First Place - Angst

"Wake up Harry!" Ron's voice demanded.

Harry blinked and opened his eyes. Ron was dressed in practice quidditch robes and had his broom in one hand and Harry's in the other.

"Bloody hell Ron," Harry grumbled and rolled over. "It's too early."

Harry buried his face in his pillow and tried to go back to sleep. He heard the hex from Ron and was awake as he could be at the hour and deflecting it out of instinct. Ron spluttered as icy water drenched him from head to toe. Harry laughed, but Ron had succeeded in waking him, even if it wasn't in the desired manner.

"Just get dressed," Ron ordered crossly and cast a drying and warming charm on himself.

"Yes sir Captain sir," Harry saluted mockingly and Ron turned bright red and left the room.

In their practice quidditch robes, the old team robes, the team stumbled down to the pitch. They were only one player short, and they had a full roster of backup players. Katie's chaser position would need to be filled, and the backup players selected the previous year had a distinct advantage in the tryouts. Chances were one of them would get selected and a new player would join the backup team, unless there was a particularly talented second year.

They gathered in the locker room and Harry began conjuring coffee for anyone who wanted it. He had finished his first cup before Ron began talking and was on his second by the time Ron was warmed up.

"I have some new tactics this year," Ron said enthusiastically with Ginny at his side, looking slightly less eager to be awake at that hour. She was nursing her own cup of coffee. "We'll practice earlier, longer, and harder."

"Okay Oliver," Harry mumbled, remembering an almost identical speech from his second year on the team and saluting Ron again.

Ron flushed and lost his train of thought. He looked back to his diagrams, complete with moving squiggles of various colors.

"Well, you all get the idea," Ron said with a little less force. Harry wondered if the twins had put him up to that. They were going to pay if they did. "Let's get out there and get warmed up."

"Finally," Harry heard the whispered comment behind him and chuckled.

He downed the rest of his coffee and banished the cups, getting a couple of complaints in the process to which he snapped, "You can't drink while you fly!" Harry caught up with Ron and slapped him on the back, "Excited much Captain?"

"Yeah," Ron mumbled. "Sorry 'bout that."

Harry just laughed, "Don't think about it. It's your job to be a slave driver. I swear you were the reincarnation of Wood a few minutes ago though."

"Really?" Ron looked very pleased by the comment.

Harry mounted his broom and laughed as he took off. He circled around and pulled in next to Ron, "Really Ron. He did the exact same thing five years ago, his second year as captain. He also missed most of his first game as keeper by the way. He took a bludger to the head a few minutes in."

Ron just blinked at Harry as though that was impossible, but Harry flew off. Ginny was still on the ground, standing by the box containing the quidditch balls. She kicked it open, opened the compartment with the snitch and let it go, released the bludgers, took the quaffle in hand and mounted her broom. Moments later a full practice game between the two teams was in progress, though one of them was short a chaser.

Harry wasn't paying attention to the game though. The instant Ginny had held up the snitch Harry had set his concentration on the tiny golden ball... and it began to glow. His consciousness followed the snitch everywhere it went. It was behind the Ravenclaw section in the stands, and Harry could still see it.

He tried flying around, but his mind was continually drawn to the ball.

He tried turning off his concentration. He focused on the bludgers instead.

The lethal black balls also began to glow, and Harry was tracking them in addition to the snitch. Harry soured high above the game and closed his eyes. He took deep breaths in and out... in and out... in and out. When he opened his eyes he forced himself to block the magic of the snitch and the bludgers, and the glows were gone.

Harry did some tricky flying, diving and pulling up at last moment, twisting and turning, rolling and spiraling. He weaved amongst the chasers and beaters and foiled a few plays. The instant he began searching for the snitch though, the glow was back.

"Fuck," Harry cursed his fortune. There was always something.

Fuming, Harry dove straight for the ground. He dismounted his broom and resisted the temptation to blast in to splinters. The broom had done nothing wrong and it had been a gift from his father... his first gift from his father. Instead Harry just cursed vocally, enough so that McGonagall would be blushing bright red if she heard the words streaming from his mouth, though she probably wouldn't fully understand half of them as they were in multiple languages.

