Nightmares and Daydreams
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I am not a multinational bookselling company, nor am I a multi-million dollar movie company, so I don't own anything that you recognize. I am a retired former teacher who likes to twist plots and play with characters, so enjoy.
Summary: AU 5th Year. Secrets are revealed, alliances are formed and the wizarding world will never be the same again. No slash, no OC. Sevitis.
Chapter 1: The Quidditch Game
A warm breeze bathed the Quidditch pitch as the excited Hogwarts students filed into the spectator stands in ones, twos and small groups, their chatter filling the October afternoon with the pleasant sound of happy laughing children. Not only was it the first game of the new season, and a gloriously warm late autumn day, it was Gryffindor versus Slytherin! Gryffindor was of course standing 100 percent behind Harry Potter, the legendary youngest seeker in a century. The only game he had ever lost had been interfered with by a swarm of Dementors during Harry's disastrous third year. The Ministry, in their brilliant stupidity, thought it would be a good idea to protect a castle containing almost three hundred young and impressionable children with the most terrifying dark creatures known to the entire wizarding world, the Dementors of Azkaban.
Last year had been the sometimes exciting but ultimately horrifying experience of the Tri-Wizard Championship which finished in the brutal death of their classmate, Cedric Diggory. Cedric's death had been immediately followed by darkest blood ritual that re-incarnated the most powerfully corrupt, and no longer completely human, self titled Lord Voldemort, a menace so frightening to the average witch or wizard that they cringed at the sound of his name. Most even refused to speak it, as if the mere utterance of the hated name would cause him to appear; even ten years after the baby Harry Potter had banished his physical body into some bizarre plain of half existence.
The Ministry had again proven that the most imbecilic of people become bureaucrats, and that the worst of them will rise to the top. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic had appointed his own toady woman, who embodied evil incarnate to the students, to the vacant Defense Against the Dark Arts position. She had happily begun abusing the power her boss had given her, by torturing children with a blood quill during detentions; which she gave out even more frequently than Albus Dumbledore handed out sherbet lemons. She refused to actually teach the students any practical defense, insisting that all class periods be spent in useless perusal of the specially selected and totally inane DADA book. Following the theories in the defense book was guaranteed to swiftly cause the death of anyone stupid enough to attempt any of the gruel that the author espoused as defense against a death eater or a dark creature.
So on this fine Saturday afternoon of Harry's fifth year, almost every Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as well as a few secretive Slytherin students had gathered in full force to watch their hero, Harry Potter kick Malfoy's skinny pureblood arse as he had at every previous occasion both on the Quidditch pitch and off.
The anticipation of the match was fueling the conversations around the almost full stands, even the usually studious students of Ravenclaw had turned out to watch the little ferret get pounded into the ground. The roar of the lion hat that perched precariously on the platinum blonde hair of Luna Lovegood periodically startled her fellow students as the sound rose above the general hubbub of a thousand voices all talking at once.
With a final roar of the crowd that left an almost palpable aura of anticipation, Lee Jordan began the commentary with the introduction of the mostly hated Slytherin team. "And for Slytherin house we have the two new beaters, the infinitely forgettable team of Crabbe and Goyle, who together almost have a single brain, ouch, ouch." You could hear Professor McGonagall yelling at her very biased house member while she squeezed his ear in disapproval.
"Jordan, you will keep your comments to yourself;" several people close to her thought they heard her mutter 'no matter how accurate and deserved' before again speaking louder; "And stick to commentating!"
"Yes, Professor of course, now where was I? Oh, yes first we have Crabbe and Goyle followed by Montague, Pucey and Nott; followed by the chief ferret, ow… stop… okay… okay, Professor, their captain and seeker, seems like Daddy's money is at play again for it certainly isn't his flying skills… Draco Malfoy!" Lee was drowned out by a swelling surge of boos that completely overcame the cheers and clapping coming from the green clad section of the stands. Professor Snape, in his usual green robes clapped diligently but he was the only one making much of an effort in the completely filled staff and visitors section. He leaned over to speak softly to the arrogant but aristocratic man sitting in stiff rigidity beside him, the man's shoulder length blonde hair immaculately coiffed and a look haughty disapproval at the booing that the announcement of his son's name had caused.
