I use the dead wood to make the fire rise
The blood of innocents burning in the skies
I filled my cup with the rising of the sea
And poured it out in an ocean of debris

I'm swimming in the smoke
Of bridges I have burned
So don't apologize
I'm losing what I don't deserve
What I don't deserve

"Burning in the Skies"
Linkin Park

HARRY:

When I opened my eyes Saturday morning, Ron was already awake.

"You alright?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

He nodded. It seemed he was afraid to open his mouth and reply out loud. He looked rather sick to his stomach, not unlike second year when he had slugulus eructo-ed himself.

"Right." I pushed myself out of bed and clapped his shoulder. "You just need some breakfast, you'll feel better. C'mon."

We had two very different receptions. The Slytherin table, obviously, greeted us with jeers and laughter, but to my surprise, a lot of it was directed at Ron. Everyone was wearing a silver badge, a crown with some type of writing on it, but I was shoving Ron past so quickly I couldn't read what they said. The Gryffindor table, on the contrary, greeted us with cheers and grins, which seemed to make Ron feel even worse than the boos of the Slytherins.

The twins and the girls weren't there yet, so Ron collapsed into his seat and braced his head in his hands.

"I must've been mental to do this. Mental," he groaned.

I shoved cereal his direction and sighed. "Don't be thick. You're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous."

"I'm rubbish. I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?"

"Get a grip. Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant!"

He sighed and turned to me, confessing in a whisper, "That was an accident, I didn't mean to do it, I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and I was trying to get back on and I kicked the Quaffle by accident."

I blinked. Then scrambled to pretend this wasn't an unpleasant surprise. "Well, a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?"

Before he could reply, Hermione and Ginny and Lucy arrived. All three girls had a little extra Gryffindor pride that day — Hermione had a Gryffindor beanie pulled down tight over her bushy hair, Ginny's face was covered in sparkly red and gold stars almost as numerous as her freckles, and Lucy's ponytail was tied back with a red and gold bow so large it stuck out a little bit over the top of her head and off to the side behind both ears.

"How're you feeling, Ron?" Ginny asked as she landed next to Lucy across the table from us.

"He's just nervous," I replied.

Hermione offered a confident smile as she slid in next to Ron. "Well, that's a good sign! I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous!"

"Hi, Luna," Lucy said, smiling and waving over my shoulder.

Ron, Hermione, and I turned to see Luna. Er, well, part of Luna. A lot of her head was hidden under an extremely-realistic lion's head.

"Hello," she replied in the same dreamy voice she always used. She pointed to her hat. "I'm supporting Gryffindor. Look what it does, Lucy helped me charm it last night." With a tap of her wand, the lion roared, making the Great Hall jump collectively. "It's good, isn't it? I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway, good luck, Ronald!"

And with that, she skipped over to the Ravenclaw table, leaving us all staring at the hat, mouths agape. When we finally turned back around, the twins had joined us and Lucy was studying Ron with concern, the grin that had been on her face at the sight of the lion head having disappeared.

Angelina descended a couple minutes later, Alicia and Katie on her heels.

"When you're ready, we're going to go straight down to the Pitch, check out conditions and change," she said. She glanced at Ginny. "You have the...?"

Ginny nodded, beaming as she patted the pocket of her jumper, which looked somewhat Snitch-shaped. "I have it."

"Excellent!"

"We'll be down in a bit, darling." Fred made a point of shoveling a massive spoonful of cereal into his mouth, then continued to attempt to talk through it. I think he said something along the lines of "We still have breakfast to eat," but it was a bit difficult to discern.

Angelina shoved his head. "You are disgusting. See you there in a minute."

After about five minutes, it became clear Ron was incapable of eating anything. I took one more swig of pumpkin juice and rose to my feet.

"Well, I suppose we should head down," I said, glancing at Lucy. The twins jumped up, but she remained in place. I opened my mouth to ask why she wasn't heading down too, but then I remembered. Oh. Right. "Well, enjoy the match."

She nodded. She attempted to smile, but it failed, so she quickly turned to Ron, as if she hoped I wouldn't see that. "Good luck, Ron! You'll do great!"

"Thanks, hope so," he mumbled, rising to his feet reluctantly and turning to follow us out.

