A week later, after their weekly DA session, Neville asked Harry to stay after they were finished. Ever since Neville’s sudden departure from the Great Hall, Harry had been watching his roommate more closely. Neville seemed even quieter than normal, and he noticed quick flickers of rage would occasionally appear on Neville’s face, especially when reading The Daily Prophet. There were also a few times when Neville would come up to Harry as if he wanted to talk, but then turn around and leave the room. So, Harry was not surprised when Neville had finally asked if they could talk.

When everyone else had left, Harry mentally requested two comfortable chairs and the Room obliged. He waved at one of the chairs, indicating for Neville to sit down before asking, “What’s up, Neville?”

Neville looked uncertain as to how to start. After a few seconds of hesitation, he finally asked, “Harry, how do you do it? You seem to be upbeat, even with what’s happened in your life.”

Harry was confused. “I’m not following you.”

Neville hesitated before taking another tack. “Don’t you get angry? Do you hate V … He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for what he has done to you? After all, he did kill both sets of your parents.”

Harry thought for a moment, trying to figure out where the conversation was going, but was still lost. “Sure, I get angry, but I try to stay focused on what I have to do. And when I do get angry, I come here to the Room of Requirement and workout. Sometimes I even use a punching bag and conjure a picture of his face on it. It’s amazing what a little physical exertion can do to chase away bad feelings.”

This idea seemed to interest Neville. “Is that what you do in the mornings before breakfast?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time I just workout with the rest of the Quidditch team, but there are times when I need to let off some steam and pummel his face.”

A quick smile appeared on Neville’s face before it became unreadable again. Neville paused, appearing to look for the correct words. Quietly, he asked, “Do you ever want to kill him?”

Harry was taken aback at the question. “Neville, obviously you are asking these questions for a reason. Can I ask why? If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but it might help me if I knew where you were coming from.”

Neville thought for a moment. “This isn’t something I share with people, because I don’t want their pity, but if anyone can understand how I feel, I figure it must be you.” He took a deep breath and continued. “When I was a toddler, right after You-Know-Who and you disappeared, some Death Eaters broke into my house and attacked my parents. My parents were Aurors, and from what I have learned, the Death Eaters thought that my parents might know where their Dark Lord was. Anyway, the Death Eaters tortured my parents with the Cruciatus Curse, but my parents couldn’t give them the information they wanted. They used the curse so long, my parents’ brains were destroyed. Now they live on St Mungo’s long-term resident ward, because they can’t care for themselves. I still visit them, but they don’t recognize me. The closest I ever get is that my mum seems to realize that I am someone who cares for her and often gives me a used gum wrapper.” He looked down at his lap, obviously embarrassed at sharing this personal information.

When he looked up again, Harry saw the anger he had noticed on occasion reappear on Neville’s face. “The Death Eaters who tortured my parents were sent to Azkaban for their crimes, but they were among the ones who escaped last month. One of them was the witch that you saw me duelling on Saturday.” Harry nodded in understanding. He remembered how Neville had left the Great Hall so quickly when the news of the Azkaban breakout had been in The Daily Prophet. He and Ginny had noted the anger on Neville’s face when he faced her. Now it all makes sense, he thought.

“When I saw her, all I could think of was all that I had lost not knowing my parents. I was just filled with so much rage, I couldn’t think straight. I forgot everything we’ve been learning in the DA and she defeated me easily. But even as she was torturing me, I had this overwhelming longing to kill her. The feeling was so strong, I barely even felt the Cruciatus Curse she had on me. So, I ask you again, do you ever want to kill V … Voldemort?”

Harry thought for a moment before answering. He didn’t want to lie to his friend and Neville deserved a proper answer. However, he also knew that Dumbledore wanted him to keep the prophecy secret and, even if he was free to reveal it, he wasn’t sure if Neville was ready to hear that he could have been the child of prophecy if Voldemort had chosen differently. Choosing his words carefully, he said, “My situation is a little different. You see, Voldemort is obviously out to kill me. He’s tried four times now. So, from my standpoint, it’s either kill or be killed. I don’t like it, but it’s something I am trying to learn to live with. But in answer to your question, yes, Neville there are times when I want to kill him in revenge for what he ordered done to my parents back home. What he did to James and Lily Potter is more of an abstraction to me, since I never knew them, so that doesn’t make me as angry.”

