All the Theory in the Plane

Cedric hurled another ball at Ron, who had a feeling he'd intentionally thrown it too low. Ron dipped his broom and shot earthward, knocking the ball away with his body. Cedric threw the next ball well above Ron's head. Ron spun around, but couldn't kill his momentum fast enough. The ball soared above his head, right through the trees they were using as goal posts.

"The only shot you should ever block like that is the last one," Cedric said. "Otherwise, they'll recover the Quaffle and–"

"I noticed!" Ron snapped. He looked down when he spotted movement. Sally-Anne tossed the ball back to Cedric. Ron caught her gaze for just a moment, then looked back to Cedric.

"Sorry. Anything else?"

"Honestly, I doubt you need this. Go in trying as hard as you are now, and you'll be the best flier there. Most people won't keep using their bodies to block."

Ron laughed. "Well, when you hang out with Rose, you get used to having things thrown at you."

Cedric chuckled. "That'll play to your advantage. Some Keepers get scared and run off when they see Chasers moving in or a Bludger coming. Ravenclaw's especially competitive about it. You'll want to watch for them."

Ron nodded. "Thanks for the tip."

They practiced for another half an hour before calling it quits. The boys circled to the ground where Sally-Anne awaited them with a smile on her face.

"I'm glad things are going well."

"Thanks for setting this up, I guess," Ron said.

"One last thing," Cedric said. "I know it's none of my business, but I've noticed that you and Hermione are avoiding each other."

"No, it's not your business!"

Ron was in no mood for advice or sympathy from anyone, least of all Cedric. Sally-Anne might've convinced him to practice with Cedric, but he wasn't about to listen to him. Ron spun around and slammed right into a shimmering disc.

You think I'd be used to running into those things by now, he thought as the shield vanished and its mistress approached him.

"Give him a chance, Ron. Please."

Ron turned and looked at Sally-Anne's pleading eyes. He appreciated that she wasn't guilting him into accepting help like his mum, or forcing it on him as he'd expected her to. She was asking him to accept help, and knowing her, it would be worth it.

"Fine." Ron folded his arms and slowly turned back towards Cedric. "What is it?"

Beside him, Sally-Anne smiled at him. Ron didn't know why, but he found her oddly distracting.

"Like I said, it's none of my business, but if it will throw you off your game, Slytherin's going to make it their business."

Ron took a moment to let Cedric's words sink in. He knew it was over between him and Hermione, but he couldn't stop himself from looking at her at meals, or looking for her in the common room. Ron found himself longing to be with her, and jumped at any opportunity to see her. The days with Hermione were bittersweet, and he wanted desperately to return to them, although part of him knew he never could.

Ron nodded at Cedric, whom he noticed was waiting for a response. "Thanks for the warning."

"Good luck tomorrow," Cedric said. He casually turned and walked out of the courtyard, reminding Ron a little of Charlie with how relaxed he was.

"Thanks," Ron called after him.

He and Sally-Anne watched Cedric leave, then Ron turned to Sally-Anne. "Well, you've managed to get me all to yourself."

Sally-Anne giggled, covering her mouth with one of her hands. "Yes, I thought I'd get a head start on lecturing you while we make our rounds." She patted her shoulder, then laughed again. "Well, I forgot my pack. You?"

Ron glanced at the broom in his hand, then smiled at her. "Nope. Fancy an evening walk up a moving staircase?"

He offered her his arm, doing his best impression of Charlie. He'd practiced being "smooth" all summer, and he didn't want to waste the effort.

Sally-Anne laughed again, her face turning so red that she had to look away to contain herself. "I promise I'm not laughing at you," she said before she'd recovered. "Promise, it's just great to see you're feeling somewhat better."

Ron smiled at her, happy someone appreciated his hard work. "Are you going to or not?"

Sally-Anne moved her hands from her head to her waist as if dropping something on the floor. She kept her eyes shut until the smile faded from her face.

"As much as I'd love to, I can't for two reasons. First, while I know you're just having a bit of fun, not everyone else will. And second… I don't want you replacing Hermione with me."

