Chapter 334: Chapter 334: "Face to Face with the Old Dark Lord"
Time passed quietly for Harry at Hogwarts—at least on the surface. He balanced his responsibilities as Head Boy, helped his friends prepare for their NEWTs, and still managed to slip in time for activities beyond the school. In truth, life at Hogwarts was a much-needed respite from the chaos of the outside world, and Harry made sure to savor it. He even found ways to sneak off for secret dates with Fleur, their relationship growing deeper despite the stress of war.
Between his classes and Head Boy duties, Harry also found time for Quidditch. Ravenclaw's match against Slytherin was another triumph, with Harry and Roger Davies scoring over forty goals between them. The final score, 580 to 40, highlighted the vast difference in skill between the teams. With only one match left—Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor—the coveted Quidditch Cup was almost within reach.
While Harry's school life thrived, filled with Quidditch, studies, and a touch of romance, the Dark Alliance knew no such peace. Their days and nights were consumed by constant fear, their operations grinding to a near standstill. Recruiting new allies had become impossible; their focus had shifted to preventing defections. Members were fleeing, terrified of the shadowy assassin who continued to pick off their ranks with deadly precision.
For his part, Harry refused to take any more chances. Aware of his own vulnerability to mistakes, he doubled down on efficiency and precision. Whenever he uncovered the location of a new hideout, he scouted every inch, identified the key leaders, and eliminated them before they could regroup, leaving Voldemort no time to rebuild his forces.
During one of these covert raids, Harry stumbled upon a game-changing piece of intelligence: the exact location of Grindelwald's hideout. The discovery was stunning, and Harry immediately understood its significance. Removing Grindelwald from the equation would sever Voldemort's most powerful European support, effectively confining the war's future battles to England. He spent days verifying the information through careful interrogations, ensuring its accuracy before planning his next move.
Nestled high in the Austrian mountains, Grindelwald's fortress loomed—an ancient castle steeped in layers of dark magic. Its towering spires and shadowy halls radiated a palpable sense of menace. Harry spent several days carefully observing the stronghold, watching the patterns of those who entered and left, and methodically mapping its defenses.
His observations confirmed that Grindelwald was indeed inside. But something nagged at Harry—certain details seemed almost too simple, as if designed to lure him into a trap. Despite his suspicions, Harry couldn't pass up this rare opportunity. If he could remove Grindelwald, Voldemort's European network would collapse like a house of cards.
With that thought, Harry steeled himself. This would not be a quick or easy mission, but the potential payoff was too great to ignore.
---
Under the cover of darkness, Harry infiltrated the hideout. The wards, formidable though they were, proved no match for his meticulous preparation and the power of Death's Cloak. The corridors were eerily silent as he moved with precision, his destination clear: Grindelwald's chambers.
Inside, the old dark wizard sat in an armchair, engrossed in a book by candlelight. Harry didn't hesitate. With a flick of his wand, a silent cutting curse sliced through the air—
The spell connected, and the world exploded in red.
Paint rained down from spelled containers hidden in the ceiling, drenching Harry's invisible form and revealing him in vivid crimson. The "Grindelwald" in the chair rippled like disturbed water, transforming into an expertly crafted dummy.
Before Harry could react, the walls around him vanished, revealing over twenty wizards with wands trained on him. Their expressions were a mix of triumph and menace as they stared at the figure in the center of the room, now vividly marked in red.
They had been waiting for him all along.
"At last," a cold, resonant voice announced from among the gathered wizards. The real Grindelwald stepped forward, his sharp eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "The shadow killer reveals himself."
Without hesitation, a barrage of spells erupted from every direction, converging on Harry's brightly marked form. The room shook with the sheer force of the onslaught. When the dust and smoke cleared, nothing remained of the target except for a shattered dummy coated in red paint.
Grindelwald's triumphant expression twisted into fury. "A decoy?" he snarled, his gaze darting around the room. "Then where—?"
"Looking for me?" Harry's voice cut through the chaos, calm but with an edge sharp enough to make several wizards step back. He stood in the doorway, twin wands raised—his personal wand and the Elder Wand, both gleaming in the flickering torchlight. The red paint dripping from the ceiling had rendered his invisibility useless, but Harry's posture suggested he wouldn't need it.