"Um Harry?" Ron said from several feet away.

"What?" Harry snapped. He then realized that they were all staring at him. He was emitting wave after wave of uncontrolled magic. Harry closed his eyes and calmed himself forcefully. He pulled in the magic, got himself under control, but the anger was still burning. He looked up at his best friend, "The snitch is just behind the staff box and headed up. It's cresting the box and turning towards the field."

Harry wasn't facing the area the snitch was in. Ron just looked at him in awe. Harry mounted his broom and immediately headed directly towards the snitch. He didn't slow down as he caught it and turned back towards the ground. He dismounted and handed the struggling ball to Ron.

"It's not gold by the way," Harry forced a bitter laugh. "It's green."

Harry looked down and dropped his broom. He walked back towards the castle, praying that none of them would follow, and headed towards McGonagall's office. Once there he knocked on her door. He waited several minutes and knocked again... hard.

She answered the door in a dressing gown over a long nightgown and slippers, "Is there a problem on the field Harry?"

"I've come to officially resign from the Gryffindor Quidditch Team Ma'am," Harry said as calmly, formally, and emotionless as he could manage.

McGonagall just stared for a moment, as though she didn't believe what her ears told her she heard, "Come in Harry."

Harry shook his head, "I'd rather not just now."

"May I ask why?" McGonagall was concerned, more so than Harry had ever felt from her before. It was threatening to break through his barriers and he would not break down in front of her.

"I can sense the snitch," Harry said plainly. "I have an unfair advantage over the other players. No one would even have a chance Ma'am."

Harry suspected she understood then, knew that he was trying to distance himself with the formality, knew that he was just moments away from either tears or rage.

She nodded slowly, "I am sorry Harry. Do you want Severus?"

Harry shook his head. There was nothing anyone could say to lighten the blow. At least in his fifth year the choice had been taken from him. This was harder, exponentially harder than it had been when Umbridge banned him. He had to voluntarily give up the thing that made him happiest at the school.

"Would you like a lesson?" McGonagall offered.

It was considerate of her, to offer a distraction, but he couldn't concentrate on trying to transform just then. He shook his head, gave her an apologetic look, and walked away. She didn't call after him, and he didn't hear her door close until he turned a corner and headed up a flight of stairs.

In years past he never understood that his Head of House was there for him if he needed her and he regretted that now. She was not nearly as cold and stern as she normally seemed. She could unbend when she wanted to, could be caring and compassionate, and almost like a mother.

Harry went to the only place in the castle he knew he could blow off steam and not cause major damage. At the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy he paced back and forth.

"I need a room that is safe, a room where I can let go, a room where I won't hurt anyone," Harry repeated it to himself three times as he walked, doubling back, and again. He pictured what he wanted.

A door appeared in the wall, a smooth, sleek door made of some strong wood, polished to a high shine. Harry walked towards the door and it opened on its own accord, as there was no handle. Inside the Room of Requirement Harry found himself trapped in a very thick glass box, with an enormous amount of space outside his cage.

Harry dropped his barriers, every one of them, and fell to his knees. He cried out, an inarticulate, primal scream of frustration and anger. He let out his rage, his guilt, his regrets. Every problem he had with his life came to his mind. He thought of his bottled up anger with the headmaster and his abuse from the Dursleys. He thought of all the deaths he saw and the deaths yet to come that haunted his dreams. Charlie came to his mind and he slammed a fist to the ground. His still awkward relationship with his father drew another pounding fist.

It all built up and Harry could feel the magic swirling in the air inside the box. He could see the threads of his magic glowing more strongly than they had ever appeared to him before, almost blinding in their intensity. His nodes shone and sent out continuous magical energy. It wrapped around him, cuddled him, lifted him back onto his feet.

All of his sacrifices, including the childhood he never had, flashed through his mind, along with sacrifices he had not yet made and the knowledge that it was far from over. It was enough at that point and his magic surged out from him along with a final raw scream.

