Author's Note: This was written for the Globetrotter Drabble Competition on The Harry Potter Challenges Forum posted by why the caged bird sings. For prompt #24 Toronto. I used the 10% leeway here, and still the plot probably wanted to be a oneshot rather than a Drabble, but oh well. My first competition entry ever. Special thanks to NiftyGirl, for betaing this for me, and helping me to cut out unnecessary words and sentences and paragraphs, and to TheHaloFreak who came up with the idea of the Chudley Cannons and winning and Wronskei Feints. With the exception of Dragomir Gorgovitch, all the characters here are OCs. I don't know where exactly this match would fall on a Harry Potter Timeline. While I do own a Chudley Cannons t-shirt, I do not own any of the rights for Harry Potter. Those all belong to JK Rowling.
If you want to leave me a review and let me know what you think, that'd be awesome.
Enjoy, BarbedWire

With a disheartening thwack, the Quaffle slammed into the leather bracer of his right arm. Cursing the reflex that still forced him to close his eyes whenever he and a Quaffle made contact, he gave the heavy ball the push it needed to sail away from him and into the waiting hands of his teammate.

"Nice save!" the man called back to him before taking off toward the other end of the pitch. The match was going dismally. Forty minutes into the decidedly wet match and they were down 140 points. Despite all that, the team was in good spirits and the crowd was cheering without regard to the score. This was why Chester Dunford had wanted to start his professional Quidditch career playing for the Chudley Cannons.

A collective groan rose from the stands, Chester turned expecting to see the Quaffle buzzing past him into the hoops. Instead what he saw was the ball in question dropping rapidly from the place where Dragomir Gorgovitch's broom hovered. The crowd groaned his name, and Gorgovitch faltered then took off after the ball.

That was when he saw it, the cloud cover had broken enough to allow a ray of sunshine through or he wouldn't have noticed the glint of gold as the Snitch flitted away. His first instinct was to call out its location, but he deliberated. If he drew attention to it, the Wasp seeker could perhaps reach it before his own teammate. But the Cannons seeker was distracted watching Gorgovitch. If he said nothing, the Snitch could disappear again and the match could drag on for hours. If his teammate managed to reach it first, not only would the match be finished, but it would be a victory.

Deciding that he would be blamed for the loss anyway, he called out, "Oi! Baldwin!"

The other man turned so rapidly he seemed in danger of falling, and to Dunford's disquiet so did the Wasp seeker. Knowing it was too late to stop, he pointed in the direction of the snitch. Utilizing the full power of his broom, Baldwin took off in the direction indicated. He was followed, naturally, by the opposing seeker, but the Snitch did not remain still. They took off in pursuit, until they seemed to have lost sight of it.

At once Baldwin took off again in a stunning dive. The Wasp seeker went after him and together they plummeted toward the ground. Dunford had no idea what was happening until Baldwin slowed mere feet from the ground and sped upwards instead, leaving the Wasp Seeker to attempt and brake his broom before impact. The Wronski Feint would've been well executed, if not for the Bludger that sideswept Baldwin's face as he rose, sending him spinning. He managed to stay on and even to use his momentum to snatch the Snitch, whose location he apparently never lost track of.

The roar that erupted from the stands was deafening, and in record time the entire crowd had emptied onto the pitch. Just as quickly Dunford had abandoned his post and was joining them on the ground. Baldwin was in the center of it all, sporting a bleeding nose and holding the Snitch above his head for all to see. This was victory. The Cannons had won.