The gathered wizards froze, their eyes widening in shock and recognition. The blue-eyed wizard from the graveyard. The one who had turned Voldemort's inner circle to ash.
Harry seized the moment of hesitation and attacked. His first spell chain—blasting curses and bone-breakers in rapid succession—caught three wizards before they could even raise their shields. His second volley struck down two more who were still processing what they were seeing.
The room erupted into chaos. Spells crisscrossed the air in lethal streams of light, illuminating the swirling dust and debris. Harry moved like flowing water through their attacks, his Knight-enhanced reflexes letting him dodge or deflect spells with fluid precision. Each movement was a seamless blend of offense and defense—a shield charm twisting into a cutting curse, a sidestep transitioning into a killing blow.
"Surround him!" someone shouted. Five wizards rushed to flank him, coordinating their attacks to overwhelm him.
Harry's response was swift and devastating. He spun in place, the Elder Wand conjuring a dome of pure force that scattered their combined spells, while his personal wand sent piercing hexes through the gaps in their formation. All five fell in seconds, crumpling to the floor with cries of pain.
A particularly nasty curse grazed Harry's shoulder, tearing his robe and drawing first blood. The caster's moment of triumph was short-lived. Harry's eyes locked onto him with an intensity that froze the man in place. A heartbeat later, the wizard was hurled through a stone wall with bone-crushing force, his scream abruptly silenced.
Sensing that the tide was turning rapidly against him, Grindelwald made his move.
"Enough!" Grindelwald's voice boomed across the chamber. With a flick of his wand, he cast a complex shielding spell—a barrier of swirling, iridescent energy that separated Harry from the remaining wizards. Harry immediately recognized the spell from ancient texts. It was no ordinary shield; it was a masterpiece of layered defenses.
Through the shimmering barrier, Harry could see the fear etched into the faces of the surviving wizards. In less than a minute, half their number had fallen. Harry hadn't even begun to use his more exotic spells. His lips curled into a small, dangerous smile.
Grindelwald's eyes narrowed as he studied Harry through the shimmering barrier. "So, you're the one who's been causing so much trouble," he said, his tone laced with disdain but failing to mask the underlying concern. "I must admit, I expected someone... older."
Harry smirked, his expression equal parts amusement and mockery. "And I expected you to be enjoying your retirement. Maybe relaxing in a quiet cottage somewhere, knitting socks, feeding pigeons. But no—here you are, back in the dark lord business. Truly… you never learn."
Grindelwald's features twisted in anger, though he clearly fought to keep his composure. "You're bold, I'll give you that. But boldness won't save you."
Harry shrugged, his casual demeanor practically daring Grindelwald to act. "Nor will your trap. Did you really think I wouldn't notice how conveniently I came across your location? Or how poorly guarded this fortress seemed, considering there's an infamous assassin on the loose? Please. Don't insult me."
Grindelwald's expression darkened further, his frustration mounting. But before he could retort, Harry raised his left hand, spinning the wand between his fingers with deliberate ease. The sight stopped Grindelwald cold. His face drained of color as recognition struck him like a blow.
The Elder Wand.
Grindelwald had wielded it for decades before Dumbledore defeated him. He would have recognized its distinctive shape anywhere.
"Impossible," Grindelwald whispered, his voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of genuine fear.
The shield was weakening rapidly, and Harry could feel it. "Oh? You remember this wand?" he taunted, smirking as he held up the Elder Wand. "Then I'm sure you'll remember this spell as well."
Twin columns of Fiendfyre erupted from his wands, roaring to life as massive birds of flame that dwarfed the fiery display he had unleashed at the graveyard. The creatures of cursed fire twisted and screeched, their burning forms towering over the chamber. Grindelwald's followers froze in shock—they had heard whispers of Voldemort's inner circle disappearing under these very flames.
But unlike Voldemort's frightened lackeys, these weren't mere followers. They were true believers, loyal to the end.
"My Lord, run!" several voices shouted as they moved to form a human shield in front of Grindelwald. Their wands rose as one, their determination unshaken even in the face of death.
"We'll hold it back!" another cried, thrusting an emergency portkey into Grindelwald's hand.
Harry's Fiendfyre smashed through the weakened shield, roaring toward its targets. But instead of finding easy prey, the cursed flames met a wall of answering fire. The remaining wizards had summoned their own Fiendfyre in desperation. A dozen smaller, less controlled infernos collided with Harry's twin columns in a catastrophic explosion of dark magic.