Ron frowned and dropped his arm. "That's mad! I'm not–"

"I don't think you're trying to, but I think you're still hurting over her." Sally-Anne's perfect smile was completely gone, and her eyes took on the faintest traces of sadness. "Dad says sometimes when people hurt like that, they try to take it away however they can."

Ron felt an emptiness in his chest, much like he'd felt at the ball after he'd made Hermione run off crying. He just wanted to lie down and not get back up.

"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry."

Sally-Anne reached out and hugged him, and for a moment, some of the pain went away. Ron couldn't find the energy to hug her back, but he stood and enjoyed the quick escape from his troubles.

"She shouldn't have shut you out like that. After everything you did for her, you deserve so much better."

Ron snapped out of his stupor and pulled away from Sally-Anne. "I'm fine."

She looked back at him, and he had the strangest feeling that she was trying to steal some of his pain for herself. Her eyes were so sad, but it felt as if it would all vanish once he did.

Sally-Anne was such an odd person.

"You're weird," Ron said.

Sally-Anne let out an involuntary laugh. "Thank you. I do try." She looked around the empty courtyard. "It'll be time for supper soon, so we should get going."

Hermione and Harry sat through Potions on Friday, with Hermione running through her proposal every few minutes until she had it perfect. She knew what she wanted to say; she just hoped Professor Snape would agree. If he didn't, they'd need a backup plan, which they didn't have, and he wasn't exactly known for his kindness towards Gryffindor.

Hermione's heat skipped a beat when class finished. It was the moment she'd been dreading for hours, but she held fast. She met up with Harry, and they approached Snape.

"This is a bad idea," Harry muttered.

"Too bad." Hermione smiled, although it occurred to her that that was a mistake after she spoke. "Professor Snape?"

"Peta-Lorrum, I'm–" Snape glowered at his desk for an awkward moment, then turned his anger at them. "What do you want, Granger?"

Hermione found herself caught off guard by Snape's outburst, but she quickly recovered. "We'd like you to teach us defence."

Hermione listened to her heartbeat, which was easily louder than anything else in the room. While anxious for Snape's reply, she refused to allow herself to believe it was a bad idea.

"Why?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"You apply for the post every year. You're the most qualified person in Hogwarts to teach the subject."

"You've got a teacher." Snape looked down at his notes, apparently assuming they'd leave if he ignored them.

Harry let out a quick laugh, and Hermione shot him a glare.

"Umbridge refuses to teach us any practical defence," Hermione explained. "Rose used to say all the theory in the plane is useless without experience."

Snape turned his glare back on them. He focused on Harry for a moment, then looked back to Hermione. "What makes you think I'm qualified? Perhaps there's a reason I've been denied the post."

Hermione realized she had no answer to that. She'd just assumed he'd be good at it. Perhaps Harry was right; one of the other professors would be better.

"Didn't you used to be a Death Eater?" Harry said, loud enough that Hermione glanced back to make sure no one was around to hear. "That's got to be more 'practical experience' than anyone in school!"

Hermione simultaneously cursed and praised Harry. She didn't condone his delivery, but couldn't argue with him, a sentiment she immediately expressed to Professor Snape.

"Neither of you has an issue learning from me?" Snape asked.

"Rose liked you, so no," Hermione said before Harry could undo his own efforts.

Snape gave them another analytical glare, then said, "Sunday, three o'clock, my office. If either of you are late, the lessons end. Now go away."

Hermione smiled a little too broadly. "Thank you, professor."

"If you can't understand a concept as simple as 'go away', perhaps we should end now."

Hermione and Harry grabbed their packs and left the room without another word.

Ron walked with Sally-Anne to the Pitch that afternoon. His hands were clammy, and butterflies filled his stomach. He tried swallowing, but his mouth was too dry. He shifted his broom around in his hands, then looked back to see if anyone was behind him.

"It's alright," Sally-Anne said. Her voice was smooth and calm, bringing some comfort with it. "No need to be so nervous."

Ron tried to smile at her, but he couldn't manage a real smile. All he got was a smile even he knew was fake.

"Easy for you to say," he said, his voice hoarse. "You're not the one trying out for the team."

