The only thing I want to see is a cure for a headache.' Harry stood up. The class backed away from him, unnerved.

'Harry, you sure you're all right?' Ron asked.

'Yes. I'll see you later,' kay?'

XXX xxx XXX

Harry fingered his flute nervously. Voices drifted out from behind the great crimson curtain backdropping the makeshift stage.

'Josh Cauldwell and Michael Pritchard of Hufflepuff House, Steve Owen and James Hadley of Ravenclaw, in the barber shop quartet hit, Surprise me!' Clapping and cheering followed this anouncement.

'Oh great,' Ron muttered. 'As soon as they're done, it's our turn!' His long fingers clenched around his drum.

Four boys' voices sang from beyond the fabric shield.

'Doo, do do do doo~'

At least they sounded alright, Harry thought. Like they were meant to be up there.

'I can't believe we're doing this,' muttered Draco Malfoy.

'It's your fault,' Ron grumbled. 'If you had just kept your foul mouth shut-'

'Well you didn't need to jump on me like a savage!' Malfoy hissed.

'It wasn't me who jumped you! And if you hadn't started it by provoking-'

'Both of you shut up!' Harry snapped. 'This really isn't the time for it.' His eyes darted from them, to a terrified, white-faced Neville, who was clutching his triangle tightly, to the curtains.

'Today I want my haircut to be a surprise.'

'Do do do-'

'Just snip away while I close my eyes.'

'I really can't believe this,' he muttered to himself.

3 weeks earlier...

'... and they were talking about what happened the other night,' Harry said. 'We've all got alibis, but the invisible attacker is still unknown. No one could recognise his voice or anything.' He kicked a pebble into the lake.

Plop!

'Then Moody saw me through the door. Dumbledore told me to wait for him and they all left to examine where it happened.'

'He told you to wait for him?' There was a grin in Ron's voice.

'And help myself to earwig sweet.' Harry grinned back. 'Twitchy little things. I dropped the bowl when they starting biting me, and when I was picking them up, I bumped open this cabinet with a bowl inside.'

'Oh, Harry,' Hermione sighed.

It was the silvery white light shining from inside the black cabinet that caught his attention. He glanced over at Fawkes on his perch, then opened the door. Inside, there sat a shallow, stone basin, carved upon the outside with many runes and symbols he didn't recognise. On the inside, a silvery white substance that was the source of the light swirled. It was neither liquid or gas, moving constantly and in no set pattern; like water rippling under the wind, like clouds billowing together and moving apart again. Was it light in water form or wind made solid?

Nearly four years of knowing the wizarding world stopped Harry from touching the unknown substance with his bare hands - he prodded it with his wand instead.

The stuff swirled faster.

Harry leaned in closer. Silvery white became a transpharent window. And through the window there was a room. A rather large room lit by torches, not windows. Benches rising up in levels stood before the walls, occupied by many witches and wizards. In the middle of the room there was an empty chair. It gave Harry an ominous feeling - perhaps it was the chains protuding the chair, as though its occupents were usually tied to it?

Where could a room like this be, he wondered? There weren't that many adults at Hogwarts. They all seemed to be waiting for something, fingering their pointed hats and staring at the empty chair.

Since the room was square and basin was round, Harry couldn't see into the corners. He leaned even closer, and his nose touched the glassy, swirling mist.

And he was lurching forward, pitching face first into the basin, into a freezing cold whirlpool... then he was sitting on a bench, in the room in the basin.

'Hey - that's like Tom Riddle's dairy, isn't it?' Ron said, wide-eyed.

'Yeah. No one noticed me drop in. Not even Dumbledore, when he shook hands through me!'

'What happend then?' Hermione asked.

'A trial started.'

Harry couldn't feel the dementors' chill and misery aura, but watching the memory people shiver, he shuddered anyway. The two tall, ghastly creatures robed in black dragged a man between to the to chair, where the chains glowed and came to life, wrapping themselves around him.

It was Karkaroff; years younger - hair and goatie black, his robes thin and ragged. He was shaking.

'Mr Crouch was next me on the bench. He had made a deal with Karkaroff - I heard Moody telling Dumbledore - names for his freedom. Moody wasn't happy.'

'What names?' asked Ron. He stooped and picked up a pebble to skim over the lake.

Splish, splish, splish, plonk!

'The names of Death Eaters,' said Harry. He picked up a pebble and sent it after Ron's.

Splish, splish, plonk!