The results were immediate—and devastating.
The competing Fiendfyre did not cancel each other out. Instead, they merged and mutated, growing exponentially as they took on monstrous forms of every magical creature imaginable. The cursed flames became an unstoppable, living entity, consuming everything in their path.
Harry's Knight-enhanced reflexes kicked in immediately. He realized the danger before anyone else and retreated, moving with a speed and precision that allowed him to outpace the rapidly expanding inferno. But Grindelwald's followers, for all their bravery and magical skill, were not so fortunate.
Their loyalty became their downfall. The merged Fiendfyre engulfed them in seconds, their cries of defiance drowned in the roaring flames. Their final act of devotion to their lord became their funeral pyre.
The cursed fire tore through the castle like a living beast, unstoppable and ever-growing. Stone melted into slag, ancient wards shattered under the relentless assault, and the very air seemed to burn. The chaos was deafening—crackling flames, crumbling walls, and the unearthly screams of the Fiendfyre's victims.
In their final moments, some of the dark wizards screamed in triumph even as they were consumed by the flames. They had bought their master the precious seconds he needed to escape.
---
Hovering in the sky, Harry watched as the blazing fortress collapsed into a seething sea of flames, his expression grim. He had hoped to eliminate Grindelwald tonight, but the dark wizard had escaped, using a portkey at the last possible moment. Still, Harry had delivered a devastating blow to the Dark Alliance. Though the outcome was not what he had planned, it was enough—for now.
As the inferno threatened to spread beyond the ruins, Harry moved quickly. He summoned thunderclouds overhead, unleashing torrents of rain to weaken the flames. Then, with precise wand movements, he conjured a massive dome of shimmering energy around the fire, containing it long enough to cast a series of powerful extinguishing spells. He had done this before—too many times to count—and he had gotten good at it. The process was slow, demanding, and exhausting, but Harry persisted, methodically working until the last embers were snuffed out.
When the flames finally died, the once-imposing castle was reduced to nothing more than smoldering ruins. Harry stood amid the wreckage, his breathing heavy but his resolve unwavering. He had missed his chance to kill Grindelwald outright, but the victory was still significant. The Dark Alliance would be reeling from the loss of so many loyal followers, their strength severely diminished.
The war was far from over, but Harry had no intention of stopping until every last threat was wiped off the board. His determination burned brighter than any of the flames he had just extinguished.
With one final glance at the silent, smoke-filled rubble, Harry vanished into the night.
Chapter 335: Chapter 335: "Moments of Light in Dark Times Part - 1"
In the aftermath of Grindelwald's failed ambush in Austria, the Dark Alliance withdrew to a single, heavily fortified stronghold. Their scattered bases, once easy targets for Harry's silent attacks, were abandoned overnight. When Harry finally uncovered their new location after weeks of meticulous intelligence-gathering, he realized they had learned from their previous mistakes.
The compound bristled with specialized wards designed to repel or reveal any invisible intruder. Painful magical waterfalls—similar to those in Gringotts—covered every approach, stripping away concealment charms. Detection fields blanketed the perimeter, layer upon layer, so densely woven that even Death's Cloak might not slip through unnoticed.
"They've gone to ground," Arcturus observed grimly during one of their private meetings. "My sources say Voldemort's temper is worse than ever. He's blaming his own followers for their failures and now demands absolute secrecy. He keeps ranting about some weapon or prophecy that will let him 'end this game of shadows once and for all.'"
Harry only discussed these developments with Arcturus. The rest of his vigilante team remained in the dark. Even if it meant breaking his promise of transparency, Harry preferred to shield them from the full weight of what he was planning. He didn't want them to worry—or to interfere.
He knew exactly what Voldemort was seeking: the prophecy that bound their fates together. Voldemort's obsession with it made his next move predictable, and Harry intended to use that to his advantage.
"Let him chase after it," Harry said quietly, his tone cold and resolute. "The Department of Mysteries is his next target. When he makes his move on the Ministry, I'll be ready. This war ends this year."
Arcturus studied Harry carefully, his sharp gaze flickering with concern. "How confident are you about this plan?"
Harry met his eyes without hesitation. "Confident enough. No more playing around. It's time to end this war before it spills out into the open."
