Harry Potter :Diamond Heart

Harry was in a coma until this morning,' Ron added, 'he got carried out of the camp by one of those beautiful, Bulgarian cheerleaders.' All of the nearby guys turned to give him slightly awed and jealous looks, even Neville.

'You learn that your friend was in a coma and the first thing you do is imagine the cheerleaders.' Hermione shook her head in disbelief. 'I'm going to the library.'

She stalked off leaving her plate half full.

'Wasteful that is,' Ron commented, helping himself to Hermione's plate.

'Imagine what the house elves would think,' Seamus chuckled.

'What was the cheerleader like?' Dean asked, sliding in where Hermione had been.

'Don't remember,' Harry shrugged, 'I was in a coma.'

'I saw them during the game,' Ron embellished, 'they were gorgeous.'

'Hermione said they were veela, apparently they can charm men.' Harry felt he should at least try to defend her viewpoint.

'Anyone that looks like that is going to charm me. Until they grow all this feathers at least.'

'Feathers?' Seamus shot Ron a look of disbelief.

'When they got angry at the end of the match they grew feathers and beaks and started throwing fireballs around. They didn't like that Bulgaria lost,' the red-head explained.

'Is that what started all the fires then?' Neville asked.

'Nah, that was Death Eaters, or people dressed like them,' Ron replied. 'Dad says there was no Dark Mark like they used back in the war, so it might not have been real Death Eaters, just sympathisers.'

'Ministry didn't catch anyone, though,' Neville piped up. 'Gran was furious that they all got away with it. She spent an hour muttering to herself about how useless Fudge is.'

'It doesn't exactly inspire confidence,' Seamus nodded. 'Still, the Irish won, and that's what counts.'

Harry smiled and tried not to remember the ebony basilisk he had conjured from the ash and the dead Death-Eater who he suspected must have been Barty Crouch Junior. He was trying his hardest to forget that, and, when he couldn't, to remind himself that he had only defended himself and killed a wizard who had already been sentenced to worse.

'Let's head back to the common room,' Dean proposed. 'I've got to unpack everything still, but I'm fairly sure I've brought the new exploding snap cards to replace the ones that Lavender lost. Anyone fancy a round or two?'

There was a murmur of mutual consent and the group of them rose to return to Gryffindor Tower.

'Harry,' three familiar voices rang out. He stopped, allowing the others past him to the stairs up to the dormitory.

'Angelina, Alicia, Katie,' he smiled at them each in turn. They looked quite put out.

'Can you believe they've cancelled quidditch,' Katie fumed. 'This was going to be a really important year for us. We needed to start to add new faces to the squad, like a keeper.'

'At least you've got the Triwizard tournament,' Harry placated. 'Eternal glory comes a close second to quidditch, but at a pinch…'

Alicia and Angelina laughed, but Katie continued to fume.

'Are you not going to enter?' Angelina asked. 'I am.'

'No,' Harry declared. 'I'm going for a nice quiet year. No snakes, no dogs, no dementors and hopefully no more trips to Madam Pomfrey either.'

'Fair enough,' Alicia agreed. 'Hogwarts' champion will be from the upper years anyway. We know more than you cute little fourth years.' Harry dodged the attempted pat on the cheek.

'Where do the other two champions come from?' he asked, suddenly curious.

'From Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, they're magical schools in Europe. Some of their students will probably come here to support their champions when we compete.'

'Well good luck, Angelina. I promised the guys I'd play exploding snap with them.'

'Bye, Harry,' they called as he turned away.

Snap didn't last long. Exploding snap games never really did and, despite their attempts to build a pyramid of cards out of both Dean's new pack and the old one that Lavender had rediscovered over the summer, everyone inevitably drifted away.

It left Harry on his own, behind the curtains of his bed, to think. This year had started almost identically to the last three, with the exception of the flying car incident, and for a while he had forgotten his conviction. He had remembered it now. This year might have started the same, but it would be different.

I'll be better, he vowed.

Peter Pettigrew, the one who had betrayed his parents, condemned his godfather to over a decade in Azkaban, and served Voldemort had escaped because he wasn't good enough. He had been the only one with a wand and he'd let the rat get away. It would not happen again. He would bury himself in books if that was what it took.

All summer he had tried to improve himself, to learn everything he should have already known and more. Hermione would not have let Pettigrew get away.

It hadn't been enough.

Harry had advanced far farther than he expected in every area, even potions, but he had still nearly died at the World Cup and had it not been for his inexplicable and terrifying basilisk conjuring he would be.

I have to do better still.

He could test his improvement against his classmates in most areas. As long as he was equal to Hermione that would be acceptable. Harry knew he would never be able to compare with her essay writing skills or general knowledge, but practically casting magic at her level or higher should not be beyond him.

Harry did need to learn how to fight. The disarming spell was useful, but it was also the only combat curse he had. Harry knew you could use transfiguration and conjuration in a duel, but he needed to practice, to learn and to grow before he could consciously do anything remotely useful.

He would be better and by the end of the year. If he ran into Pettigrew again, the little rat wouldn't know what hit him.

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