Harry Potter's revenge.

"Harry, Snape is the hospital wing."

He was, wasn't he? Harry glanced up at his twin to see the bucking and shaking getting worse. Whatever the teacher's should be doing to stop this clearly wasn't working. He looked around the quidditch pitch and noticed that many of the students had taken their wands out. Some held them uncertainly, some with purpose, and many with furtive glances at those around them, starting to point them towards his hated twin. There was a certain… inevitability in the air and an evil thought flashed through Harry's mind.

Harry grinned and turned to Hermione, a wild gleam in his eye. "Okay, we have to save him!" He turned to Pansy. "Pass the word along, Arresto Momentum when he falls!"

Pansy stared. "Why would we want to save—"

He laughed. "—I know it's a weak spell at this range, but if we ALL cast it, we can do it!"

Pansy looked at him like he was insane. Then realisation seemed to dawn across her face. Her eyes lit up. "Got it!" She turned away.

Harry turned back to Hermione and fingered his holly and phoenix feather wand. "Get ready!"

Hermione firmed her jaw and aimed her wand at John, her face a picture of determined concentration.

John's broom bucked and shook. Moments later, it gave a sad little *putt* sound, and John Potter fell out of the sky. Two hundred voices shrieked as he hurtled to the ground, while the other two hundred, dressed in every Hogwarts house colour, all across the stadium, all pointed their wands at him, and yelled a deafening cacophony of wingardium leviosa, accio Potter, arresto momentum, and mobilicorpus.

The spells raced towards the falling seeker, and John Potter's plummet instantly halted a whole thirty feet above the ground, with all the suddenness and consequences of an owl flying into a wall.

Hermione stood to attention in front of the hospital bed, along side her fellow healer trainees.

On the bed, John Potter lay under a petrificus totalus to stop him moving and damaging the few remaining unbroken bones in his body. That didn't seem to stop him moaning though.

Healer Pomfrey made another jab with her wand and yet another bone made a horrible little cracking and crinkling sound. Yet another moan issued from John Potter's throat.

The older healer tutted. "That one was a major fracture with six hairline fractures along its length."

John Potter moaned, again.

Hermione shook her head. Well, if the boy didn't want this sort of thing to happen to him, then he shouldn't be John Potter should he? He had only himself to blame.

Healer Pomfrey asked Penelope Clearwater to get her a jar of huntsman's sorrow and prepare it for application. She then pointed her wand at John's hand and made a complicated waving motion. A mess of coloured shapes and numbers appeared over it. "This one"—she motioned towards the hand—"is completely beyond the capabilities of our standard bone mending spells — so we need to use something more potent. Miss Clearwater? Any ideas?"

The Ravenclaw straightened with the half opened jar of healing herbs in her hands. "Skele-gro?"

Healer Pomfrey nodded. "Exactly." She turned to another student "Any preparations needed for skele-gro?"

The older Hufflepuff boy thought for a moment. "Vanish the bones?"

"Correct. The spell is 'ossa peribunt', It will not work on certain bones like the skull or the ribcage — such effects would be fatal but for anything else it is the only way to repair otherwise irreparable damage. It's a simple point and cast spell, needing no more than twelve inches distance."

Healer Pomfrey turned to her. "Luckily, there's not much that can go wrong with a bone vanishing. It either works or it doesn't, so would you like to get some practise, Miss Granger?"

John Potter moaned again.

Hermione smiled the smile of kneazle faced with a downed and helpless werewolf. "Happy to, Healer Pomfrey."

At about the same time, Daphne stalked down a passageway in the Slytherin dungeons, on the prowl for the Bloody Baron. In her hand, she held a note. Amazingly enough, people seemed to have gotten used to the baron as head of Slytherin house. Much like having a ghost teach history. It was now just one more eccentricity of the wizarding world.

Now, Harry, currently being courted like the last unmarried witch in the world, had given her a task, and she intended to complete it quickly and efficiently.

She'd left the rest of the Gray in the common room, who were all laughing at John Potter catching the snitch in his mouth during his fall and thereby losing Gryffindor the game. They had been forty points behind, after all.

She swept around the next corner and found herself face to back with her frightening quarry. She cleared her throat. The baron turned to face her. "Yooouuuu." His chains clinked. "Shouldn't you be with the rest of your year mates… celebrating our glorious victory over the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"

Daphne held her chin up. "Soon, I will be. I am here on behalf of my Lord Slytherin."

"Ohhhh?" His slow, low voice rasped like a creaky door. "I had wondered when he would make his presence known to me."

"My lord wishes to speak with you regarding Slytherin House matters. I have a note from him, to you." She held it up. "May I read it?"

The blood soaked ghost nodded.

"Baron Bayler," she started. "I must first extend my sorrow that I have not been able to reach out to you earlier. Alas, circumstances made it quite impossible, but this is a matter that I now hope to rectify. I also thank you for taking up the post of Head of Slytherin House and the associated troubles that go with it.

"I would like to meet you regarding general policies and procedures of my house that I feel need to be brought into consideration and another matter that only you, in your capacity both as head of Hogwarts Slytherin branch, and Hogwarts Slytherin ghost, can ameliorate.

"Yours, Lord Slytherin — Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin."

She lowered the parchment.

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