The old man nodded slowly, though the tension in his features didn't fade. He knew Harry wasn't just making a statement—he was declaring an intent to bring the conflict to its conclusion, one way or another.
---
With the Dark Alliance barricaded and inactive for the time being, Harry found himself with an unusual luxury: free time. The abrupt return to a normal Hogwarts routine felt strangely refreshing after so many nights spent hunting dark wizards. He threw himself into his duties as Head Boy, organizing study plans for NEWTs, helping classmates with their questions, and even managing to sneak in a few secret dates with Fleur.
As June approached, both professors and seventh-year students seemed to kick into overdrive. The library became a hub of anxious energy, packed with study groups flipping through textbooks and frantically scribbling notes. The corridors buzzed with whispered discussions about exams, punctuated by laughter and the occasional groan of despair. Stress levels skyrocketed, fueled by endless cups of tea. Even Snape's glares seemed sharper than usual, his scathing comments taking on new levels of ferocity. Still, some students secretly admitted that surviving one of his biting remarks felt like a badge of honor.
Before the final stretch of NEWT preparation could begin, one event captured the school's undivided attention: the Quidditch Cup final between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The castle practically vibrated with anticipation, the air thick with friendly rivalry. Ravenclaw's disciplined, methodical gameplay, led by Harry and Roger Davies, was set to face off against Gryffindor's explosive offense, driven by Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Charles Potter, the Weasley twins, and Ginny Weasley.
Betting pools popped up in quiet corners of the Great Hall, students eagerly wagering on everything from the final score to which player would score first. Even the professors struggled to maintain an air of neutrality. McGonagall's sharp glances at anyone slacking off in class betrayed her support for Gryffindor, while Flitwick's enthusiastic discussions about Ravenclaw's strategic formations hinted at his own bias.
The match promised to be one for the ages, and the entire school seemed united in one thing: excitement for the showdown that would decide the year's Quidditch champion.
---
The morning of the match dawned bright and clear—perfect conditions for Quidditch. As the teams stepped onto the pitch, a roar of excitement erupted from the stands, which were packed with students proudly waving red-and-gold or blue-and-bronze banners. Madam Hooch stood at the ready to oversee the match, her sharp eyes scanning the field for any fouls, while Lee Jordan and Luna Lovegood took their places in the announcer's booth.
"Welcome to the Quidditch Cup final!" Lee's voice boomed. "Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw in what's guaranteed to be one for the history books!"
"Indeed," Luna added dreamily. "I heard the Snitch has been practicing its evasive maneuvers with the Wrackspurts. This should be interesting."
As Madam Hooch blew the whistle, the Quaffle soared skyward, and the match began. Gryffindor's Angelina snatched the Quaffle first, weaving around defenders with help from Alicia and Charles. Ron guarded the Gryffindor goalposts, and on the Ravenclaw side, Cho Chang hovered at the edge of the pitch, scanning for the Snitch.
For the first ten minutes, the score remained locked at 0-0. Ron, playing what was undoubtedly his best game of the season, blocked every shot Ravenclaw's offense threw his way. Meanwhile, Fred and George Weasley launched Bludgers with relentless accuracy, forcing Roger Davies and Michael Roberts to pull back from their usual aggressive plays to avoid being unseated.
On the Ravenclaw side, Harry had taken an unusually defensive position, flying back to assist his Keeper in fending off Angelina and Alicia's unyielding attacks.
"Neither side's letting up!" Lee shouted over the din. "An unusual approach from the elder Potter—he's focusing on defense rather than leading Ravenclaw's charge."
Luna chimed in, her voice calm despite the tension on the field. "He's behaving rather like a defensive Nargle, protecting his territory with care. Very clever, especially with Blibbering Humdingers being so active today."
Lee chuckled, unable to resist Luna's whimsical commentary. "Blibbering Humdingers, Luna? Are they helping or hindering?"
"Oh, they're neutral observers," Luna replied serenely. "But they do enjoy a good dive."
Despite their efforts, neither team managed to break the stalemate. Both sides seemed evenly matched, with incredible saves and defensive maneuvers keeping the scoreboard empty. During a brief lull in the action, Harry flew close enough to mutter, "Time to shake things up," Roger nodded with a mischievous grin.