Hermione rose to her feet, too, and grabbed my arm after Ron had walked in front of me. "Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges," she hissed. Before I could ask why, she hurried forward and popped onto her toes to kiss Ron on the cheek. "Good luck, Ron! And you too, of course, Harry."

"What, I don't get a kiss?" George asked from the other side of the table.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes as she sat back down.

I pushed Ron forward so he wouldn't see the badges — frankly, he was a little too distracted for a couple of reasons to take notice anyway, touching his cheek where she'd kissed him and turning pink just the littlest bit — but I hazarded a glance myself.

They all read "WEASLEY IS OUR KING." Coming from the Gryffindors, or Hufflepuffs, or even the Ravenclaws, that might be a good sign. But from the Slytherins... Merlin only knew what they had in store for the match.

"Oh, this weather is perfect," I said as we stepped outside, trying to encourage Ron. "No wind! Playing in the wind is always difficult, Quaffles are far more unpredictable that way. And the clouds are helpful, we won't have to worry about the sun getting in our eyes, and they don't look too threatening yet, so hopefully we won't have to deal with rain or snow during the match."

Ron made no reply. The twins filled the silence the rest of the way down to the Pitch recalling the horrific first match from third year, where we were playing against Hufflepuff in a terrible thunderstorm. In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't the best story to tell—

"Lucy might have fallen even without the help of the Dementors!"

"I thought she was going to blow away and disappear behind the mountains and never be seen again!"

"You falling from the sky was really something Harry—"

"—and not in a good way!"

"Yes, obviously not in a good way, why would I—'

"Just clarifying!"

—but it was better than the tense silence we would have otherwise had. Once we got down to the changing tent, we all suited up. The room still felt distinctly empty without Lucy, though there were still seven of us. Suddenly remembering something odd at breakfast, I headed over to Angelina.

"What did you give Ginny?" I asked.

"Oh, that! Well, you know how Skye had Lucy on standby your first year, in case something happened? Well, I thought this game might get a little messy — not because of Ron," she added quickly when she saw the angry look on my face, "I just mean that Slytherin is known for playing rough."

"That's fair," I said with a sigh. "I broke my arm playing Slytherin, didn't I?"

"Yes, in the same match Lucy had her face flattened because she kissed a Bludger."

"That's one way of putting it."

Angelina laughed. Her expression grew more serious, and she lowered her voice. "I tried to convince her, you know, to stay on the team."

I nodded.

"I tried to convince her to take the Snitch, too," she continued, so earnestly I wondered if she thought I was the only one who might understand her desperation. "Ginny tried to convince her to take the Snitch, damn it! But she shut down and shook her head and said she would be rubbish because she's out of practice and just kept making excuse after excuse to not come back. Ginny's great, she's certainly very talented, but she's not Lucy, you know?"

I nodded again. "Yeah, I know."

"We're fine for this year, especially if we survive today, considering how much more violent Slytherin is, but next year..."

"Oh." I glanced around the locker room. Fred. Angelina. Alicia. George. They were all graduating. "Well, damn. Hadn't even thought of that."

"Well, now you have." Angelina smiled and ruffled my hair. "Work on convincing her to join the team again next year, will you?"

"I'll try. I've been trying," I muttered as I flattened my hair indignantly.

"Sounds like a plan. I reckon you'll be captain next year, having the most experience on the team and all." My heart lifted at the thought. Harry Potter, Quidditch Captain. I realized I wouldn't mind that title. She stepped back to address the room as a whole. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, let's talk!"

Everyone gathered in a loose circle, fiddling with pads and helmets a bit.

Angelina pulled a piece of parchment from her locker. "Okay, I've only just found out the final lineup for Slytherin. Their Beaters from two years ago have left now, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them."

"Oh, we do," Ron said.

"Gorillas is a kind description, maybe even too kind," I added.

"Are those the idiots with Malfoy that we, er, decorated on the train in June?" Fred asked.

He and George snorted as Ron and I nodded and grinned at the memory.

"Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from another, but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way onto the Pitch without signposts," Angelina quipped as she tucked the parchment into her locker. "Sounds like these two are of the same breed?"

"Definitely," I said. I glanced at Ron, hoping the comments about Crabbe and Goyle had lightened his spirits, but he was looking rather green again and staring at the ground.

Angelina slammed her locker definitively. "It's time. C'mon everyone! Good luck!"

