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.
Chapter 337: Chapter 337: "The Calm Before the Storm"
The Quidditch Cup victory had been a fleeting moment of joy, quickly swept away by the tidal wave of exam preparations that engulfed Hogwarts. The castle, typically alive with laughter and chatter, now buzzed with a different kind of energy—tense, frantic, and unrelenting. Students hunched over stacks of parchment, their eyes darting between worn textbooks and hastily scribbled notes. The library overflowed with desperate study groups, and even the Great Hall, usually a place of respite, had transformed into a makeshift study hall during meals.
Harry Potter, however, had no intention of joining the hordes of panicked students in their last-minute cramming. He had spent the year steadily helping his classmates, answering questions and guiding them through tricky subjects. But now, with the NEWTs looming, he found himself under siege. Every corridor became a gauntlet of frantic questions, every meal interrupted by urgent pleas for help.
"Harry! Just one more question about Switching Spells—"
"Potter! Can you explain this part about antidotes—"
"Harry, please! The Charms practical is tomorrow—"
The constant demands began to wear on Harry's nerves. While he sympathized with their stress, he couldn't spend every waking moment tutoring the entire seventh year. It was too much. After the second day of this siege, Harry decided enough was enough. He began employing his considerable stealth skills not against dark wizards, but against his own classmates. The Room of Requirement, various hidden passages, and even the Chamber of Secrets became his refuges.
He had already completed his revision weeks ago and was more than prepared for his NEWTs. What he needed now was space to think—a quiet place to clear his mind and escape the chaos of Hogwarts.
---
The solitude gave Harry the time and clarity he needed to reflect on the year's battles. In the quiet, he could meditate, focus, and absorb the skills and experiences he had gained.
This year had been a whirlwind of conflict and growth. From skirmishes with vampires to the high-stakes raid on Grindelwald's fortress, every battle had honed Harry's skills and deepened his understanding of what it meant to be both a warrior and a Knight. He had faced dark wizards, magical beasts, and even his own doubts, emerging stronger with each challenge.
Surprisingly, Harry felt himself on the verge of a breakthrough. Each day, he recognized how close he was to transcending his current Knight level and achieving something he had only read about in ancient texts: becoming a Great Knight.
The strain within him was like a bowstring drawn taut, awaiting its final release. Yet, he was stuck. The last step—the one that would elevate him to the rank of Great Knight—remained just out of reach. It wasn't a matter of skill or knowledge but the absence of a worthy opponent. From experience, Harry knew that he needed one final, high-stakes battle—an all-or-nothing confrontation that would push him past his limits.
And he knew such a battle was coming.
Harry didn't know how events at the Department of Mysteries would unfold, but he felt the confrontation approaching like a storm on the horizon. In the original timeline, it had been the canon Harry's vision of Sirius being tortured that lured him to the Ministry. But this time, there were no visions, no dreams, no warnings. With the absence of the soul fragment tethering them to Voldemort, neither he nor Charles had been plagued by mental intrusions.
Yet Harry knew the battle would still happen. The universe, in its strange way, had a tendency to correct itself, ensuring that certain events occurred regardless of the changes made to the timeline. It was a truth he had come to understand over the years: the will of the world was like a current, sweeping everything along its predetermined path. No matter how much he prepared or how many precautions he took, the confrontation at the Ministry would come to pass. It was a fixed point in time.
If his instincts weren't enough, intelligence from various sources confirmed his suspicions. Arcturus had heard whispers that the Dark Alliance was planning "something big," and all signs pointed to the Ministry of Magic. Harry had no doubt the prophecy was at the center of it all.
He had warned Sirius and Amelia, urging them to prepare for what was coming. The two were quietly mobilizing their most trusted Aurors for the inevitable confrontation.
"Keep the Order out of it for now," Harry had advised Sirius during a brief meeting. "There are too many loose lips. Mundungus Fletcher alone could compromise everything."
Sirius had reluctantly agreed. While the Order's resources could be valuable, the risk of information leaks was too great.
---
Meanwhile, Dumbledore's silence was telling. The headmaster had barely spoken to Harry since their last confrontation, instead focusing all his efforts on Charles.
Through careful observation and snippets of gossip from the ever-active Hogwarts rumor mill, Harry learned that Dumbledore was devoting significant time to training his younger brother. Knowing his own time was limited, the headmaster was intent on preparing Charles properly.
It was a stark contrast to the cryptic and vague guidance the canon Harry had received in his own timeline. There were no riddles or half-truths for Charles. Without the influence of Voldemort's Horcrux clouding his mind, Charles was being shaped into a capable and well-rounded wizard—a true successor to the fight against darkness, not a sacrificial pawn.
A pang of bitterness struck Harry as he thought of his canon counterpart. That Harry had been little more than a pawn, his fate sealed by a prophecy he hadn't even been aware of for much of his life. But Charles… Charles was different. Dumbledore was pouring real effort into him, teaching him advanced spells, strategies, and techniques, preparing him to confront the shadows head-on.
And yet, Harry couldn't shake an unsettling thought: Dumbledore might also be preparing Charles to face him.
Harry was no saint, and he knew it. He operated in shades of grey, far removed from the Light that Dumbledore held dear. It wasn't hard to imagine the headmaster fearing that once Voldemort was gone, Harry's power, methods, or ideology might pose a new challenge. If Dumbledore thought Charles would need to stop him, it would explain the intensity of the training.
The idea left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth. The thought of Charles—his own brother—being groomed to oppose him someday was disheartening, even cruel. But Harry forced the feeling aside. There were more immediate threats to focus on, and dwelling on hypotheticals wouldn't help anyone.
For now, he would let Dumbledore play his games and train Charles. When the time came, Harry would deal with whatever fate threw his way, just as he always had.
---
Soon, the examination period officially began. OWLs and NEWTs ran simultaneously over two intense weeks, transforming the castle into a pressure cooker of academic stress. Even the ghosts seemed to sense the tension, floating through walls more quietly than usual.
For Harry, however, the exams felt like an afterthought. He was confident in his mastery of the course material. What truly occupied his mind was the ticking clock of events outside Hogwarts' walls. Somewhere in the Ministry of Magic, the prophecy lay waiting—a lodestone drawing both Voldemort and destiny toward it.
The exact timing was uncertain, but Harry's instincts told him the confrontation would coincide with the exams. The universe would ensure it, and he would be ready when it did.
For now, though, he had a Transfiguration practical to attend. Even knights needed to pass their NEWTs, after all.
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