Hi! I'm back again.
So this is another oneshot and if you're wondering why I have another story so quickly I have no idea. It just came to me one night and I couldn't sleep before writing it down.
Never have and never will own Harry Potter (unless J.K. Rowling says I do).
Let's just assume this is after the war and they've all gone back to Hogwarts.
They are 20 points behind. If he can just capture the snitch before Potter, they win the match. One of the Slytherin chasers has the quaffle and is heading toward the Gryffindor goal posts. Everyone is watching. It looks like they'll be up another 10 points because Weasley in his stupidity has somehow fallen off his broom and is hanging on trying hopelessly to get back on.
He sees the snitch near the Slytherin goal posts. Potter is still too busy watching his friend kick aimlessly around trying in vain to remount his broom. He makes his way there slowly trying to avoid being noticed. So far he is successful and everyone is still too concerned about Weasley. Even the Slytherins are watching Weasley smugly knowing he'll never be able to save the quaffle coming his way. He reaches the snitch and extends his hand to catch it. It's in his hand and instantly the crowd is screaming.
He smirks, the little golden ball still fluttering in his hand from his recent capture. Part of the crowd is still applauding while the rest is booing and jeering.
Something isn't quite right about the situation however, because the booing seems to be coming from the Slytherin end.
He looks up to he stands to see everyone looking toward the Gryffindor goal posts. Weasley is just getting back on to his broom and the quaffle is far away, closer to the middle of the pitch. He realizes with a sinking feeling that Weasley must've accidentally kicked the quaffle away from the posts in his attempts to remount. Still, he has the snitch and they've won by a hundred and forty points.
They've won but no one notices the snitch in his hand, not even his fellow housemates. Just like the rest of his life no one notices nor cares about his triumph.
He has been punished yet again by his father who expects him to be showing traces of magic by now. He's seven years old and is sitting angrily on his bed. His father has somehow made it so that the door will not open for another hour unless he shows signs of having magic. His cheek is burning from the slap his father had given him.
He picks up his toy broom from beside him and throws it at the wall. He just wants to destroy everything in sight, but he knows that his punishment will be even worse if he breaks so much as a thread on his duvet cover.
He glares at the expensive vase on his nightstand, almost willing it to break. His anger almost getting the better of him, he is about to stand up and go smash it against the wall. Just as he decides to go over to it, it suddenly lies in shambles on the table. He is astonished, not to mention extremely excited, all feelings of anger disappearing in an instant. He runs to the door of his bedroom hoping it is now unlocked. It is.
He runs out hoping to find his parents to tell them of his accomplishment. He yells for them as he is running but receives no response. After searching several rooms of the manor, he is convinced they are not there and calls for the house elf who tells him that his father is at the ministry and his mother is at the Parkinson manor.
He is back from their trip to Diagon Alley. He now possesses a wand of his own. He retreats to his room and begins trying it out. He tries the flying charm on his quill. Nothing happens. After about an hour of practicing, his quill finally levitates an inch of the ground. It is the first bit of magic he has ever done with a wand.
Although he is pleased with himself he knows better than to run in search of his father to tell him the news. During dinner he casually mentions it in passing. His father then asks how far off the ground it went. When he says how much he finds himself hanging upside down from the ceiling.
It's finally ready. Tonight the death eaters would enter Hogwarts and it was all thanks to his work on the vanishing cabinet.
He begins to regret his decision not to let Snape help him as Bellatrix steps through the cabinet and into the Room of Requirement. She smiles at him in her twisted way and tells him to follow her lead.
Up in the tower he is silently thankful for Snape's arrival. He knows he cannot kill the headmaster and it is probably his greatest decision not to. The cruciatus curse he receives from his aunt after they disapparate to the manor says she thinks otherwise.
This is it, the battle whose outcome will either doom the world or set it free. He's standing outside the room of requirement. Potter has just dumped him here and ran off. How Gryffindor could Potter get? He's thankful though. He's not stupid to think he could have gotten out of there if Potter hadn't helped him.
He honestly wants Potter to win. He's had enough experience with the Dark Lord for one lifetime. Not that he'll tell anyone that.
People are rushing around. Curses are bring thrown back and forth. He no longer wants to fight. He sees many of the order members' backs turned to him, focused only on their opponents. He knows he can easily kill them if he wants to, but he doesn't. He is neither with nor against them. No one will ever know how many lives he is choosing not to end.
The quaffle is back in possession by one of the Slytherin chasers. Still no one has noticed his capture of the snitch. Not the commentator who is going on about nargles or something of the like and doesn't even seem aware that there is a game going on. Not even Potter who is still hovering near the Gryffindor stands looking around. No one except her.
She's been watching him ever since the game started. No, actually she's watching him from the beginning of the school year. It's almost like she knows something about him that he doesn't.
She is the only one who seems to know about his capture of the snitch. He can see her clearly. She is the only one not watching the ongoing fight for the quaffle. She shouldn't matter however because he knows she'll never tell. She's too loyal to her house to let anyone know.
He can. He can always go out there and show people the snitch in his hand. He has proof. He can let everyone know that he has won the match for Slytherin. He can finally get the glory he deserves. But he doesn't. He looks once more at the tiny golden ball in his hand and lets it go.
He can see her eyes become even wider and her mouth form an O shape. The tiny ball hovers near him as if offering him a chance to reclaim it. He looks back at her still shocked form and before he can think twice about recapturing the snitch, it disappears.
He knows she is his only witness. He also knows that she won't tell. No one had to know. No one else would ever know.
Thank you for reading!
If you don't read the last two flashbacks you can actually (maybe) sort of fit this in somewhere in the 6th book.
Reviews are always loved, constructive criticism is welcome, but flames will be used to set fire to the rain.