He let that sink in a moment before continuing. “Let me ask you a question, Neville. Now that you have thought about it, how do you feel about this desire to kill her?”

He dropped his head. “Guilty, ashamed,” he said, barely loud enough for Harry to hear him. “I’ve always been taught that wizards for the Light don’t have those feelings. I’m afraid I’m going over to the Dark side.”

Harry fought hard not to laugh at Neville’s inadvertent Star Wars reference. “I don’t agree; even the best of us do have those feelings, but we don’t act on them. That’s what makes us different from them, Neville. They want to kill, they enjoy killing, and they feel no remorse for it. On the other hand, while we may occasionally want to kill someone, we don’t want to do it unless absolutely necessary, and we feel guilty about it afterwards. I felt horrible after that article came out about that Death Eater who had been killed in the battle, but Ginny reminded me that we are in a war and there are going to be casualties. But the key is that I didn’t try to kill him, and I still felt guilty afterwards.” Harry reached over and put his hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Merlin, you even feel guilty about thinking about killing the witch that ruined your life. That’s nothing to worry about. You are definitely not going over to the Dark. What you are feeling is normal for someone in your situation.”

Neville met Harry’s eyes for the first time in several minutes. “What do I do about it, then? I keep feeling these cycles of rage and then guilt. I haven’t slept a whole night since that battle. I’m having a hard time concentrating in class. I’m a wreck.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Do you want to get revenge on this witch, this … what’s her name?”

“Bellatrix Lestrange. Yes, I do. But she is so much stronger than I.”

“Well, then start focusing your thoughts on training to defeat her. What can you do to give you an advantage the next time you face her?”

Neville considered Harry’s question. “I can work harder in the DA.”

“That’s the same idea I had. What else can you do, say, for instance, in class?”

“Try to apply what I’m learning so that I can use it to beat her.”

“Exactly. That’s what I do in class, or with Professor Lupin. I think, ‘How can this help me defeat Voldemort?’ Sometimes it can be difficult, especially in Transfiguration, but, if you can be creative, ideas can come to you. It also keeps me more engaged in class when my mind tends to drift.

“But I also recommend that you don’t constantly dwell on it. Are you and Hannah still together?”

A faraway look appeared on Neville’s face. “Yeah.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched a little at Neville’s response to thinking about Hannah. “You mustn’t let your wish for revenge to overtake you. Have some fun. Spend time with her. Visit a few broom cupboards,” he said with a smirk. “Talk to her. Have you shared these feelings with Hannah?”

Neville shook his head, looking down in his lap again. “I’ve been too ashamed to admit it.”

“I don’t know how close the two of you are, but I would guess that she would like to share this burden with you. She is a Hufflepuff, after all. I can’t tell you how helpful Ginny has been to me. If I didn’t have her, I am sure I would spend all my time brooding and none of you would want to be around me.

“And, when you get angry, come here and work it off. You’re welcome to join us in the mornings and I can show you how to use the equipment and then you can come anytime you want to work off some steam.”

“Really? You’d let me come workout with the Quidditch team?”

“Sure, there’s plenty of room. And I can work with you on one-on-one duelling during DA as well. We’ll work together to get you as ready as you can be the next time you meet her.”

Neville blinked in surprise at Harry. “I really appreciate this, Harry.”

“No problem, mate.” Harry stood and gave Neville a hand up from the comfy chair. He looked down at his watch. “Now, it’s getting late, but I think there is enough time for you to find a certain blonde and get some snogging in before curfew. Do you know where to find her?”

A grin broke out on Neville’s face. “I do,” he said as he walked briskly to the door. “Thanks again, Harry. See you in the morning?”

“Six sharp,” Harry replied. “See you then.”

