It was the first Saturday of November that the first Quidditch game was issued.

The weather was taking a turn for the worst; The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost and Ciara often caught Hagrid wearing rabbit fur gloves and enormous beaver skin boots.

On the day of the first Quidditch game, Ciara kept glancing outside, wondering how Harry was going to play in the weather. It would be Harry's first match after training for weeks and, just his luck, it was Gryffindor v.s. Slytherin.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play (not even Ciara, much to her annoyance) because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. Despite the fact they tried to keep it quiet, the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow (Ciara put her money on Malfoy.)

Breakfast before the game was agony for Harry and everyone around him. It mainly consisted of Harry moving his food around and everyone else telling him to eat.

"You've got to eat some breakfast." Ron said hesitantly.

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry." Harry said, causing Ciara to look up.

To put it simply, Harry looked terrible. His face was as pale as a ghost's and he kept wiping his palms on his pants, trying to rid them of their nervous sweats. Ciara's heart clenched in sympathy.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan with a mouth full of food. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," Harry said dryly, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

And Ciara had enough.

"Seamus, eat your food and stop talking, you're making it worse. Harry," she turned her steely gaze towards him, "you need to eat. If you don't you won't have enough energy to play Quidditch or find out what Professor Snape was doing around that three-headed-dog."

That was something the four Gryffindors had almost forgotten about. Apparently when Harry was going to retrieve Quidditch Through the Ages (a book Hermione had lended him) back from Professor Snape, he instead found Snape and Filch together, the latter handing the former bandages for his bloody and mangled leg, while the potions masters complained about the three-headed-dog.

"Ciara-"

She raised her eyebrows at Harry's retort, almost daring him to protest. Harry was only able to maintain eye contact for a few seconds before he looked down and started eating a piece of toast. Ciara hummed in satisfaction before going back to her own breakfast.

Neither of the two saw the look Ron and Hermione shared.

✨💎⚡

Ciara was sitting next to Ron and Hermione when the game started, anxiously biting her lip. Now that the game was only a few minutes away, Ciara could stop the worry that pooled in her stomach. She felt like if she sat still for another moment, she would get sick.

Hence, the squirming in her seat.

"You alright," Ron asked.

"Peachy," was her strained response.

Madam Hooch started speaking before he had a chance to question her, pulling both of their attention back toward the field.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she spoke loudly, loud enough that everyone could hear her. She seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year. Ciara saw Harry peering up into the stands and she waved enthusiastically, catching his attention immediately. She was surprised he was looking at her and not the Potter for President sign someone had made for the game.

Ciara never knew, but Harry's heart skipped when he saw her smile.

For some reason, he immediately felt braver.

"Mount your brooms!"

Both teams complied, and at the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle, fifteen brooms rose into the air.

Although Ciara did enjoy watching the game, Lee Jordan's commentary was better.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Ciara didn't bother to swallow her laugh.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc– no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goalposts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goalposts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

The shouts and cheers of the Gryffindor's quickly drowned out the moans and groans of the Slytherins. Ciara had never been so invested in anything in her life, and it was only when someone bumped into her that she pulled herself away from the game.

"Budge up there, move along," said a familiar voice and Ciara's face lit up in joy.

"Hagrid!"

After giving Hagrid a hug, Ciara, Ron, and Hermione squeezed together to give the man enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan said, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?"

Ciara didn't even have time to look for it when Harry dived downward after the snitch. But the Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Ciara clasped her hands firmly together as she watched anxiously.

Harry was much faster than Higgs, Ciara was certain. She wasn't even aware that she was leaning forward, watching with anticipation as Harry put on an extra spurt of speed and—

WHAM!

Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, leaving Harry to hold on for dear life.

Ciara gasped in horror and her hands flew over her mouth. 'Harry!' she cried out. Harry stuck his arm out and sent Ciara a thumbs up. "I'm okay!" he called out.

Relief melted the tension from her shoulders and her hands moved from her mouth to her chest.

The Gryffindors were crying in outrage, most of the screaming, "Foul!"

Ciara wasn't sure if she wanted to know what that was.

While Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint, Dean Thomas kept screaming at the top of his lungs, "Send him off, ref! Red card! Give 'em a Red!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" questioned Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"What the hell is soccer," Ciara questioned.