We all swung our brooms over our shoulders and headed out onto the field. I could hear singing, for some reason, but the words were drowned out by the cheers, whistles, and the roar of Luna's lion hat. I followed the sound of it and found it in the crowd. Next to Luna was Ginny, and next to Ginny, Lucy, still wearing the distinct bright red-and-gold ribbon. She smiled and waved when she saw me looking, and I smiled back before returning my attention to the field in front of me.

The Slytherin team was already there, all wearing those crown badges. My smile vanished instantly. Malfoy smirked when he saw me glaring and tapped the badge as if I hadn't already seen it. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to Angelina and Montague, who were shaking hands. Montague looked like he was trying to break her fingers, but Angelina didn't flinch.

When the whistle blew, we kicked up into the air and the match began. Lee's commentary was entertaining as always.

"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me!"

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall interrupted.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest, she's dating Fred Weasley anyway, another fine specimen — and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch — been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe. Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and — nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor, replacement for Lucy Diggory, reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away—"

I tore my eyes away from the Pitch and glanced toward Lucy to see if she was alright after the little comment about her, but she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were roaming the sky, flashing between the Chasers and the Bludgers and the Keepers and everywhere in between; I got the impression she hadn't missed a single detail of the game so far, and she didn't even need Omniculars to do it. Her eyes flickered to me, and she managed a small smile before glancing away again.

Right. I'm playing in a game right now. I should pay attention.

"—dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

Lee paused to listen to the song rising from the stands, but I wished desperately he hadn't as soon as I heard the words.

"Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King!
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King!"

I felt anger beginning to burn in the pit of my stomach as I forced myself to tune everything out, the song, the commentary, everything. The sooner I caught the Snitch, the sooner the game would end, and the more likely it would be that we won.

Unfortunately, the Snitch was nowhere to be seen. The song swelled louder and louder. Lee shouted louder and louder in an attempt to drown it out.

I forced myself to concentrate. Waiting for the Snitch.

Ten-zero, Slytherin in the lead. Waiting.

Twenty-zero, Slytherin in the lead. Waiting.

Thirty-zero, Slytherin in the lead. Waiting.

Forty-zero, Slytherin in the lead. Waiting.

Forty-ten, Katie scored her first goal. Waiting.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

There.

I turned my broom handle perpendicular to the ground and hurtled toward the Snitch. Malfoy, unfortunately, was right on my tail, and when the Snitch changed direction, it headed toward Malfoy and away from me. I refused to let Slytherin win. I pulled my broom around as tightly as I could, placing all of my trust into the broom from Sirius, it was the day after his birthday after all, and extended my hand, and—

YES.

My fist closed around the Snitch, Malfoy's fingernails clawed uselessly at the back of my hand, I pulled up, and the game was won.

My victory was short-lived, though. A Bludger slammed into my back and sent me sprawling onto the grass. I wasn't too high off the ground, fortunately, but the wind was still knocked out of me until Angelina hauled me to my feet.

"Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, of course," I replied. "Well, that could have been worse, I guess.

She huffed. "It was that thug, Crabbe. He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch — but we won, Harry, we won!"

I started to smile, but I heard a scoff behind me.

Malfoy's annoying drawl. "Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you? I've never seen a worse Keeper... but then he was born in a bin. Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him.

I turned around and grinned at the team, which was just beginning to land. I didn't see Ron, but before I could look too closely for him, Alicia and Katie were hugging me. But Malfoy wasn't done.

"We wanted to write another couple of verses, but we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly!"

Angelina sighed. "Talk about sour grapes."

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him.

"We wanted to sing about his mother, see, and we couldn't fit in useless loser either, for his father, you know."

The voice in my head went silent as I turned around to face Malfoy again.

Angelina's voice seemed quiet compared to the roaring in my ears. "Leave it. Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little—"

Malfoy still wasn't done. "But you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter? Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay."

George lunged for Malfoy, but I reached out and grabbed his arm to hold him back.

The voice in my head remained silent. Like an animal. Waiting. Being poked, prodded, provoked.

Waiting. Pacing. Contemplating. Looking for a weakness in the cage, or perhaps a strength in itself.

"Or perhaps you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it—"

There.