The Slytherin team took an introductory spin around the pitch, their faces twisted in anger and hatred at the mass of students booing and hissing at them. With Draco in the lead of the flying arrow formation, they managed to make a full lap at what they considered an impressive speed, smugly satisfied that their matching Nimbus 2001's would pound their rival Gryffindors into the ground once and for all.
Their landing however, was almost unnoticed for at that exact moment, the blazing crimson and gold of the Griffindors flashed out of the entrance way, their movements so precise and elegant that it was almost a blur of red and gold, each player indistinguishable as they flew, their speed and grace making the Slytherin team look like a bunch of first years at a random pickup game. The crowd surged to their feet, their support uplifting as it filled the team with a feeling of power and resolve.
Lee was finally heard after a flash of sparks from McGonagall's wand caught the attention of the students that were currently pounding their feet in rhythm on the wooden floors of the stands, a thrumming beat sounding like drums heralding a victorious army home. "And for Gryffindor we have the lovely trio of ladies as chasers, Spinnet, Bell and Captain Johnson, the unbeatable duo of crazy beaters, the Weasley twins. For Keeper, we have Gryffindor's newest Weasley on the team, Ron. And last but definitely not least, the unbeatable… the unstoppable… the incomparable…" McGonagall's voice could be heard muttering, "Just get on with it, Jordan!"
"H-H-H-Harry Potter!" The crescendo of the crowd and the stomping of feet hit a new level of noise that almost made the crowds' ears hurt. Snape and Malfoy had similar twisted expressions of hate and malice on their faces as the rest of the adults crammed into the staff seating area cheered though not as exuberantly as the students had.
The cheering had barely slowed down when the Gryffindor team landed neatly and precisely in front of their green clad and scowling counterparts, Madame Hooch in her black and yellow referee's uniform standing waiting patiently with a large wooden crate rattling in anticipation at her feet. "Now I want a CLEAN game, ladies and gentlemen." She looked particularly hard at the Slytherin team as she announced this.
Malfoy waited for Alicia Spinnet to step up to him and grudgingly grabbed the hand she thrust out, trying to break her fingers as he squeezed, a malicious curl to his thin lips making his normally aristocratic face look ugly and unattractive; but she had offered him her fisted hand and his squeezing was ineffective. Refusing to be baited, Alicia simply held her fist tight while George sent a surreptitious stinging hex from the wand hidden up his wide uniform sleeve, causing Draco to flinch back, tucking his hand under his armpit in a move that caused peals of derisive laughter from the witnessing crowd. The pale faced prat looked around trying to find out who had humiliated him by making it appear that Alicia's grip had hurt his hand but he couldn't find anyone looking particularly guilty so he just glared at the Gryffindors before mounting his broom and signaling with a haughty snap of his head for his teammates to take off; his stiffly pomaded hair not moving in the slightest with the jerking movement.
Unfortunately the game deteriorated quickly after that, the Gryffindor team was quickly able to score a brilliant blitz of goals, pushing the score up to 120 to 0 in their favor before the dastardly and despicable tactics of the Slytherin team became abundantly clear to everyone in the crowded pitch. The beaters and chaser were taking advantage of the fact that Madame Hooch could only look in one direction at a time, so while she was issuing a penalty shot for blatching against Goyle, Crabbe and Montague had pinned little Katie Bell between them; squeezing the girl until they heard the crack of breaking bone before releasing the now dazed chaser to almost fall of her broom at her sudden release from the two brutal behemoths that had assaulted her. With an arm holding tight to her ribs, she refused to land, as that would make her team fly a man down against the brutal tactics of the Slytherins though the pain of her now broken collar bone was clearly etched upon her pasty white face.
