I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: This is for Season V of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, round #9

Team & Position: Caerphilly Catapults, Beater 1.

Base Prompt: Your task is to write a story about a known Quidditch player using the prompts associated with each piece of equipment. Bludger: Write about a witch or wizard being attacked. (This could be anything from being bullied to a Death Eater raid to a swarm of Cornish pixies surrounding a character—again, use your imagination.)

Optional Prompts:

2, (word) defeated

11. (word) grass-stain

Harry sucked in a deep breath. He was panting hard as he ducked down behind some cover, desperate for a reprieve he could use to gain a second wind. He had been running from Dudley and his gang for the last twenty minutes as they were once again partaking in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.

All too quickly, Harry heard a shouted, "I found him, he's over here!" from Gordon. At least, Harry thought it was Gordon. Malcolm and Gordon, both were big and stupid brutes, but Gordon had brown hair while Malcolm's was blond. Harry didn't take the time to check his assumption. With his breathing back under control, he took off from his temporary refuge as fast as possible to avoid capture.

As he ran, Harry considered the options available to him. If he tried to head to Privet Drive, odds were good that Aunt Petunia would yell at him to get out. Failure to comply with such an order would just make things worse for him. If he did leave, then Dudley's gang would likely have already caught up. While the Hunt would be over, the fun for Dudley's gang would be just beginning. In the worst-case scenario, Aunt Petunia would give him a list of chores to do. This would make it even easier for Dudley's gang to find him and have their "fun."

Since it was the middle of summer, Harry was unable to head to the school. Even if the building were open, he would quickly be asked to leave as he had no business being there. With his poor reputation, he couldn't think of anywhere else where he would be welcome. Most everyone in the neighborhood wanted nothing to do with Harry. Those that didn't hate him on sight would be more than happy to let Dudley provide an escort back to Privet Drive.

So, instead, Harry did as he had countless times before: attempt to outrun the brutes throughout the neighborhood until they lost sight of him. If he could keep up his dodging long enough, the group would grow bored and find something else to do. The only danger with continuing to run was the longer he stayed out of reach but still visible, the worse the results would be if he was caught.

Harry turned and cut through a small park, dodging around a couple of trees on the periphery. He had once tried climbing those trees to get away. Unlike with Ripper, Aunt Marge's dog, it had proved to be a disastrous mistake. The gang had clustered around the tree and then Piers, the gangliest of the brutes, climbed up after him. Being larger than Harry, Piers hadn't taken long to dislodge Harry from his perch. The landing had knocked the wind out of Harry and made it impossible to get away.

Halfway across the park, Harry caught sight of a family enjoying a day out. If they didn't explicitly chase him away, they would undoubtedly see Dudley chasing after him and actively stop him from escaping. Dudley would be able to saunter up with a quick excuse as to why he was being chased. The gang would then lead him away to somewhere more private before having their fun.

The sounds of feet coming from his left caused Harry to look over. He saw Malcolm keeping pace with him. A look to the right showed Dudley's lumbering that looked slow but was deceptively fast. Harry knew the only way that he would be able to get away was to continue straight ahead and risk running through the family gathering.

As quick as he could, he shot through the family. He awkwardly jumped the soccer ball being passed around, barely avoiding hitting it. Indignant shouting followed him, but he paid it little mind—it wasn't like his social standing could get any worse.

Shortly after that, Harry was nearing the other edge of the park when Piers stepped out from behind a tree to block his escape route. The boy was breathing hard but had a wicked smile on his face. The other boy took a stance before lunging to tackle Harry. Seeing this, Harry reacted quickly and dropped into a slide, successfully sliding beneath Piers' outstretched arms. The other boy landed roughly, giving Harry time to stand up and continue running.

A quick glance back on his way out of the park saw Malcolm helping Piers up while Dudley and Gordon were huffing to get to their friends. Seeing Harry looking back at them, Dudley yelled out, "That's right, freak! You better run! Next time we're gonna get you, and when we do, you're dead!"

Harry turned back to watch where he was running, chuckling to himself while he pushed harder to get just a little more speed and distance from Dudley and his band of brutish boys. While he had defeated the gang, he knew that sometime in the future he would be caught unaware. Then he would have to pay the price for today and the other days he had successfully escaped the Harry Hunt.

Finally getting a few blocks away from where he had left the gang, Harry snuck away into a hiding place. He had learned to be careful to ensure Dudley and his gang had truly given up the chase. After roughly thirty minutes, Harry felt it was safe to leave his hiding place. He spent the remainder of the afternoon hanging out at the park where he had lost his cousin.

By early evening, he was ready to return to Privet Drive for dinner. Upon arriving at the house, Aunt Petunia took one look at him before screeching, "What've you been doing? Is that a grass-stain on the clothes that we gave you out of the kindness of our hearts? You'll clean those immediately before that stain has a chance to set into those pants, and with that blatant disrespect, you'll also be washing Dudley's clothes."

Harry hung his head, the joy from the afternoon's escape finally disappearing as the ramifications became apparent.