Before I knew what I was doing, I punched Malfoy in the stomach with every ounce of strength I possessed. My wand, the teachers, my magic, the audience, all of it was far from my mind. I just wanted to hurt Malfoy as much as humanly possible as fast as humanly possible and my fists were the answer I needed. George helped with his fists too, and his mouth, swearing with every punch thrown.

All I knew was that Malfoy would pay for everything, for everything, for what he said about Mum, and Dad, and Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley, and Ron, and Hermione, and Lucy, oh, especially for what he said about Lucy, what he'd done to Lucy...

"IMPEDIMENTIA!"

I was launched backward off of Malfoy, crashing into George in midair. When I pushed myself up, ready for another round, I realized Malfoy was curled up on the grass, bleeding profusely from his nose, groaning pathetically.

"What do you think you're doing?" Madam Hooch shrieked as George jumped up too, looking ready to fight again too despite his swollen lip. "I've never seen behavior like it — back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"

We didn't look at each other or say a word as we stalked off the Pitch in the direction of the castle. I realized the Snitch was still struggling in my clenched fist, trapped beneath my bruised knuckles. I shook my head and let it go.

We had only just reached the door to Professor McGonagall's office when we heard her storm up behind us.

"IN!"

We entered, and she marched behind her desk, stripping the Gryffindor scarf from her neck and fixing us with her cold, furious gaze.

"Well? I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two onto one! Explain yourselves!"

I kept my voice as cold and level and calculated and logical as possible. I didn't regret a thing. "Malfoy provoked us."

"Provoked you? He'd just lost, hadn't he, of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth can he have said that justified what you two—"

George took this one. "He insulted my parents, and Harry's mother."

"But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle dueling, did you?"

"Not to mention authoring that horrible song about Ron," I added, "and not to mention everything else he's ever done—"

"Have you any idea what you've—"

"Hem, hem."

George and I whirled around in unison.

The smile on Umbridge's face could only mean something horrible was heading my way.

For the first time, I regretted what I had done. Just a bit, though. Just a tiny bit.

I instinctively flexed my hand into a fist. I must not tell lies.

"May I help, Professor McGonagall?" she asked in that voice, that horrible voice. George's eyes flickered between my hand and the Pink Venomous Tentacula in the doorway. Anger like I had never seen before on his face flooded his features.

He's thinking of Lucy.

And just like that, I was too.

And just like that, I wanted to do worse to Dolores Umbridge than I had done to Draco Malfoy. Because the words of Lucy's scar matched the words of mine. But even worse than that, Lucy's scar was worse. Worse because of Malfoy, because of his lies.

Everything within me burned at the injustice of it all.

"Help? What do you mean, 'help?'" Professor McGonagall repeated icily.

She smiled. "Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority."

George and I turned back around as Professor McGonagall glowered at Umbridge. "You thought wrong." She turned her eyes back to us, but it was not the same raw, furious anger it had been. There was something else in her eyes now, hiding in the shadow of the anger. Protectiveness, maybe, now that Umbridge was here. She looked at my hand, too. She's thinking of Lucy, too. "Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, your behavior was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's worth of detention! Do not look at me like that, Potter, you deserve it! And if either of you ever—"

"Hem, hem."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a full three seconds before looking up at Umbridge again. "Yes?"

"I think they deserve rather more than detentions."

"But unfortunately, it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores. They will have detention with me—" As in, not you. "—starting tonight after dinner."

"Well, actually, Minerva, I think you'll find that what I think does count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it — I mean, the Minister just sent it — ah yes." She drew a piece of parchment from her handbag and cleared her throat. "Hem, hem. 'Educational Decree Number Twenty-five.'"

"Not another one!" Professor McGonagall protested.

"Well, yes. As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we needed a further amendment. You remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling to allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn't have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she — that is to say, I — would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don't you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor team re-forming? Dreadful tempers! Anyway, I was reading out our amendment. Hem, hem. 'The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, et cetera, et cetera.' So..." She smiled directly at me. "I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again."

I felt as if I'd had freezing water dumped over my head. "Ban us? From playing... ever again?"

Somehow, somehow, her smile widened. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick. You and Mr. Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped too — if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr. Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall, the rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them. Well... good afternoon to you."

And with that, she left the room.

The parchment fluttered in her hand.

I wished I still had the Snitch in mine.

I hadn't realized it would be the last I would ever hold.