The shatter of the glass was like nothing Harry had ever heard before. It was cathartic and almost deafening. The shards of glass all flew away from him, none of them cutting him as they sped away with the speed of a bullet from a muggle gun. The sound ended almost as soon as it had begun. There were no more eddies of magical energy, his build up spent.

Released, Harry fell back to the floor like a rag doll. He braced himself with his hands and breathed deeply, trying to get himself under control. Harry was emotionless, having used up everything he had. His hair hung in damp tendrils in his face. He wanted to just go to sleep and forget everything. If he asked for it the room would give him a bed, a place to hide from the world, but Harry knew he couldn't.

He got up and walked out of the Room of Requirement, half expecting the entire staff along with the Gryffindor Quidditch Team to be waiting anxiously on the other side. There was no one there, though. He walked through the empty halls, most of the castle still asleep. Harry let his feet take him back towards Gryffindor Tower but stopped shy of the entrance. That wasn't where he wanted to be.

Everything glowed with magic. Every stone of the school was soaked in magic from the builders and from the every student and professor who had ever walked the halls. The hidden entrances to passages were glaringly obvious to his eyes at that moment, and Harry didn't bother shielding himself. Everything about him was wide open. He could feel the Houses stirring, the emotions of the students changing from the vagueness of sleep to the varying types of waking.

Harry turned around and weaved though the halls. None of the staircases changed and dumped him in a hall he didn't want to be in. He went to a door that most of the students weren't aware was a door. After all, it was just another statue like the one that led to Dumbledore's office.

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," Harry said quietly, positive that Malfoy had cursed a blue streak when Hermione picked the password that would stick for the month. He entered the common room shared by the Head Boy and Girl, in hopes that they would work together more, and barely acknowledged Malfoy.

"Potter you look like shit," Malfoy observed. Harry felt a mixture of concern and disdain. Old feelings died hard. Malfoy glowed as well, his magic showing potential for quite a bit of power, similar to Harry's father.

"Nice to see you too Malfoy," Harry managed to get out as he started knocking on Hermione's door.

It swung open to reveal an irritated Hermione in a bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her head. She looked like she was stopped mid-rant when she saw Harry standing there. She quickly ushered him in and closed the door with a wave to Malfoy. Hermione was bright, brighter than Malfoy or Snape, but not nearly as bright as Harry.

"Harry what's wrong?" Hermione directed him to her bed, where he curled up on top of her duvet, and she sat beside him. "Shouldn't you be at practice?"

"I quit," Harry said, his voice sounded dead even to him.

He could feel the emotions speed through his other best friend at an astonishing rate. He wondered if that was what her thoughts were like, if that was what it was like to be in her brain. With the way he was receiving everything he didn't dare look her in the eye and he shied away from touch.

"Is that the only thing bothering you?" Hermione asked softly. She was upset herself, hurt because he was so obviously hurting.

"It was just too much 'Mione," Harry explained with his voice muffled slightly by the duvet. "It was like the single crack that makes the whole building fall down. I'm tired 'Mione, can I sleep here?"

Harry started rebuilding his walls, his barriers that protected him from the world. It had felt so good to be free of them if only for a few minutes, but frightening and oppressive as well. He had been flooded with sensations, but he had been able to handle it all, to see it and feel it. If he had been in the great hall during a meal it probably would have driven him mad, but with the castle so quiet it had been amazing.

A kiss brushed his forehead as Harry slipped into blackness. He was vaguely aware of spells being performed around him. He was lifted and tucked under the covers of the bed, a pillow placed beneath his head. Harry burrowed into the softness and his last thought was to wonder why her room smelled so much nicer than his.

"He's sleeping in your bed!" Ron's voice was full of hurt.

Harry guessed that quidditch practice was over and Ron had tracked him down. He wondered how long it had taken.

"Grow up Ron!" Hermione countered as quietly as she could while still scolding. It created an interesting tone. "He came in here looking worse than I've ever seen him, well, while conscious that is. Don't you remember how he felt when Umbridge banned him from playing?"

"Of course I do!" Ron was offended now.

"Then use your brain!" Hermione hissed. "This time he was forced to quit on his own, to give up something he loved when he's already lost so much. For your information he fell asleep on top of my duvet. I tucked him in."

