THE LIVES OF THE QUIDDITCH RICH AND FAMOUS
CHAPTER 1
"Aaaand Potter." The words hung in the air of the stadium as the last of the England team flew up to join the rest. It was the finals. Bulgaria versus England. More importantly it was the clash of the Titans. For the first time in Quidditch history Viktor Krum would be playing against Harry Potter. Who would emerge victorious? Only time would tell. Millions of eyes were trained on the two teams as they prepared for the battle. The whistle blew and the game begun.
Lee Jordan, seated in the top box geared himself for what he was quite sure was going to be a long, long game. It was the first time in decades that England had made it to the finals, and the hopes of millions centered on the seeker - Harry Potter. Not an unfounded hope either. Harry was a natural. He hadn't lost a match since his dementor crisis in his third year. But Krum was older and more experienced, and even Lee with all his implicit trust in Harry couldn't help but feel a little insecure.
As the balls were released and the referee Aidan Lynch shot into the air, Lee pointed at his throat and muttered sonorous. It was time for action. The quaffle was tossed from Davis to Carlson, back to Davis and then was intercepted by the Bulgarian chaser Turganev. The Bulgarian chasers were fast, but they were by no means as fast as the English. Before they were anywhere near the goals, the quaffle was reclaimed and the game was in full flow.
Harry hovered a few meters above the other players, his eyes focused on the game below him, darting to and fro for the sight of the snitch. He also kept a sharp eye on his opponent, Viktor Krum. He had known Krum for almost 8 years, and though off the pitch they were good friends, on it they were bitter rivals. He thought he saw a glint of gold, but whipping his head around it was just the toss of a Veela's hair. He returned to intently surveying the pitch.
The game was fast and brutal. The Beaters on both sides were whacking the Bludgers with all their might, indiscriminately smashing it at the other players. Almost half an hour had passed, and it spoke well for the skill of both teams that neither side had scored a single goal yet. Harry saw a bludger hurtle towards him and dodged with his customary grace. He knew that "Take out the seeker" was the Beaters motto, and with the help of the Weasely brothers he had honed his talents of diversion. He felt a sudden nostalgia. He wished Fred and George were on the field with him. He had tried to persuade them to play for England as he had, but stubborn iconoclasts they decided on the Irish team. He winced as he remembered the semi-finals match between Ireland and Luxembourg. 220 to 30 was not just a defeat, it was a miserable one.
A sudden shout went up from the crowd and Harry turned his head to see Krum spiral down towards the ground. Harry didn't move. He had studied Krum's actions ever since he had witnessed the first game, and he knew the expression that came over the older players face when he was feinting. True enough, Krum pulled out of the dive, and Harry could feel the relief emanate from the crowd.
The heat was growing. Even from the air, Harry could see the people biting their nails, nibbling their lips and clenching their fists. A cheer went up. The first goal of the game had been scored. Davis, Carlson and Nichols had adopted the Hawkshead Formation, and Harry had to admit that it was an unnerving experience to have three of the best players in the world come hurtling at you. The Bulgarian Keeper, Maranski had indeterminately floated for a few seconds before falling away, allowing Nichols to attack with the Reverse Pass. It was superbly done, and even a 10-0 was better than a 0-0 score.
Then the goals started coming thick and fast on either side. Perhaps the Chasers were on their mettle, or the Keepers were lax. Whatever the reason, the pace of the game accelerated tremendously. The crowd was delighted. This, after all, was what they had come to see. Lee was having the time of his life screaming out his comments, and heckling. Only Harry and Krum had nothing to do yet but wait.
Hermione, seated in the top box, looked anxiously from seeker to seeker, not sure whether to support her boyfriend or her best friend. She had been praying that they wouldn't clash, but in her heart she knew they would and now she was utterly confused. Sitting in the box with all the other wives and girlfriends, she felt very out of place. All these women were models, or actresses, or millionaires. She would have infinitely preferred sitting in the bleachers with all her friends, but that just wasn't meant to be. She thanked her stars that Mr. Weasely was there in his capacity as the English Minister of Magic and wished that the rest of the Weaselys had agreed to join him.
A sneering voice behind her forced her to turn her head. Sitting behind her, discoursing on the poor play of the England team was the bane of her life, Draco Malfoy. Almost as if he felt her watching him, he looked up. "Granger!" he hissed.