************

Harry took a deep breath, calmed his nerves, picturing in his mind his ultimate objective, before waving his wand and saying the incantation. He was in the Transfiguration classroom, with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, completing the practical portion of his seventh year project. After Professor Flitwick had received Harry’s scroll on the concept of magic being carried on electromagnetic waves, they had been trying to come up with a way to prove his theory. It was eventually decided that Harry would try to create an electromagnetic barrier in hopes that Muggle electronics could work in the Wizarding world, using his Walkman CD player as the experiment. Initially he had tried lead, as he knew that lead blocked x-rays and other types of radiation. Lead, however, had two disadvantages. One, it was very heavy. Second, while it did seem to block some of the magic–he could get the Walkman to turn on– it obviously didn’t block it totally as he couldn’t get it to do anything else. Remus had taken him to a Muggle university library and they learned that, for other electromagnetic wave frequencies, such as microwaves, copper was the preferred shield. Copper by itself didn’t work either, so with the two professors’ help, Harry was going to try to transfigure an electromagnetic wave shield with these two materials woven together.

He started by transfiguring the carrying case for the CD player, changing the fabric from nylon to burlap, because it was easier to concentrate on the woven pattern of the rough fabric. “Conmuto Textura” he said as he waved his wand over the material, and he watched the black nylon slowly change to light brown burlap.

“Excellent, Mr Potter,” said McGonagall. “Now, concentrate on the vertical threads in the burlap and do the next step.”

He took another deep breath and almost whispered, “Pertexo Plumbum” as he moved his wand up and down over the burlap parallel with the vertical threads. As he did, they began to change to a dull grey. “Whew. It worked.” He then turned his wand in the other direction and said, “Pertexo Aeramen.” This time the fibres perpendicular to the lead ones took on a reddish sheen.

“Wonderful, Harry. That is a very difficult spell to master, and you did it on the first try!” encouraged Professor McGonagall.

Harry picked up the transfigured carrying case. It was a little heavier than it had been originally, but the metal threads woven together did make a flexible fabric not that different from the original.

“Now, we just need to see if it blocks the electromagnetic waves like we hope,” added Flitwick.

Harry picked up his CD player and put it inside the new case and put his earphones on. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered as he pushed the power button and then play. His face broke out in a wide smile as he was greeted to “Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen.

A smile appeared on the two professors’ faces also. “I take it that it works?” asked Professor McGonagall. Harry nodded and removed the earphones. “Excellent. Now, all you need to do is work on the paper describing your research and procedures. If you need any help with that, especially the Magical Theory, since your education has been focused on practical work, let me or Professor Flitwick know. I am sure Miss Granger might be able to help you as well.”

**********

The next Saturday was the second Quidditch match of the season, this one against Hufflepuff. Ron increased the practice schedule again, but not as intensely as before the Slytherin match. While Hufflepuff had an okay team, they probably would not provide much competition to the Gryffindors. The day of the match, Harry felt much less nervous than he had before the previous match and had no problem eating a good breakfast with the rest of the team.

As the game started, it was obvious that Hufflepuff was going to be more of a challenge than they thought. They were using a strategy much more in keeping with Slytherin with very physical play and aggressive use of the Bludgers, especially against Harry. Harry found himself dodging a lot more than he had ever had to in practice and it was difficult to keep his eye out for the Snitch when he was constantly scanning for Bludgers. The Chasers were also under attack and several times Harry heard Ginny letting out a grunt or squeal when she was hit by a Hufflepuff Chaser, but she took care of herself well and still managed quite a few scores. Because of the more physical play, there were more penalties called as well. Apparently, while the Hufflepuffs were trying to emulate the Slytherin style, they weren’t as good at hiding it, so they were caught fouling by Madam Hooch more often. Ginny scored four times on penalty shots.

After playing for about ninety minutes, Gryffindor was leading 180-120, much closer than they had anticipated. Harry had just finished avoiding another Bludger when he finally spotted the Snitch for the first time near the Hufflepuff goals. The Hufflepuff Seeker, Summerby, was closer to the Snitch, but hadn’t seen it yet, so Harry flew as fast as he could toward the Slytherin stands, causing Summerby to follow him. At the last second, Harry pulled out of his dive and headed for the Hufflepuff goals. Unfortunately Summerby wasn’t as agile on his broom and couldn’t stop in time, ploughing into the Slytherin fans. Harry found the Snitch again and was reaching out for it when a Bludger came out of nowhere and hit him in the upper arm. A loud crack echoed through the pitch as Harry grabbed his right arm with his left. He could feel the bone edges grinding against each other if he moved it at all, so he knew it was broken. He pulled his arm against his chest and slipped his hand and wrist inside his Quidditch robes at the front to stabilize it, sort of like a make-shift sling. Holding on to his broom with just his left arm, he circled around searching for the Snitch again.