"I'm sorry 'Mione, it's just...," Ron defending himself and apologized all in one.

"I know Ron," Hermione was frayed. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not interested in being with anyone except you."

Harry stirred before things got to the stage where it would be too embarrassing for all three of them for him to wake up, "Yeah Ron, I'm screwing your brother, not your girlfriend. Me and Hermione would be like... like you and Ginny."

"Ew, ew, ew... Harry how could you even say that?" Ron's disgust was so strong that Harry almost felt ill himself.

Harry strengthened the barriers that he had reconstructed after his outburst, thankful he did so when Hermione's hand brushed through his hair, "Why does everyone do that?"

"Huh?" Hermione absently straightened the covers.

Harry sat up and cracked his neck. He messed up his hair with both hands so it was sticking out at even more angles than usual, "You, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Poppy, Dad, Charlie. You all feel this incredible need to fix my hair. It's a lost cause."

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione and Harry both ignored Ron, who was gagging exaggeratedly in the corner.

Harry nodded, "Thanks for the bed. I couldn't go back to the Tower, and I didn't want Dad freaking."

"So that's it?" Ron rejoined the conversation. "You're sure?"

"Yeah Ron," Harry's heart wrenched again. "It wouldn't be fair if I played."

"Well I'm not giving you up completely," Ron declared loudly.

Harry raised his eyebrows and Hermione did as well, "I can't play."

"You can still fly with us in practice," Ron said insistently. "I need someone to train a new seeker if you can't play, and you'll do it much better than I will."

"I don't know...," the thought of flying with the team but not playing in the games wasn't really any better than quitting altogether.

"Please Harry?" Ron asked, not an ounce of pity in him. "I need you. We need you."

Harry nodded agreement and his head dropped. Ron flopped onto the bed next to him and thumped his back. Hermione sat with much more grace and shook her head at them.

Harry took a deep breath, and wrinkled up his nose, "Ugh Ron, couldn't you at least have showered first?"

A pillow hit Harry square in the face and he looked at Ron's grinning face in astonishment. Harry had heard the words 'pillow fight' before but had never seen or been involved in a practical display of them. He picked up the basic idea pretty quickly though and swung the pillow from behind him around into Ron's head. Ron responded in kind but Harry ducked and Hermione got a corner of the pillow across her arm.

Her glare almost stopped the fight right there, but she raised her wand and two pillows flumped directly onto the boys' faces. They both grinned and soon pillows were flying through the air and the three of them were shrieking and laughing. Feathers burst out of the pillows and floated around the room.

"What are the three of you doing?" Malfoy's voice cut through the laughter.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry were on the floor, laughing so hard they could just barely swing their pillows at each other. All three of them had small white feathers in their hair and on their clothes. The room looked as though a light snowfall had dusted it.

"What does it look like Malfoy?" Ron said as though the Slytherin was a complete idiot. He grinned. "We're having a tea party."

"You are certifiably insane," Malfoy looked down at them with a mild sneer, "all three of you."

The three of them exchanged looks and then said in sickly sweet unison, "We love you too Draco!"

Blond eyebrows arched elegantly as a feather floated to rest on the shoulder of immaculate black robes. Malfoy brushed it off and left the room, letting the door shut on its own behind him and muttering about 'ridiculous Gryffindors'.

With Malfoy gone Harry cleaned the room by waving his hand a few times, "Don't want to make extra work for the house elves."

"I made an agreement with them," Hermione announced proudly. "They are not responsible for cleaning this room and I won't try to free them from Hogwarts."

Harry raised his eyebrows, much as Malfoy had, and clapped his hands, "Bravo Hermione. I'm impressed."

She just grinned and thanked him for cleaning up the feathers. They ate breakfast, conjured by Harry and Hermione, in the Head Girl's room. Following the meal Harry left to give them time to themselves, making sure to warn Mafloy on his way out. He went to his room and wrote a note to his father, calling Hedwig to deliver it, and then gathered his books, some parchment and quills, and headed towards the library to get started on his homework.

Finding the Key - Chapter 20

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