"Even better, you are." She smiled at him with her perfect smile. "And you're going to make it. Cedric said you're the best Gryffindor's got, and I know he's right. Remember, I had to assess everyone last year." She frowned for a moment, but her smile returned quickly. "Again, don't tell anyone about that. I don't need them knowing."

Ron nodded. He'd been annoyed that Sally-Anne hadn't put him on the team at first, but he wasn't anymore. After all, she'd only been allowed one member of Gryffindor, and Harry was the obvious choice.

"If I'd had a second pick… actually, to be honest, it'd have been Angelina, but you were up there."

Ron found it easier to smile at that. He stood up a little straighter, his confidence slowly returning.

"Remember, do your best, then you won't be disappointed." Sally-Anne smiled again when they reached the pitch. "Be sure of yourself, and show them nothing less than your best."

"You just said that."

"Just making sure you're still paying attention." She glanced around, then kissed him on the cheek. "For good luck. I'll be there to cheer you on."

Sally-Anne walked off and took a seat in the stands. Ron walked into the Pitch and took his place with the other hopefuls.

Angelina stood in front of them, and behind her stood the rest of the team. Harry frowned when he saw Ron. Ron saw him glance behind him, and, judging by the smile he gave Ron, Sally-Anne had given him her standard death glare.

"Alright, here's how this goes!" Angelina barked. "Each of you will take the goal, and we'll try to score on you for five minutes. The longer you last, the better your chances are of making the team. When you block the Quaffle, you will immediately pass it to one of us. It doesn't matter to whom, so don't hold it." She pointed at Seamus, who was at the other end of the line from Ron. "Finnigan, we'll start with you."

Seamus gulped nervously, then stepped forward and took to the air. The other players joined him, with Harry flying well above the others.

They haven't got a Snitch, so what's he doing? Ron wondered.

He squinted to see Harry, then saw a small object in his hand.

Of course. He's timing.

Angelina tossed the Quaffle to Katie, then shouted "BEGIN!"

Katie flew at Seamus, on a direct line for one of the goal posts. Seamus dipped down and knocked the Quaffle away when Katie tried to score.

No, you want to keep control of it.

Alicia darted towards the Quaffle. She grabbed it and tossed it into the post to Seamus's right before he even realized what was happening.

Some of the other contestants snickered at Seamus's mistake. Ron glared at them, and he caught Sally-Anne doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

"Potter?" Angelina called.

"Ten seconds!"

"Alright!" Angelina pointed to another student and called them up. They went down the line, which put Ron as the last candidate. Some did well, others didn't block a single shot. The ones that did well were smug or excited about it. The ones that did poorly were sad or angry. Ron tried cheering up the first few, but gave up after he got nothing from them.

He glanced back at Sally-Anne, wondering how she managed it. She was watching the tryouts, but smiled at him when she saw him looking at her.

Almost, she mouthed.

He smiled at her, hoping he looked better than he felt. The best time so far was a minute, nineteen seconds, set by Alex's cousin, Jonathon. After watching people fail after five seconds, Ron was nervous. Eighty seconds was a long time when you were fending off an assault from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, along with the occasional Bludger from Fred and George.

"Weasley!"

"What?" the Twins called in unison.

With one last glance at Sally-Anne for good luck, Ron took to the air. No sooner had he reached the goal post, than Alicia hurtled towards him, albeit without the Quaffle.

They're faking me out. If I go for her, Katie throws it in. If I don't, she passes to Alicia so she can score.

Ron kept his eyes trained on the Quaffle. He drifted to his right, cutting off Katie and Alicia. With a direct line of sight to Katie, he could see her eyes weren't following him; they were following something else that seemed to be circling around the posts.

Not easing up for a second, then, Ron thought.

Katie drew back her arm, but Ron didn't move. Katie handed it off to Alicia as she flew by. Alicia tried tossing it into the middle post as she flew past Katie.

Using Katie's eyes as a guide, Ron was already on his way to the middle post. He intercepted the Quaffle, then tossed it back to Angelina as Sally-Anne cheered.

Katie and Alicia made another attempt to score, tossing the Quaffle between them the second time. Ron stayed focused on the Quaffle, waited until just after one of them threw it to the other, then grabbed it from between the two of them. He circled back around the posts before handing it off to Angelina so they could begin again.