The crowd was still silent from the sound they had heard, concerned about the injury that Harry must have sustained. Madam Hooch had stopped the game, so Ginny flew up next to him, asking, “Are you alright, Harry?”

“I’ll be alright. Just keep putting the Quaffle in the goal and I’ll get the Snitch,” Harry said through clenched teeth.

Even though she was hovering next to him, she sat up straighter and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t believe you, Potter. Remember our connection. My right arm hurts too. Are you sure you can keep playing? We can get Lydia to take your place.”

“No, I can handle it.”

Ginny shrugged and flew off to await the resumption of play. In the meantime, Harry reassured Madam Hooch that he could play and she blew the whistle to allow play to resume. Harry flew tentatively at first, but then more comfortably as he learned what manoeuvres would cause pain to his arm. Fortunately, having it in his robes did keep it supported fairly well and he was able to fly fairly normally. The Gryffindor Chasers increased the lead further, but they could not get the lead over 100 points, so he knew the outcome of the match was still in his hands, well, at least his left hand.

He spotted the Snitch again about fifteen minutes after his injury. Summerby had been shadowing him after the restart, so as soon as Harry started for it, Summerby was next to him on his right. Summerby took advantage of his knowledge that Harry’s right arm was injured by repeatedly dropping his shoulder and knocking into Harry. Each time they collided, Harry felt a sharp pain that radiated down his arm. The pain continued to increase with each blow, to the point that he was starting to get a little nauseated and lightheaded from it. After five hits, Harry knew he couldn’t handle much more, so he tried a risky move; he performed a barrel roll to his left and, as he was rolling, went a little to his right so that, when he came back upright, he was actually to the right of Summerby. The momentum of his roll carried him into Summerby’s right side, and Summerby, not anticipating this sudden move, was knocked hard off his path, almost falling off his broom. While Summerby was regaining his balance, Harry shot off toward the Snitch. As he neared it, he squeezed the broom handle between his thighs, let go with his left hand, and reached toward the Snitch. The little ball did a last second swerve to the right, but Harry was able to follow it and grabbed it, ending the match.

“Potter catches the Snitch with his left hand, giving Gryffindor the victory, 390-140!” announced Luna Lovegood, the commentator for the match. “That was quite impressive, Harry, catching the Snitch with no hands on your broom. Good show!” she added.

Harry took the Snitch and put it down his shirt so that he could more easily steer his broom to the ground. As he landed, he was mobbed by his teammates, and, as he was engulfed in the group hug, his right arm was jostled, causing intense pain again. He let out a muffled yell of pain, and then everything went black.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the hospital wing with a very concerned Ginny looking down at him. “You’re awake! How are you feeling? Does your arm hurt?”

Harry noticed that his arm wasn’t in pain any more, and he moved it gingerly at first, but then lifted it over his head and said with a grin, “It’s fine; no pain at all!”

Ginny said, “Good,” and then proceeded to wallop him in the left arm. “You prat! How could you be so reckless with such an injury? Madam Pomfrey said you had a severe fracture with the bone in several pieces and you never should have continued to play with it. Had you had another hard blow to it, you might have lost your arm altogether! Why did you have to be so macho and play hurt when you were obviously in a lot of pain?”

Harry rubbed the sore spot where Ginny had hit him. “Ow, that actually hurt, Ginny. You pack a strong punch,” grinning at her, but his attempt at teasing was not well received, as Ginny’s glare intensified.

“I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “I didn’t realize that the fracture was that bad. I once played a baseball game with a broken rib after getting hit by a pitch, so I thought I could tough it out.”

“Don’t let it happen again, Potter. That’s why we have reserves. You’ve been working with Lydia and you know she has improved. She’s not as good as you, but she could have beat Summerby.”

“Okay, if I’m hurt again, I’ll let Lydia take my place.”

McGonagall walked up at that moment with a smirk on her face. “Miss Weasley, if you are done lecturing Mr Potter about his recklessness, he has a visitor who would like to speak to him.” Ginny nodded, blushing a little, and the older woman turned and waved over a man that was standing by the door. He was short, but solidly built, like an athlete. He strode over quickly to Harry’s bed and reached to shake Harry’s hand, when he stopped himself, “How is your arm? Are you okay to shake hands?”