Either they didn't' hear her or ignored her, because no one answered her question.

"They oughta change the rules." Hagrid grumbled, "Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan had a lot to say on the matter as well.

"So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating —"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul —"

"Jordan, I'm warning you —"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

The game continued normally for the next few minutes. And, for a while, Ciara actually had hope that nothing bad was going to happen.

But who was she kidding, something bad always happens.

And this time, it was Harry's broom.

It gave a sudden, frightening lurch, and for a second, she thought he was going to fall.

'Harry, what's going on?' She questioned.

'I don't know! I've never felt anything like this!'

Her heart fell to her stomach.

Harry's broom started acting even worse and if Ciara didn't know any better, she would almost say it was trying to buck him off.

"Harry's lost control of the broom," she cried and over half of the Gryffindor students looked up at their Seeker. The broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. The whole crowd gasped as Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and

he swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

Ciara's heart was beating wildly in her ears.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape — look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars to look, but Ciara already saw what she was talking about; Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something — jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before either of the two could question the witch, she dashed off into the crowd. Ciara stole the binoculars from Ron before he could protest and quickly found Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it seemed almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified as their Seeker lost control over his broom. The Weasleys twins flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but every time they got close to him, the broom would go even higher. As soon as they realized what was happening, they dropped lower and circled beneath him, hoping to catch him if he fell.

'Hold on Harry,' Ciara thought softly, she didn't want to risk being the reason that Harry lost his concentration and fell.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron whispered from beside her.

She didn't know what happened, but suddenly, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom. Ciara finally felt like she could breathe.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes. Hagrid had been awkwardly patting his back for comfort.

The binoculars fell from Ciara's grasp when she saw Harry speeding toward the ground, his hand outstretched like he was reaching for something, before it was placed over his mouth as though he was about to be sick. Her heart surged again when he hit the field on all fours and started coughing. But before she could truly start to panic, something gold fell into his hand.

The Golden Snitch.

"I've caught it!" He cried, "I've caught the snitch!"

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it didn't matter. Harry hadn't broken any rules and Gryffindor won the game. Before anyone could blink, Ciara was out of the stands and the other Gryffindor followed in suit. The winning house quickly swarmed the field, but Ciara was already ahead of them.

She threw her arms around Harry and she cheered, "You did it!"

At the same time, Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up in the air, spinning her around and laughing in triumph, "I did it!" When he finally set her down, they didn't pull out of their hug. Instead, Ciara rested her head on his shoulder and smiled at him.

'Your parents would be proud,' she thought.

Harry's smile became softer.

By that point, Lee Jordan was still screaming the results of the game. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. They were now in second place for the house cup. It was amazing, it should have been a good time.

But, unfortunately, Harry needed to know what happened to his broom.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining after Hagrid filled Harry's tea cup, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, placing the kettle back onto the stove. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

The four friends looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said defensively.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah — he's mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," Ciara protested.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, refilling Ciara's tea cup. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel —"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself and Ciara finally took pity on him.

"I'm sorry Hagrid," Ciara said softly, "You're right. We really shouldn't mess with this. We'll stay out of it. I promise."

The trio stared at her in shock while Hagrid visibly relaxed. They left quickly after that and as soon as they were out of earshot, Ron lit into her.

"What do you mean we'll stay out of it," Ron hissed, "Like hell we will—"

"I know that," Ciara scoffed, "But we need to get Hagrid off our tail if we want to keep looking. We make sure Hagrid loses his suspicions about us, we find out why Snape wanted past the dog, and Hagrid gets none of the blame if we get caught."

As if summoned by his name, Snape passed them in the hallway, glaring at the four as he left.

"Besides," Ciara said with a shudder, "There's something off about him, and I want to find out what."

✨💎⚡

November 16th is officially the best day of the year.

At least, according to Harry and Ciara.

As soon as Harry awoke that morning, he ran down to the Great Hall, where Ciara had just finished eating her fourth breakfast roll (and shoving some more into her pocket). Surprisingly, the weather was a bit warmer than it usually was in November. The sun was shining and it was a clear day. Of course, you still needed a scarf and gloves, but Harry didn't mind that.

He had a feeling Ciara wouldn't either.