Chapter 336: Chapter 336: "Moments of Light in Dark Times Part - 2"
What followed was a masterclass in psychological warfare. Harry knew Ron's strengths and weaknesses clearly. Ron was a solid Keeper when he was in the zone, but once his nerves kicked in, his performance could unravel spectacularly.
Harry began an elaborate intimidation campaign, repeatedly charging toward the Gryffindor goals with controlled aggression. Even without the Quaffle, his presence was enough to make Ron flinch. Each time Harry barreled toward him, Ron's eyes would widen slightly before Harry veered away at the last possible moment, leaving the young Keeper visibly rattled.
"Potter's doing something rather interesting," Luna observed dreamily. "It's like watching a Wrackspurt dance. Very pretty, but slightly confusing."
"If by 'interesting' you mean 'driving Ron mental,' then yes!" Lee added enthusiastically. "I haven't seen someone this rattled since the Cannons' last match!"
Harry had chosen not to rely on his superhuman reflexes or strength for this match. With friends on the opposing team, it wouldn't be fair to tilt the game so heavily in Ravenclaw's favor. Instead, he relied on strategy and teamwork to keep the match competitive.
The pressure began telling on Ron. His movements became increasingly jerky, his eyes darting nervously between Harry and the other players. The brief lapse in Ravenclaw's defense gave Gryffindor their opening, though—Charles and Alicia executed a perfect Porskoff Ploy to score.
"10-0 to Gryffindor!" Lee Jordan shouted excitedly. "Finally, someone's broken the deadlock! And look at Ron's face—he's grinning like he's just won the Quidditch World Cup!"
Luna Lovegood tilted her head thoughtfully. "I think he's just relieved the Quaffle didn't turn into a Cornish Pixie. That happened once during a match in 1892. It caused quite the ruckus."
Lee blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? Luna, are you making this up?"
"Oh no," Luna replied earnestly. "It's in Quidditch Through the Ages. Chapter Seven, I believe."
Lee shook his head, chuckling. "Right. Well, regardless, Ravenclaw's not backing down! Just look at Potter and Davies—they're flying like a pair of synchronized Swivenhodge players!"
The setback didn't faze Harry. With Ron's nerves rattled, it only took one genuine push from Roger Davies to punch through Gryffindor's defense. Ravenclaw quickly evened the score at 10-10, and once they found their rhythm, the goals came in a flurry. Harry and Roger wove through Gryffindor's formation with precision, their movements in perfect harmony.
"Ravenclaw leaps ahead!" Lee called out, his voice brimming with excitement. "That's 70-10 now in favor of Ravenclaw! Someone check if Roger Davies has been secretly training with the Tutshill Tornados!"
Luna nodded sagely. "He might be using their Nargle-repellent charms. They're excellent for maintaining focus."
Lee snorted. "Nargle-repellent charms? Luna, I think that's just called raw talent."
Despite the growing score gap, Gryffindor refused to give in. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Charles Potter pushed hard for every opportunity to score, while Fred and George Weasley launched Bludgers with relentless precision, forcing Ravenclaw to stay sharp.
As the match wore on, Ravenclaw's dominance became clear. Harry and Roger's relentless attacks, coupled with their strong defensive maneuvers, kept Gryffindor struggling to keep pace. The scoreboard steadily climbed: 150-30 in favor of Ravenclaw. Gryffindor was running out of time, and the pressure was mounting with every passing second.
Then, the Seekers spotted the Snitch. Ginny and Cho shot into action, their brooms cutting through the air like streaks of lightning as they raced toward the elusive golden ball. Harry, ever the strategist, considered intervening to disrupt Ginny's rhythm, just as he had done with Cedric in Ravenclaw's match against Hufflepuff.
But Gryffindor was ready for him. Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia surrounded Harry in a tight formation, their grins wide and their brooms steady.
"Not this time, Potter," Angelina said with a smirk. "This one's between the Seekers."
Harry chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough. This one decides the match. Good luck!"
With Harry effectively boxed in, all eyes turned to Ginny and Cho. The two Seekers streaked across the pitch in a heart-pounding duel, neither willing to yield an inch. Their brooms seemed to blur as they looped, twisted, and spiraled around each other, their focus razor-sharp.
"Ginny's got the inside track—no, wait, Cho Chang's pulling something out of the bag… some kind of spiral dive—" Lee's voice was breathless with excitement.