“Yes, it feels good as new. The left one, on the other hand, may take some more time to heal,” he said with a grin and a glance at Ginny as he rubbed his arm again. Ginny rolled her eyes and slapped at his left shoulder.

“Good. Mr Potter, I am Lorcan O’Toole, a scout for the Ballycastle Bats, an Irish Quidditch team. I had come to watch your match to check out Mr Weasley because we need a new Keeper next year, but I didn’t expect to see such a fine Seeker, also. You fly like you’ve been doing it all your life, but I know from your press coverage that you just started this summer, which is just amazing. If this is how you can fly after just eight months, I can’t imagine how much better you could get. Have you ever thought of playing Quidditch professionally when you are done with Hogwarts?”

Harry was stunned. “No, I guess I haven’t thought about it, but then again, I’ve only known about Quidditch for a very short time.”

“Well, start thinking about it. The Bats would like to sign you to play Seeker for us. Practice starts this summer with the first games in September. I am going to leave a contract with Professor McGonagall for you to review because I want to get you on our team before anyone else finds out about your skills. I’ll give you a couple weeks to think about it. I also have two Ballycastle jerseys for you and Miss Weasley. If you have any questions, just send me a letter. And if any other teams contact you and make any offers, let me know also, as we might be willing to beat whatever they offer. Please be in touch, Mr Potter, because we would love to have you wearing a Bats uniform in the fall.”

He shook Harry’s hand again and, as he turned to leave, he looked back over his shoulder and said, “Miss Weasley, I know you still have a year to go at Hogwarts and I shouldn’t be talking to you yet, but, while we are strong at the Chaser position for the coming year, I think we will need a new Chaser the next year, so keep us in mind.” He then continued on his way out of the room, leaving two speechless teenagers. Ginny unfolded one of the jerseys, which were black with a scarlet Bats logo on the front. She turned it around and saw that the back had a large number 7 on it with “POTTER” across the shoulders. Hers was smaller, also with Harry’s number and name.

Harry turned to Ginny with an incredulous look on his face. She hugged him and said, “I’m so proud of you, Harry! Professional Quidditch! That would be wonderful.”

“You, too! We could play together when you finish school.”

Into the hospital wing strode Ron and Hermione, Ron waving a parchment over his head. “You feeling better, Harry?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, good as new. What do you have there, Ron?”

“You’ll never guess,” he said, the excitement obvious in his voice.

A mischievous twinkle in her eye, Ginny said, “A professional Quidditch contract, perhaps?”

“How did you know?” asked Ron.

“Mr O’Toole just left here and offered Harry a contract as well.”

“Really, Harry? You received an offer too?” asked a dumbfounded Ron.

“Yes. Congratulations, Ron,” said Ginny as she hugged him. “I know you’ve dreamed of playing Quidditch professionally for a long time. Too bad it’s not with the Cannons.”

Ron shrugged. “Well, I don’t have to sign this immediately; we’ll have to see if other offers start to come in, but this is a good one. Ballycastle is a much better team; their Keeper is retiring after this season, and apparently their Seeker is also.”

“And one of their Chasers might be retiring next year; he told Ginny to keep them in mind.”

“Ginny, too? It could be a real family affair, as you’ll be a part of the family by then.”

Madam Pomfrey came up at that moment. “Let’s check that arm out, Mr Potter. Any pain? Full movement?” She waved her wand over his right arm and then said, “Looks like it is healed. You are free to go back to your common room; I understand there is a little bit of a celebration going on. Mr Potter,” she added sternly, “no risky behaviour for the next few days; I don’t want to see you again for a while.”

Harry jumped out of bed, grabbed Ginny’s hand and the two couples left to join the party. By the time they arrived, it was already going strong, but when Harry, Ron, and Ginny ducked through the portrait hole, the decibel level increased immediately. The crowd started singing “Weasley is Our King,” a song that Slytherin had started singing a few years ago, mocking Ron, but Gryffindor had changed the words and used it regularly as a cheer for their captain. The party became even more raucous when Ron and Harry’s offers were announced. It continued for many hours, until Professor McGonagall came in at 2 a.m. to break it up.