Ron Weasley had been targeted for bludger after bludger as he tried in vain to protect the three rings of the Gryffindor goals, but a near miss caused his head to come into sharp contact with one of his own rings, causing a roar of laughter and derisive taunts about his flying skill and questionable parentage from the smirking Slytherins. Even the massive amount of penalty shots being awarded by Madame Hooch couldn't stop the unstoppable climbing of the Slytherin points. When Crabbe deliberately clipped the side of Angelina's head, causing a slash of bright red on her forehead that dribbled a steady stream of blood threatening her vision, the Slytherins finally managed to pull ahead of the much more honorable Gryffindor team who refused to use the gutter tactics of their opponents even if they lost the game because of it.
Snape and Malfoy, Sr. were laughing and making snide comments into each other's ears as the rest of the staff grew increasingly irate at the tactics of the green clad team, while the look of pure glee on Professor Umbridge's face would send any sane person running for cover. The poor Gryffindors were beginning to look like they were in an aerial battle rather than a school Quidditch team. Dumbledore rose, his face showing his clear displeasure and utter disgust at the blatant brutality of student against student. It was unheard of to stop a match in the middle; but this had ceased being a match a long time ago and was rapidly becoming a one sided bloodbath when Harry finally spotted the golden flash of the snitch out of the corner of his eye.
He had been circling at a height of several hundred feet up, trying to avoid Malfoy's feeble attempts at injuring him when he tipped the nose of his Firebolt down into an almost vertical dive, he almost pulled up when the first flare of a missed spell made his hair smoke, the smell of singed hair enraging the wizard as he turned his head over his shoulder and glared at the pointed face of his nemesis. Draco had a wand taped to the inside of his right hand and was muttering spell after spell at Harry as he crouched low over the handle of his broom, urging every inch of speed out of his world class broomstick. As he pulled away from Malfoy, he began to swing back and forth, up and down, keeping his path erratic enough to miss the steady stream of multicolored spells that Malfoy was flinging at his defenseless opponent. Luckily Draco's usual bad aim was even worse on a moving broom against an opponent on a broom moving at over 150 km per hour; so Harry was relieved until he realized that as bad as Malfoy's aim was, he might actually get hit by accident if he didn't finish this off quickly and decisively.
As Harry turned to the north to follow the elusive flight of the small snitch, the sun flashed on the front of Malfoy's broom, revealing a sharp blade attached to the front of the shaft. Surprised at the length that Malfoy was willing to go to in front of hundreds of witnesses, Harry hunched down even further over the polished wood of his beloved Firebolt and dove, straight down, intent upon his goal. He flew up, down and through the startled players, his focus intent and single minded. Malfoy had to stop sending spells at Potter as he was now too low and flying around the other team members like some skier in a bizarre slalom course, his speed never slowing as he wove in and out, avoiding collisions by centimeters, the whirr of the heavy iron bludgers warning him of impact with just enough time to gracefully change his direction. At the speed the very talented seeker was flying, a change of a single centimeter was enough to change his flight path by several meters in just a few seconds.
Harry made a final turn, completely oblivious to the shocked stares of the other twelve players as he focused on the elusive snitch, now floating halfway between Malfoy and himself by some stroke of miserable fortune. Harry saw both the flash of gold from the small ball and the deadly flash of bright silver with an odd green tinge, making some small portion of his brain wonder if Malfoy's blade was poisoned as well. He took off, a blur of crimson and gold, almost too fast to watch, his legs tightening as he planned his strategy in just a split second of frantic thought.
Malfoy hugged his own Nimbus as he snarled at Potter, secure in the knowledge that he was closer to the snitch than the Gryffindork and that he would finally make his watching father proud of him. He pushed his broom faster; his eyes locked on the rapidly approaching Potter when his opponent did something that surprised even him, making him hesitate for a single moment as the distance between the two teenagers closed inexorably. The snitch had made a steep drop, falling almost twenty feet in the blink of an eye. It stopped and just hung in the sunlight, teasing those who sought to catch it.