'Antonin Dolohov, Karkaroff said he saw him torture loads of muggles and people who were against Voldemort. Dolohov had already been caught.'

'Too bad for Karkaroff.'

'Then there was Evan Rosier. He'd been killed by the aurors who tried to capture him. Travers and Mulciber, who killed a family and imperised a lot of people.'

'Which family?' Hermione's voice was small with sadness.

'The McKinnons, I think. Hey, doesn't someone here have that name?' Hermione nodded.

'He didn't get all of them then,' said Ron hopefully. 'Who else?'

'Rookwood, from the Ministry. That surprised them. Then he said that Snape-'

'Snape? I'm not suprised!'

'How could Snape be a Death Eater, Ron? Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to teach if that were true.'

'Actually,' said Harry, 'Dumbledore said that Snape had been a Death eater, but he'd switched sides and become a spy for us.'

'And Dumbledore trusts him? Even though he was Death Eater?'

'He does. Wouldn't tell me why though. It's between them.'

The memory had changed then. A different trial. The witches and wizards on the benches were much more cheerful and chatty. Mr Crouch, however, looked very tired and gaunt.

The person on trial this time was Bagman, to Harry's shock.

'Bagman? Seriously?'

'Yeah, it was him. Apparently he was caught giving information to Death Eaters-' Ron scoffed -

'He said he hadn't known Rookwood was one, and they let him go. Crouch was furious, especially when they congratulated him on his quidditch match agaisnt Turkey.'

Ron laughed.

The memory changed again. Harry was still with Dumbledore and Crouch, but all the cheer was gone. The room was completely quiet, save for a woman sobbing into a handkerchief next to Crouch, who looked like shit. His face was grey and gaunt, and a vein twitched in his temple.

Four people were dragged into the room by six dementors and locked into chairs. A nervous looking man, a larger man with a blank expression, a woman with dark, curly hair and hooded eyes and a pale young man with straw hair and freckles.

Crouch stood up, his face hard with hatred, and spoke to the accused while the woamn beside him rocked in place.

'You have been brought here before us,' he began, 'the Council of Magical Law, to be judged for a crime so hiddeous-'

'Father-' the fair-haired boy gasped, 'Father, please-'

'That rarely have we heard the like of it in this court! We have heard the evidence agaisnt you. The four of you are accused of-'

'Torture. They tortured people for information about Voldemort when he disppeared.' Neville's parents. Tortured into insanity. Ron and Hermione winced.

'Everyone voted for a life sentence in Azkaban.'

'Good riddance!' Harry wasn't sure. They deserved punishment of course, but wishing a lifetime with dementors for company wasn't an easy thing for someone horribly aware of their power.

'Then Dumbledore - the real one - came back and pulled me told me the basin was a pensieve. You can put your memories in it to look at them.'

'Wow,' Hermione's face lit up. 'That's amazing.'

'You were swimming around in Dumbledore's memories?' said Ron. 'Wow. I bet if you'd stayed in longer you'd see some really weird stuff.'

'Those are private,' Hermione defended. 'Did Professor Dumbledore tell you anything else?'

'When I told him about my dream, he asked if my scar had hurt any other time, besides at summer. Sirius told him. Dumbledore said he'd suggested the mountain cave as a hiding place to him, and that he thinks my scar hurts when Voldemort-'

Ron and Hermione flinched -

'- is close to me or when he's really angry about something. And he wished me good luck.'

XXX xxx XXX

Not long after Harry's nightmarish vision in Divination, another article about him was published in the Daily Prophet. Having been up late practising spells together, resulting in a rushed breakfast, Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't have time to read the newspaper over food and wondered what had been written this time until Malfoy read the article aloud as they passed him on the way to Charms. (Harry suspected that Malfoy had itching to see his reaction and kept a copy on him for this purpose.)

Harry Potter Disturbed and Dangerous?

The article revealed that Harry had "stormed out of the class, claiming his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying."

It went on about his "regular fits and fainting episodes", how he spoke Parseltongue, "long considered to be a dark art - revealed by fourth year student Draco Malfoy - 'there were lots of attacks on muggleborns a couple of years ago. Potter was suspected, espcially after he set a snake on a boy at the dueling club.'"

How he was friends with wild, violent characters such as half-giant Hagrid and werewolf Lupin, that Harry's brain might have been affected by the attempted killing curse, according to experts at St Mungo's, or maybe he was just pretending for attention?

Oh, and Harry Potter had been spotted at St Mungo's severals times during the school year, for reasons unknown.