They came at him from every angle, but it was still chess, and he knew every play. He'd watched loads of practices with Harry, and Sally-Anne had told him all about the practices the previous year. Unfortunately, like his practices with Cedric, he was getting tired. He noticed Angelina whisper something to Harry, something he'd seen them doing at least once before. How long had it been? It must've been long enough, right?

All three Chasers came at him, flying around one another, tossing the Quaffle back and forth. The only way to stop it was to have another Chaser run interference while another grabbed the Quaffle. But Ron wasn't about to give up. Without taking his eyes off the Quaffle, he flew straight at Angelina when she got the Quaffle. He stayed focused on her, ignoring her smirk. She hurled the Quaffle to his left, straight at one of the goal posts. He didn't have a chance at banking; he'd needed to come in too fast in order to fake her out.

It's called feinting, Cohort.

I know, Rose, he told the imaginary Rose that lived inside his head. I haven't forgotten this tactic either.

Ron hopped up on his broom, spun around to face the Quaffle, and leapt off. He grabbed the Quaffle, then slammed into the goal post, successfully blocking the shot.

Win.

He felt the familiar feeling of plummeting towards the ground, but unlike last time, he had feather fall. Unless he'd forgotten to put the ring on that morning.

Well, we're about to find out.

A few feet above the ground, a hand shot out and grabbed him.

"I believe that's my trick," Harry said as he lowered Ron to the ground.

"Jefferson Zane."

"What?" Harry asked.

"He won the 1966 World Cup by jumping off his broom to catch the Snitch. Technically, it's his trick."

Ron and Harry laughed as the rest of the team joined them.

"Told him his time yet?" Angelina asked Harry.

"Not yet, Captain Johnson, sir!" he barked.

Angelina rolled her eyes, and muttered something Ron couldn't make out. "Go on, then."

Harry looked at the watch in his hand. "Stopping at the time I dove for you, nine minutes, fourteen seconds."

"Ron!"

Sally-Anne nearly knocked him over with her hug.

"Don't do that!" she exclaimed. "Do you know how scared I was?"

"Feather fall," Ron and Harry said.

"I don't care if you can fly without a broom!" she shot back. "I hate this game! It's reckless, and stupid, and someone's going to get hurt if you keep that!"

"He made the team," Harry said. "Best time by a long shot."

"Congratulations!" Sally-Anne exclaimed, her tone once again making a complete shift. "I knew you could do it."

Sunday morning, Neville took a seat at the Ravenclaw table across from Luna. At least, across from a copy of the Quibbler with Luna's body.

"Good morning, Moon," he said. "Did you sleep alright?"

She looked up from the Quibbler, and he saw her face for the first time. Her eyes were faintly pink, and her smile was sad.

She's been crying again.

"I did, thank you." She broadened her fake smile. "What about you?"

Neville thought back to his dream, inspired, he was sure, by something Rose had told him. In it, he'd fought against Rose, trying to snap her out of some frenzy. Then Valignatiejir would appear, and they'd fight him. It was such a strange dream, but Neville didn't care. He got to see Rose again, and give that dragon what it deserved.

"Alright." He glanced back at his friends at Gryffindor. "It might just be us for Hogsmeade today. Hermione's got detention, although I don't know why on a Sunday. Harry wanted to wait with her, so he's gone. Sally-Anne and Ron are doing prefect things, and Ginny said she's going with someone, so it's just us."

Luna's smile faded from her face. A shadow fell over her, and she broke eye contact with Neville.

"I'm not going. I'd rather stay here."

Neville's first instinct was to let her be, but then he thought about Rose. He remembered how she'd glare at anyone that laughed at Luna.

Take care of my sister, Rose would say.

"I'm not letting my best friend's little sister stay here and sulk," Neville said. "We're gonna go to Hogsmeade, and for her sake, we're gonna have fun. Cos if there's one thing Rose would want us to do, it's have fun."

Luna slowly looked up at him, and her crooked smile returned to her face.

"Only if Tutela can come."

"Of course she can." He laughed at the faint bark he heard.

Don't worry about Little Moon, Rose. I'll take care of her for you.

Neville nodded at the Quibbler. "What's it about?"