The entire audience was on its feet, the huge stadium silent as the battle between the two seekers played out at a heart stopping speed, over one hundred feet above them. Harry waited until he was mere seconds from the other seeker before flipping upside down, his arms over his head as he flew directly at Malfoy. Malfoy smirked and pointed the sabotaged broomstick directly at Potter's chest, perhaps he would even manage to kill the bane of his father's master; perhaps that would make the entire wizarding world sit up and take notice. It would be his name that would be remembered with fear. His name would make everyone shudder when his name was spoken. He would join his father in the inner circle and he would make all of the Mudbloods and blood traitors pay for their very existence.
Harry had taken his feet off of the stirrups of his broom and crossed his legs at the ankles, hanging upside down like he loved to do on the metal climbing bars at his old primary school, though he had never attempted it while traveling at over 150 km per hour before. His hair and robes hung straight down, his glasses plastered to his head by his excessive speed, his hands were outstretched and ready, slightly cupped as he neared his goal.
When the first fluttery touch of the snitch registered on his left hand, he closed his hand, instinctively pulling his arm back to cradle the tiny ball against his chest. His momentum from his barrel roll began to turn him up and around on his broom again when pure agony sliced through his consciousness. He looked up to find the maliciously gleeful face of Malfoy hanging triumphantly over him, the deadly shaft of his broom slicing Harry's leg open from knee to ankle before the blade caught in the top of Harry's heavy Quidditch boot.
When the knife caught, the resistance flipped the tip of the boom down, the twigs of the broom flying upward in a spinning arc, flinging Malfoy off the front of his broom like a catapult. Arms twirling madly, legs grabbing ineffectively at nothing, Malfoy screamed a high pitched girlish sound that threatened to break the eardrums of the utterly horrified audience. One trouser leg was caught in the stirrup of his Nimbus, pulling the broom along with his headfirst flight directly toward the ominously near staff section. Both Snape and Malfoy, Sr. were throwing 'arresto momentum' but so far every spell had missed the human missile that was aimed directly at them, his broom following as it spun cartwheels through the empty air.
Malfoy's madly flailing foot connected with the twigs of his broom and flipped the broomstick shaft up and over his head before a sickeningly wet and very loud crunching sound announced the meeting of Malfoy with his father. The two sprawled lifelessly over the hurriedly emptied staff benches, the blade that Draco had used to slice open Harry's leg was ironically buried into Lucius' chest, impaling the thoroughly dead man in the heart. Draco was still breathing, but the angle of his limbs was ample proof that he would be visiting Madame Pomfrey before being turned over to the Ministry for charges.
Harry had managed to finish his swing upward, his limp left leg dangled, blood flowing off the bottom of his boot and splashing the grass still seventy five feet below him. He had dropped the snitch when he had felt the first cold and blindingly painful slash of the knife in his leg, instinctively grabbing the thin shaft of this Firebolt with both hands and his right leg. He felt a powerful 'arresto momentum' hit him and silently thanked the Headmaster for his help. His vision tunneled in as the unknown poison from Malfoy's blade coursed through his body; the blackness growing as his vision narrowed to a pinprick before disappearing completely as he fell from his broom, his body limp and unmoving as he plunged downward until he hit with a sickeningly dull thud, audible over the completely stunned and silent crowd.
AN: I know this is short, but it's really just setting the stage for the rest of the story. I promise I will update soon so no potentially fatal flames. And if you want to flame please give me the common courtesy of leaving your name and a way to contact you back.
AN: For my faithful readers of my other stories, You Broke Him, You Fix Him has only one more chapter before its conclusion, and should be finished in the next week or so. Unfortunately Paddy's Little Pup has been shelved for a little while, since my muse is refusing to co-operate and I have been thoroughly disappointed in the writing of the chapter I am currently writing. So for now, I offer this new story. Let me know if I should continue. Thank you for reading and a big thank you for everyone who takes the time to review.