'When do you become a permantent patient, Potter? There's a ward specially for people driven mad by spells!' Malfoy pulled an ugly face at Harry; crossed eyes and wiggling tongue. Harry grit his teeth angrily and most of the students listening in the corridoor frowned, but very surprisingly, Neville came charging at Malfoy! Harry's mouth fell open in shock as the timid boy punched Malfoy in the jaw, making the other's head spin around.

'Don't talk about St Mungo's!' Neville bellowed.

Malfoy stared at him in shock, then reached for his wand. He got a leg-locker jinx on Neville before Ron and Harry rushed in, not sure whether to use wands or fists.

'Petrific-'

'Tarantellegra!' Quick-kicking legs kicked Ron in the shins and he hit Malfoy's arm, who then punched Harry's chest. Neville yanked Malfoy to the floor and wrestled with him. Then the combination of stiff legs and dancing legs tripped Ron and Harry over, and they were a tangled mess on the floor until-

'Impedimenta!'

XXX xxx XXX

'Even if you were provoked, Mr Longbottom, I cannot excuse brawling in the corridoors,' Professor Flitwick adomonished.

Neville's lip trembled, but he stayed quiet.

Five minutes after the Charms professor had broken up their fight, Harry, on, Neville and Malfoy sat in Flitwick's office being scolded. Purple bruises were already blossoming on their bodies. Hermione had been sent on to class with instructions to have everyone read from Chapter 18 until Professor Flitwick got back.

The Charms teacher's office was a surprising large room, filled with several low, full bookshelves, a table, chairs, and a wide desk.

'What to do with you?' Harry was sure Flitwick understood the provocation but didn't want to seem unfair about the fist fight, which Neville had started.

'Ah, perhaps, perhaps you boys need an outlet for your energy?' The little professor took a paper from a desk drawer and layed it out for the boys to see.

HOGWARTS PERFORMING ARTS COMPETITION

Singing, dancing, music, dramatic skits

Five house points to each participant, 10 points to each winner

'You're joking,' said Malfoy, Ron and Harry in unison.

Professor Flitwick smiled at them.

'I'm not joking boys. It's this or detention.'

Harry was about to say he'd rather have detention when Flitwick added,

'Detention with Mr Filch for a month and fifty points from each of your houses.'

I'd still rather have detention, Harry thought. And, well, I've lost fifty points before. Everyone hated me for it, but I can put up with that again if I have to. God knows I'm used to it.

'You don't have to do much. You could just perform a short piece of music and it's over with.'

Malfoy huffed dramatically.

'Fine. We'll do it.'

'Hey! Don't just decide that!' Ron said angrily.

'Well I care about my house, Weasley,' Malfoy snapped. 'And I can play music. Can you?'

'Um, I have a flute,' Harry said reluctantly. Damn. Now that he's brought up house pride I can't just say I'd rather we lose points.

'Splendid!' Flitwick clapped his hands together.

The next day the four of them met in an empty classroom to figure out how not to embarrass themselves in front of the entire school. They started by arguing until an older girl with a violin poked her head in and told them to shut up.

'Alright.' Malfoy took a deep breath. 'I can play the piano or a lyre,* Potter has a flute,' here he looked down his nose at the hand-carved wooden stick in Harry's hands, 'and I'm sure there must be something in the store cupboards that Weasley and Longbottom can learn to play in three weeks.' He winced.

The music storage rooms were nearby, full of more instraments then Harry could name and folders and boxes of booklets and sheet music.

'Blimey,' said Ron. 'I had no idea all this was here.'

'That's because you're an uncultured moron, Weasley,' Malfoy drawled.

'You-'

'Hey, remember what got us into this mess?'

Ron grumbled and went to the percussion section farthest away from Malfoy.

'I didn't know about this stuff either,' Harry said. 'I've never seen so many musical instraments in one place.'

'Music isn't a compulsary class anymore,' said Malfoy.

'How do you know that?'

'My parents told me.'

And I bet Hermione will tell us when, Harry thought.

'Music has always been an important part of wizarding culture,' Malfoy went on. 'But since it stopped being complusary at school, there are fewer musicians around today. Mother says it's a tragedy, but Father says it means only the best will be heard.'

'My gran once told me about a school for music and drama.' Harry was suprised to hear Neville talk. The other boy had disappeared behind a shelf of brass. 'My Great Aunt Claire went to school there.'

'Really?' Ron piped up. 'Why would you want to go somewhere other than Hogwarts? How did she learn magic there?'