Luna looked left, then right, then leaned in so close that Neville could hear her breathing.

Neville simply tapped his ear.

Luna turned a faint shade of pink, then activated her own earpods.

"Vampires. We think Fudge has been replaced by one."

Luna spent the next few minutes laying out their arguments while Neville chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bacon.

"Really? No one's seen him outside since last June?"

"Since the night of the Third Task."

Neville took a bite of a maple scone, pondering Luna's theory.

This calls for an investigation! Everyone, prep your perception checks!

"I think we should investigate," Neville said.

"What about Hogsmeade?"

"Forget about Hogsmeade. People are disappearing at night, and Fudge won't leave his office during the day. Of course he doesn't want people poking around." Neville grinned at Luna. "Let's go solve the mystery of the Minister Who's Afraid of the Sun."

As they finished their breakfast, Neville and Luna pondered ways of finding out what Fudge was doing all day. Near the end of breakfast, Neville realized they had a witness right there in Hogwarts.

"I don't think we can just ask her when the last time she saw Fudge out and about during the day was," Neville said.

"Why not?" Luna asked.

Neville laughed for a moment, then straightened up when he realized that she was serious.

"It… erm…" He stopped for a moment to suppress the sudden feeling of butterflies in his stomach. "We can't because…"

"Right. She might be in on it too." Luna's eyes went wide, although her normally wide-eyed stare made it hard to tell. "What if she's a vampire too?"

Neville looked up at Umbridge. She didn't look like a vampire, but she could've been using magic to disguise herself. What were the ways to identify vampires again?

You should know this, Toad, Rose's voice said.

He turned back to Luna to find her writing in a notebook. Her eyes didn't so much as wander away from her work for a second.

"What are you doing?"

Luna gave no response, not even an acknowledgment that she'd heard him.

"Luna?"

Still no reaction from Luna. Like a loyal house-elf following orders, she remained focused on her work, blocking out everything else.

"What's Luna doing?" Melody asked.

Neville shrugged. "She just started writing in her notebook. She hasn't spoken in a few minutes." Neville watched Luna, waiting for her to finish. After another few minutes, he gave up and turned to Melody. "How was your summer?"

"Good, I guess," Melody glanced over at the Gryffindor table. "A little confusing. Did… erm…"

"What is it?"

"You knew Rose, right?"

Neville's face fell, but he carried on talking. "She was the best friend I've ever had."

"Is it… is it true what they're saying? That she… committed suicide?"

Neville glared at his empty plate as if it'd murdered his friends and family. "No, it isn't. Rose wasn't mad; she just found it easier for people to think she was. People don't take you seriously if they think you're mad, so she could catch them off guard."

"That's what I thought!" Melody exclaimed, looking as if she were pleading for forgiveness. "But then the Daily Prophet said she had, and it was calling Professor Dumbledore a liar, but Rose was always so nice, but then Mummy said some mad people just were, and even Daddy agreed, and–"

"Calm down, Melody," Neville said, putting a hand on her shoulder in his best imitation of Alavel. "It's… it's alright. Let's talk about something else. You just started third year, right? What classes are you taking?"

"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. I wanted to take Care for Magical Creatures, but Mummy said it'd be a waste of time, just like Divination."

Neville shrugged. "Divination's got its moments, but there aren't a lot of them."

"Then Daddy said Muggles weren't worth studying, so that just left Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

Neville scowled, glanced at his own table, then returned his gaze to Melody. "First off, Muggles are amazing." He held up the watch Hermione had given him the previous year. "This is just clockwork, no magic, but I'd have died ten times over last year without it."

Melody frowned. "It's… it's just a watch."

Neville pushed the button on the side, and the top popped open to reveal the compass underneath. "It's also a compass. Possibly the best thing every invented."

Melody nodded, not understanding why Neville thought it was so great. He started to try explaining, but stopped when he realized he couldn't tell her that he'd spent so much time in the Forbidden Forest.

"Care's probably my third favorite class, and easily the best of the lot we start taking in third year." He turned to Luna, who was still scribbling away in her notebook. "Right, Luna?"

No response.

"She'd agree if she could hear me. It's her favorite class."