She politely inclined her head. "Malfoy. How is the work coming?"
He turned away rudely and she smiled to herself. He may have been her fellow teacher in Hogwarts, but he knew as well as she did that both in seniority and popularity she held the upper hand.
She turned her attention back to the game where both the teams were playing superbly. The score was an impressive 410 to 400, and the Bulgarians were putting in even more effort. The snitch had been sighted once, but before either seeker could even approach it, it had disappeared. But this had put both of them on their mettle and their swoops and curves would have done justice to a flying ballet.
A Bludger zoomed towards Krum and hit him violently on the shoulder. He stifled a groan, but it was obvious to the sympathetic crowd that it was agonizing, and a cry of commiseration filled the air. Harry grinned to himself as he saw even the English cheer Krum. Only a Seeker, and that too an excellent Seeker, was treated with such veneration. Krum had repeatedly proven himself to be the best. It was time to change all that.
Even as these words ran through his mind, his eyes caught the glint of gold. Twisting his head towards it, he saw that Krum hadn't noticed it yet, but the Bulgarian was even closer to it than he was and if he went for it now Krum would get to it first. Harry thought fast. He, very casually, almost elaborately casually, floated towards the snitch, praying that it would not disappear. When he was close enough he hurtled towards it. The sudden change in pace caught Krum's eye and he followed but it was too late. Perhaps Krum could have outpaced an Aidan Lynch, but Harry Potter was a different story. The light blue robes floating around him, Harry had reached the snitch just seconds before his opponent, and did what only the most skilled seeker could do. He employed the Plumpton Pass and swept the snitch into his sleeve, defeating Krum in a photo finish.
The crowd sat still in amazement for a few second, as the scoreboard winked BULGARIA: FOUR HUNDRED; IRELAND: FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY.
Lee shouted in joy, "England wins. Harry Potter has the snitch and England wins."
Slowly but surely the crowd gathered momentum and Harry Potter heard the sound he had always wanted to hear - that of crowds in a Quidditch stadium chanting one name - his own.
DISC. None of the characters are mine, and if you didn't realize that what are you doing reading fanfiction?
Please review, flame whatever. i have four more chapter ready, but because of fanfictions on and off again status I can't put them up
CHAPTER 1
"Aaaand Potter." The words hung in the air of the stadium as the last of the England team flew up to join the rest. It was the finals. Bulgaria versus England. More importantly it was the clash of the Titans. For the first time in Quidditch history Viktor Krum would be playing against Harry Potter. Who would emerge victorious? Only time would tell. Millions of eyes were trained on the two teams as they prepared for the battle. The whistle blew and the game begun.
Lee Jordan, seated in the top box geared himself for what he was quite sure was going to be a long, long game. It was the first time in decades that England had made it to the finals, and the hopes of millions centered on the seeker - Harry Potter. Not an unfounded hope either. Harry was a natural. He hadn't lost a match since his dementor crisis in his third year. But Krum was older and more experienced, and even Lee with all his implicit trust in Harry couldn't help but feel a little insecure.
As the balls were released and the referee Aidan Lynch shot into the air, Lee pointed at his throat and muttered sonorous. It was time for action. The quaffle was tossed from Davis to Carlson, back to Davis and then was intercepted by the Bulgarian chaser Turganev. The Bulgarian chasers were fast, but they were by no means as fast as the English. Before they were anywhere near the goals, the quaffle was reclaimed and the game was in full flow.
Harry hovered a few meters above the other players, his eyes focused on the game below him, darting to and fro for the sight of the snitch. He also kept a sharp eye on his opponent, Viktor Krum. He had known Krum for almost 8 years, and though off the pitch they were good friends, on it they were bitter rivals. He thought he saw a glint of gold, but whipping his head around it was just the toss of a Veela's hair. He returned to intently surveying the pitch.
The game was fast and brutal. The Beaters on both sides were whacking the Bludgers with all their might, indiscriminately smashing it at the other players. Almost half an hour had passed, and it spoke well for the skill of both teams that neither side had scored a single goal yet. Harry saw a bludger hurtle towards him and dodged with his customary grace. He knew that "Take out the seeker" was the Beaters motto, and with the help of the Weasely brothers he had honed his talents of diversion. He felt a sudden nostalgia. He wished Fred and George were on the field with him. He had tried to persuade them to play for England as he had, but stubborn iconoclasts they decided on the Irish team. He winced as he remembered the semi-finals match between Ireland and Luxembourg. 220 to 30 was not just a defeat, it was a miserable one.