"Ciara," he cheered, dashing across the hall like a mad man and pulling her into his embrace, spinning her around as he did.

She laughed, returning the hug with great enthusiasm and crying, "Harry!"

Neither knew that the Great Hall fell silent, watching their interaction with curious eyes, nor how the teachers were looking at them like they were either the most beautiful thing, or the most heart breaking.

They stayed in each other's embrace before Harry pulled away, grinning ear to ear, "C'mon!"

Ciara's laugh echoed through the Great Hall as they left, leaving a confused student body and teaching staff in their wake.

"Should we make sure their not getting into any trouble," Professor McGonagall whispered to Professor Dumbledore, "I mean, given that-"

"No," he said, his eyes holding an all-knowing twinkle, "If there is one thing Miss Riddle has taught us is that we are not our parents. And just as Miss Riddle isn't her father, Mr. Potter is not his. They won't do anything too reckless. They won't go looking for the stone."

✨💎⚡

Harry and Ciara finally found themselves resting by a tree by the black lake.

The sun was high in the sky, warming the ground beneath them. They started shedding the scarves and gloves while they were talking, placing them into a pile not too far away from them. They wordlessly munched on the rolls Ciara took, laughing and smiling like they didn't have a care in the world. They just wanted to join the anniversary of their first telepathic conversation by being happy.

After all, on this fateful day eight years ago, they were both crying

He was hurting, but if you asked him, he would never tell.

The cupboard was dark and cold, the moth-eaten blankets worn thin and doing little to hold in any heat. Spiders scurried along the edge of his vision, keeping themselves wrapped in the shadows as they danced around him, their beady eyes mocking him and his situation.

Under different circumstances, better circumstances, he would shoo them away or put them on his shelf.

But he was hurt, everything hurt. 

His back and sides were burning and bruised, a print of Vernon's boot stamped all over his body. His ring finger was swollen from where Dudly stepped on it and he was surprised that it didn't shatter on impact. His ankle hurt too, but that pain was nothing compared to the pain in the rest of his body. 

Under different circumstances, better circumstances, he would shoo the spiders away or put them on his shelf.

But this wasn't different, this was normal.

As the three-year-old laid curled on his side, a childish part of his mind came forward. He opened his swollen emerald green eyes and peered around the cupboard, tears falling freely and his bottom lip trembled.

"Mumma?" his voice was hoarse from being choked, "Dada?"

No one answered.

His silent crying grew worse.

"Pa'foo?" He tried again, "Moo'y?"

His pain grew with his cries and his sobs only became slighted audible.

'Please...' He prayed, 'Please...someone help me...'

'Hello?'

Harry's crying came to a sudden stop and he peered around the cupboard again, as if searching for the source of the voice. Other than the spiders that danced in the corner of the cupboard, he was alone.

'Hello?' The voice spoke again and Harry now realized that it was a girl, 'Are you okay? Can you hear me?'

He sat there silently, waiting for the girl to say something else, anything else, just to make sure he wasn't crazy. But the girl said nothing, she was as silent as he was, almost like she was waiting for him to speak.

Maybe she is, Harry thought. Maybe she is waiting for me to speak.... He glanced around hesitantly, if he was caught, Vernon would be furious, the punishments would be severe. 

But if he didn't... then he would never know who the girl was, or how he could hear her. 

It couldn't hurt to try, he decided. So he closed his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He was achingly aware of how quiet the house was, every creak in the wood and the snores of Vernon from upstairs. He pushed it aside, and focused on the matter at hand: finding out who the girl was. 

'Hello?'

Nothing changed, Vernon was still snoring upstairs, his body still ached, and he was still locked in the cupboard, all alone and-

'Oh! You responded! I didn't think you could, at first.'

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth was open in shock.

'My name is Ciara, by the way. What's your?'

Harry swallowed thickly, 'Harry. My names Harry.'

'Nice to meet you Harry. Do you want to be friends?'

'...yeah... I'd like that a lot.'

'Ciara?' Harry asked, breaking the silence that had set between them. They were both lying on their backs and watching the clouds float across the sky. It was peaceful.

They need peace.

'Hmm?'

'I'm glad you're my friend.'

She looked over at him and smiled, 'I'm glad you're my friend too.'

They went back to watching the clouds.

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