SINCE THE DISASTROUS EPISODE OF THE pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought living creatures to class. Instead he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes re-enacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions. Harper knew how stupid he found it, but they had to keep Lockhart in a good mood to let their plan work.

That's why Harry acted as a werewolf without complaining.

"Nice loud howl, Harry—exactly—and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced—like this—slammed him to the floor—thus—with one hand, I managed to hold him down—with my other, I put my wand to his throat—I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm—he let out a piteous moan—go on, Harry—higher than that—good—the fur vanished—the fangs shrank—and he turned back into a man. Simple yet effective—and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework: compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

The class began to leave and Harry made his way back towards Ron, Hermione and Harper who were sitting in the back of the class.

"Ready?" he muttered and Harper nodded.

"Wait till everyone is gone," Hermione said nervously. "All right . . ." She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry, Ron and Harper right behind her.

"Er—Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to-to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section is the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it—I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting moves . . ."

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" Lockhart said, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said eagerly and Harper rolled my eyes. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-stainer . . ."

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student in the year a little extra help," Lockhart said warmly and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he added, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book-signings."

He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the mother and handed it back to Hermione.

"So Harry," Lockhart said, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag, "tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you are a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Alway happy to pass on my expertise to less able players . . ."

The four of them hurried towards the library, not wanting to spend any more time with him than they have to.

"I don't believe it," Harry said, as they examined the signature on the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless git," Ron replied. "But who cares, we've got what we needed."

"He is not a brainless git," Hermione said shrilly, as they half ran towards the library.

"He is, Hermione, just accept it," Harper replied and they dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library. Madame Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture.

"Most Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go.

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, come on," Ron exclaimed, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madame Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough."

Madame Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and mouldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty.

Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron's objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her cubicle, but they were ignoring her, and she them.

Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the four of them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.

"Here it is," Hermione said excitedly, as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people.

"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," Harper said, as she scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. Oooh, look, powdered horn of a Bicorn—don't know where we're going to get that . . . Shredded skin of a Boomslang—that'll be tricky, too—and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" Ron said sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it . . ."

Hermione ignored him and spoke up. "We don't have to worry about that yet, because we add those bits last . . ."

Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry.

"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal? Shredded skin of Boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea . . ."

Hermione shut the book with a snap.

"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. "Harper and I don't want to break rules, you know. We think threatening Muggleborns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, we'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in . . ."

"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," Ron said, looking at Hermione. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay?"

"How long will it take to make, anyway?" Harry asked, as Hermione, looking happier, opened the book again.

Harper leaned back over the book and frowned.

"Well, as the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days . . . I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."

"A month?" Ron repeated. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" But as Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously, he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."

However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron turned towards Harry and Harper.

"It'll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."

• ✧ •

HARPER WOKE EARLY ON SUNDAY MORNING. Breathing in and out, she tried to control her nerves. Once that kind of worked, she stood up and pulled on her Quidditch robes. She then took her Nimbus Two Thousand and made her way down to breakfast, where she found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much.

"Good morning," Harper greeted them and sat down between Oliver and Fred, across from Harry, receiving a couple of good morning's back.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came running over to them to wish them good luck.

"Good luck, Harp!" someone yelled at her and as she turned around, she saw Cedric waving at her from over the crowd. She smiled and gave him thumbs up before following her brother into the changing rooms.

Sitting down next to Harry, Harper listened to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began, "no point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers . . ."

"Too true," George murmured. "I haven't been properly dry since August."

". . . and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."

With a chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry.

"It'll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to."

"So no pressure, Harry," Fred said, winking at him.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses hard too.

Madame Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping hands harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," Madame Hooch said, "there . . . two . . . one."

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upwards, Harper rose up towards the leaden sky. Katie had managed to catch the Quaffle and the three of them flew towards the Slytherin hoops.

Angelina scored and the crowd went mad. Harper gave her a high-five before having to duck for a Bludger, she could feel it ruffle her hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harp!" Fred said, streaking past her with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back towards a Slytherin. Harper saw Fred give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Flint, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for her again.

She dropped quickly to avoid it and Fred managed to hit it hard towards Adrian Pucey. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at her head.

"What's going on with that Bludger?" Harper yelled over at Fred. "Is it me or is it fixing on me?" She flew over to him and ducked as he swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

"Someone's—tampered—with—this—Bludger," Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harper.

"We need a time out," she said, trying to signal to Oliver.

"What's going on?" Oliver asked, as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being flattened. Harper where are you? Haven't seen you take part in any plays."

"It's not her fault, Oliver," Fred said angrily. "That Bludger tried to murder her. Someone's fixed it—it won't leave Harper alone, it hasn't gone for anyone else all game."

"Yeah," George added. "I've got the same problem with Harry here, that Bludger just won't leave us alone. The Slytherins must have done something to it."

"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madame Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then . . ." Wood said, anxiously.

Madame Hooch was walking towards them. Over her shoulder, Harper could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in their direction.

"Listen," Harry began, "with George flying around me all time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."

"Yeah," Harper added. "I'll try to participate in the plays too. I won't let a rogue stop me."

"Don't be thick," Fred said, squeezing her shoulder slightly. "It'll take your head off."

Wood was looking from Harry and Harper to the Weasleys.

"Oliver, this is mad," Angelina said angrily. "You can't let Harper and Harry deal with that thing on their own. Let's ask for an inquiry . . ."

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match," Harper said.

"And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a mad Bludger!" Harry added. "Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave us alone!"

"This is all your fault!" George said angrily to Oliver. "Get the Snitch or die trying—what a stupid thing to tell him!"

Madame Hooch had joined them. "Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.

Wood looked at the determined look on Harper and Harry's faces.

"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard them—leave them alone and let them deal with the Bludger on their own."

On Madame Hooch's whistle, Harper kicked hard into the air and heard the tell-tale whoosh of the Bludger behind her. As she did her part of the play, Katie managed to score. Meanwhile, Harper was zigzagging through the Slytherin chasers, trying to get the Bludger to hit one of them, but it was very determined to catch her.

Harper raced the other side of the field, trying to grab the Quaffle from Slytherin while trying not to get hit by the Bludger at the same time.

Loud cheers came from the stands and Harper looked up to see that Harry had managed to catch the snitch. Cheering, she didn't pay attention to her surroundings any longer. A pain shot up her leg as a Bludger hit it. Harper lost her balance and landed with a heavy thud on the ground, screaming out in pain.

Clutching her leg, Harper dared to look up. The Bludger was coming to her in a alarmingly fast rate and she grabbed her leg before rolling aside, avoiding what could have been her death. She screamed, the pain becoming so immense that it would consume her.

Harper almost cried when she saw the Bludger coming for another round.

"Finite Incantatem!" someone yelled and the Bludger hanged briefly in the air, slowly ceasing the spinning and dropped heavily on the pitch.

Harper let her head fell down onto the grass beneath her, still clutching her leg. A shadow fell over her and as she glanced up, she saw that it was Cedric.

"Harper? Harper, can you hear me?"

Harper's mouth opened but nothing came out as the pain was too much.

She blacked out.

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June 4th 2022
I hope you enjoy it & tell me what you think of it! :)