xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx Quidditch Final xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
It was that time of year, once again. Charlie made his way across the grounds, headed towards the changing rooms. This is your last chance, he thought to himself. Make it count!
He pulled on his Gryffindor Quidditch robes for the last time, and sat down on a bench, though he was too nervous to stay still. His teammates sat around him, though they were perceptibly calmer than he was. Once everyone had their robes on, he cleared his throat.
"Well," he started tersely. "This is our last chance - my last chance - to win this Cup! If we let Slytherin take this-" He sighed and run a shaking hand through his red hair. "Bottom line: We need this. I need this. Gryffindor needs this. Don't. Let. Me. Down. I believe in each and every one of you. If I didn't, you wouldn't be here. Teamwork is more important now than ever. I can't win this match on my own, and neither can you. Not alone. We're a team, and we're going to work like one." A few players nodded, others just looked sick.
"Well, it's time. Let's go." He shouldered his broom, and the rest of the team followed suit. He led them out to the center of the pitch, where Madam Hooch stood waiting with the Slytherin team. Hissing and boos broke out at their arrival on the pitch, but they were droned out, by far, by the cheers and whoops of the Gryffindors. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had all seemed to side with Gryffindor.
"Captains, shake hands." Charlie shook, or for better words attempted to break, the hand of the Slytherin captain. His mind was buzzing. He couldn't let his team down, not now! He must catch that Snitch! It's the only way.
Charlie barely heard the whistle blow, and before he knew it, everyone else was off the ground. He zoomed upward, scouring the skies for a glint of gold.
He saw it! It must have been a record, but he mustn't go for it now, or they would win the match, but lose the Cup; he would not let that happen. He had to wait until his Chasers scored twenty points. It wasn't much in itself, but no one (especially his brothers) would ever let him off if he slipped up like that.
A diversion? It was the only way. He shot off towards the Slytherin end, and, just as he expected, the Slytherin Seeker was right on his tail. He repeatedly glanced behind him, not watching the opposing Seeker, as he seemed to, but watching the Golden Snitch. As he spun his broom around in midair, to great hissing from that House of Snakes, he assured the general area of the Snitch, and smirked at Slytherin's Seeker. Gryffindor had just scored a goal, owing to the immense cheers from both the large mass of Gryffindor supporters and from the commentator, who happened to be a Gryffindor, himself.
Just one more, he thought. He could wait that long. But could he hold off the opposition from sighting the Snitch? No.
He flew straight upward, towards the heavens. And his rival, refusing to miss this 'golden opportunity' flew after him, deciding to mark Charlie, rather than make an attempt to find the Snitch.
But Charlie was one step ahead of him. He still knew where the Golden Snitch hovered, directly above the half-pitch line.
And another eruption from the Gryffindor end. They had the twenty points they needed. Now it was his time. He turned around, flying at full speed towards the flying little golden ball. He'd reached the mid-mark, with the other Seeker right on his tail. He groped in midair-
"YES!" he yelled, descending to the ground, where the mass of cheering students had already congregated. He hopped off his broom, and flat-out ran to where Professor Dumbledore stood, the shining Quidditch Cup in his hands. Professor McGonagall was standing next to the headmaster, tears pouring down her cheeks. As Charlie reached them, the Cup was pressed into his hand, while the hands of admirers patted his back. McGonagall pulled Charlie into a spine-breaking hug. The rest of his team closed in around him, walking with him back to the changing rooms, each wanting to touch a part of the Cup. They had worked so hard for this! He had done it! They had done it!
He faintly heard someone say something about a party in the common room. As he pulled off his Quidditch robes, pulling on his black ones, he wondered how this day could possibly have been any better.
A/N: This was using the prompt Quidditch Final, again for the Magic Number. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading! *hugs*