'They teach magic too. I guess she must have really loved music.'

Bom! Bom! Bom! Bam! Bam! Bam!

'I have private lessons outside of school,' Malfoy boasted.

'You're allowed to leave school?'

Bah! Bah! Bah!

'Hogwarts students have lessons at school,' Neville said, this time from the percussion section. 'But they can leave for concerts and stuff.'

'You know a lot about this too,' Harry mused.

'Well, my family told me a lot about Hogwarts...'

Bom! Bom! Bom!

'I'm gonna take this then,' said Ron, picking up an old drum half the size of a barrel. Neville wound up choosing a triangle.

'I already know what I can't play,' he told them. And I don't want to try anything too complicated right now. Let's just get this over with.'

Then there was deciding on a song.

'That's too long!' Ron cried, rejecting a twenty page piece Malfoy insisted was easy and beautiful.

'It's not that difficult! You're just useless-'

'Hey! Let's just keep looking, okay?'

Eventually they narrowed it down to several short songs so simple,

'A child could learn these,' Malfoy scoffed. 'We're going to look like complete amatuers out there.'

'Well me and Ron are amateurs. You can blame us if we look like it in front of everyone.' Harry winced. 'Maybe we can tweek it a bit. Let's focus on picking a song first and learning it together. How about, Bats Under Orion?'

'That's a children's song! A lullabye!'

Like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Harry wondered.

'Let's do that one,' Ron said.

'Uh...'

XXX xxx XXX

Applause and cheering penetrated the curtain, jolting Harry out of his memory.

'Well done!' Professor Flitwick's magically amplified voice called. 'What a splendid performance! Wonderful teamwork! Now, next up are Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter of Gryffindor, and Draco Malfoy of Slytherin to perform Bats Under Orion!'

Surpirsed applause and chatter greeted them as they tramped onto the stage. Harry thought he was going to be sick.

Malfoy seated himself in front of the piano and the Gryffindors stood awkwardly around him.

'Don't look them,' he hissed, seeing their pale faces. His own face was whiter than usual. 'Look at the walls or ceiling. Now we start on three, like we rehersed.'

XXX xxx XXX

'You did really well,' Hermione said to them at dinner.

'It's not like we won first place or anything,' said Ron, though he turned pink and smiled. His ears had been red all afternoon and evening since the competition.

'I'm so glad it's over,' Neville sighed.

'Me too,' said Harry. He dug into his mashed potato.

'But you've performed in front of the school many times.'

'Playing quidditch is very different from playing music. Besides, I kind of forget about the crowd when I'm flying.'

'Oh.'

Mmm, now that the show was over, Harry was really hungry. He heaped a few spoonfuls of deviled sausage onto his plate. They certainly hadn't sounded too bad, in his opinion. A bit weak, but he, Ron, Neville and Malfoy had made it to the end of their piece without any mistakes. This whole thing had actually been a good distraction from the looming third task - no - he was not going to think about that until tomorrow.

'Hogwarts: A History does mention the ceasing of compulsary music classes. They stopped being a compulsary class in nineteen eighty, due to a lack of interest.' Hermione stopped to eat her carrots.

'That's a bit sad,' Neville said.

'I wish that would happen to History.'

Hermione's mouth was full so she glared at Ron.

'It might become more popular again,' she said after swallowing. 'Sometimes classes are cut and are reinstated later. There has been a fencing club on and off since the fifteen hundreds.'

'Cool!' Ron grinned. 'How come there isn't one now? There's no way swords aren't interesting enough.'

'They were probably too interesting,' Angelina, who was sitting nearby with her friends, piped up.

'Yes. Fencing was officialy banned in nineteen seventy two because of the fighting and injuries that occured. Considering the war going on at the time, I'm not surprised.'

'You said fencing was officially banned, Hermione,' Harry noticed. 'Students probably did it anyway in secret.'

'Oh yes. There was a lot of underground dueling going on, swords and spells.'

'I wonder if we could get the fencing club back?' Ron wondered. 'I'd like to whack Malfoy with a sword...'

'That's why we don't have one! And after you performed together today!'

'That git called us "uncultured morons"!'

'Hogwarts: A History says fencing was banned until eighty eight,' Neville told Harry quietly. 'The teachers just didn't bother telling the students that.'

'Oh... Let's not tell Ron just yet,' Harry murmured back.

XXX xxx XXX

* A string instrament. For a better description, look it up on Wikipedia.