A sudden shout went up from the crowd and Harry turned his head to see Krum spiral down towards the ground. Harry didn't move. He had studied Krum's actions ever since he had witnessed the first game, and he knew the expression that came over the older players face when he was feinting. True enough, Krum pulled out of the dive, and Harry could feel the relief emanate from the crowd.
The heat was growing. Even from the air, Harry could see the people biting their nails, nibbling their lips and clenching their fists. A cheer went up. The first goal of the game had been scored. Davis, Carlson and Nichols had adopted the Hawkshead Formation, and Harry had to admit that it was an unnerving experience to have three of the best players in the world come hurtling at you. The Bulgarian Keeper, Maranski had indeterminately floated for a few seconds before falling away, allowing Nichols to attack with the Reverse Pass. It was superbly done, and even a 10-0 was better than a 0-0 score.
Then the goals started coming thick and fast on either side. Perhaps the Chasers were on their mettle, or the Keepers were lax. Whatever the reason, the pace of the game accelerated tremendously. The crowd was delighted. This, after all, was what they had come to see. Lee was having the time of his life screaming out his comments, and heckling. Only Harry and Krum had nothing to do yet but wait.
Hermione, seated in the top box, looked anxiously from seeker to seeker, not sure whether to support her boyfriend or her best friend. She had been praying that they wouldn't clash, but in her heart she knew they would and now she was utterly confused. Sitting in the box with all the other wives and girlfriends, she felt very out of place. All these women were models, or actresses, or millionaires. She would have infinitely preferred sitting in the bleachers with all her friends, but that just wasn't meant to be. She thanked her stars that Mr. Weasely was there in his capacity as the English Minister of Magic and wished that the rest of the Weaselys had agreed to join him.
A sneering voice behind her forced her to turn her head. Sitting behind her, discoursing on the poor play of the England team was the bane of her life, Draco Malfoy. Almost as if he felt her watching him, he looked up. "Granger!" he hissed.
She politely inclined her head. "Malfoy. How is the work coming?"
He turned away rudely and she smiled to herself. He may have been her fellow teacher in Hogwarts, but he knew as well as she did that both in seniority and popularity she held the upper hand.
She turned her attention back to the game where both the teams were playing superbly. The score was an impressive 410 to 400, and the Bulgarians were putting in even more effort. The snitch had been sighted once, but before either seeker could even approach it, it had disappeared. But this had put both of them on their mettle and their swoops and curves would have done justice to a flying ballet.
A Bludger zoomed towards Krum and hit him violently on the shoulder. He stifled a groan, but it was obvious to the sympathetic crowd that it was agonizing, and a cry of commiseration filled the air. Harry grinned to himself as he saw even the English cheer Krum. Only a Seeker, and that too an excellent Seeker, was treated with such veneration. Krum had repeatedly proven himself to be the best. It was time to change all that.
Even as these words ran through his mind, his eyes caught the glint of gold. Twisting his head towards it, he saw that Krum hadn't noticed it yet, but the Bulgarian was even closer to it than he was and if he went for it now Krum would get to it first. Harry thought fast. He, very casually, almost elaborately casually, floated towards the snitch, praying that it would not disappear. When he was close enough he hurtled towards it. The sudden change in pace caught Krum's eye and he followed but it was too late. Perhaps Krum could have outpaced an Aidan Lynch, but Harry Potter was a different story. The light blue robes floating around him, Harry had reached the snitch just seconds before his opponent, and did what only the most skilled seeker could do. He employed the Plumpton Pass and swept the snitch into his sleeve, defeating Krum in a photo finish.
The crowd sat still in amazement for a few second, as the scoreboard winked BULGARIA: FOUR HUNDRED; IRELAND: FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY.
Lee shouted in joy, "England wins. Harry Potter has the snitch and England wins."
Slowly but surely the crowd gathered momentum and Harry Potter heard the sound he had always wanted to hear - that of crowds in a Quidditch stadium chanting one name - his own.
DISC. None of the characters are mine, and if you didn't realize that what are you doing reading fanfiction?
Please review, flame whatever. i have four more chapter ready, but because of fanfictions on and off again status I can't put them up