"That's the move Cedric Diggory used to practice," Luna chimed in contentedly. "Lovely form. Though I think the Snitch is trying to communicate with the Blibbering Humdingers."
Lee groaned. "Luna, I'm trying to focus here!"
Inches from the ground, Cho executed a flawless twist, pulling aside at the last second and extending her arm. A moment later, her fist shot into the air, the struggling Snitch clasped tightly in her hand.
The Ravenclaw stands erupted in cheers, quickly joined by applause from the rest of the school. "RAVENCLAW WINS!" Lee shouted. "Final score, 310-30! Cho Chang, take a bow—you've just secured the Quidditch Cup for Ravenclaw!"
Luna clapped her hands enthusiastically. "And the Wrackspurts are delighted! They've been rooting for Ravenclaw all along."
The field exploded into a joyous celebration, the boundaries between teams and houses dissolving in the shared excitement. The mood felt more like a joint party than a victory celebration—there was no real enmity between the two houses, and the match had been as thrilling as it was fun.
Fred and George approached Harry, wagging their fingers in mock scolding. "We're going to prank you for messing with our brother's mindset," Fred teased.
"Consider yourself warned," George added, though the mischievous twinkle in his eye betrayed the humor behind the threat.
Angelina and Alicia exchanged warm hugs with Roger and Harry, laughing and chatting about their friendly rivalry.
In the midst of the crowd, Professor Flitwick was practically bouncing with joy as McGonagall handed him the gleaming Quidditch Cup. Roger Davies raised the trophy high above his head, and the Ravenclaw cheers grew deafening.
Harry stood back, grinning as he watched the celebration. He had kept his promise to Roger, and Ravenclaw had won the Quidditch Cup.
---
As the celebrations continued on the Quidditch pitch, Harry's sharp eyes caught sight of the golden trio—now more of a golden quintet with Neville and Ginny—heading toward Hagrid's hut. He had a good idea what they were up to: visiting Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp.
Harry had already met Grawp, albeit in secret. A few months earlier, the centaurs had summoned "Knight Arthur" to discuss a new intruder in the Forbidden Forest. The presence of a giant, even one as relatively small as Grawp, had unsettled the forest's inhabitants. The centaurs, still wary after the Acromantula colony had been cleared out, were concerned about history repeating itself. They didn't want another species disrupting the delicate balance of the forest.
The meeting with the centaurs had taken place under the cover of night, their voices sharp and their stances tense. Bane had been particularly vocal. "We will not tolerate another Aragog situation," he declared firmly. "The spiders bred unchecked for decades, threatening us and the other creatures of the forest. A giant colony would be even worse."
The mention of Aragog had been a sore point. Just months earlier, Harry and the centaurs had worked together to clear out the Acromantula colony, a necessary but controversial move that had deeply upset Hagrid. While the forest was safer, the decision had strained relations between Hagrid and the centaur herd.
Harry had listened to their concerns and proposed a diplomatic solution: a direct conversation with Hagrid. The centaurs, reluctantly, agreed. Harry stayed in the background, unseen and unheard, as the tense negotiation unfolded.
Hagrid, still mourning Aragog's death, had understood the centaurs' fears. "I promise yeh," he said solemnly, his voice thick with emotion. "Grawpy won't cause no trouble. He's learnin' manners, he is."
Surprisingly, the centaurs showed a rare willingness to compromise. Perhaps guilt over the Acromantula situation played a role. "We trust you to keep your word, Hagrid," Dorran, the leader, said gravely. "Your brother may stay, but he must respect our boundaries."
Harry had also taken the opportunity to observe Grawp from a distance. He needed to understand the strength and capabilities of giants, knowing full well that Voldemort might bring them into the war. What he saw reassured him. Grawp was undeniably strong, but his movements were slow and clumsy. Harry's speed, agility, and precision would give him a significant advantage. Giants, for all their power, lacked the quick reflexes necessary to pose a serious threat to him. If it came to a fight, Harry was confident he could handle them quickly and efficiently.
---
Shaking his head, Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts. The Quidditch celebration was in full swing around him, the air filled with laughter and cheers. For a moment, Harry allowed himself to simply be part of the celebration. The battles would resume soon enough, but for now, he had a victory to enjoy, good friends at his side, and—if only briefly—a chance to savor something resembling a normal life at Hogwarts.
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