Chapter 2: Quidditch

If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be wasting my time here; not when my private island would await.

Warning: mild Tom/Harry slash

Harry stared at his plate, not hungry at all. However much Ron reminded him that he should keep his strength up for the Quidditch match in a few hours, he just couldn't bring himself to eat. They had put into motion their plan to infiltrate Slytherin's dormitories under an hour ago, but Harry was already starting to have doubts. Yes, it had seemed like a wonderful idea, but so many things could go badly, and it would only take a curious student who knew the charm Alohomora to get them all in terrible trouble. And the potion could explode, or they could brew it wrong and poison themselves, or Snape could discover the missing ingredients, or something else would ruin it all. Maybe they should just–

"Harry?" he heard distantly. He failed to register his name immediately, still staring moodily at his food. "Harry!" Hermione's voice broke through his thoughts, and he forced a smile.

"What is it?" he asked his friend, trying to keep his tone light.

"You know, I may not have a Seeker's eyes, but I'm certainly not blind!" The girl folded her arms and glared at him, as though he had suggested that she was blind, but after a moment her expression softened. "Harry, I'm one of your best friends. I know you, and it's easy enough to see that you're fretting about our…" – she lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially – "Potions homework. It'll be fine, Harry, really."

Harry's smile fled, replaced by a worried look. "You can say that, but what if we forget to lock the door and some firstie wanders in and tells a professor? Or if Myrtle knocks over the cauldron when we're not there? Or–" He couldn't seem to stop himself from spouting all of his fears about what could go wrong. Speaking the words out loud rather than letting them drift around in the back of his mind made him even more nervous.

"Harry." Hermione's face was stern, but her tone betrayed her. "Stop worrying! Nothing will go wrong. Do you really think I'd let it? Now get some food into your stomach, you've got a Quidditch match to worry about!" She smiled warmly.

The dark-haired boy smiled back, this time genuinely. "Thanks, 'Mione," he said softly, and reached for the sausages.

"'Bout time," mumbled Ron, mouth full.

Harry couldn't repress a snicker. And it felt like he was getting his appetite back as well. "About time indeed," Harry thought happily, and dug in.

Even for November, it was a miserable day. The sky was uniformly grey, the kind of gloomy grey that leaches the colour and life from everything, and a bitter wind was blowing the sporadic drizzle at a steep angle. Harry shivered in his red-and-gold Quidditch robes and wiped his glasses with a damp sleeve, before stepping onto the pitch behind the rest of Gryffindor's team.

Before they reached Madam Hooch, the team's captain, Oliver Wood, stopped and turned around to face his players. "Alright!" His stance was solid and his eyes eager. "Let's have a good game, team. Play it fair, but play well! We won't lose to those snakes, even if our fathers didn't buy us expensive new brooms."

His last words were louder than strictly necessary, and judging by the glares shot their way by the Slytherin team, not well received. Gryffindor's team, however, let out a cheer and marched up to the centre of the pitch.

They were met there by seven angry Slytherins, all on new Nimbus 2001 brooms and headed by Marcus Flint. Harry scanned their players briefly and met the eyes of the new Slytherin Seeker – none other than Draco Malfoy.

The blond boy sneered condescendingly and hefted his new broom, shooting a dismissive glance at Harry's Nimbus 2000. Harry glared, his eyes sparking with anger. He may have a newer broom, Harry thought, but I'm a better Seeker than he could hope to be.

"Players!" At Madam Hooch's shout, Harry's gaze snapped to her.

"Mount your brooms!" The woman knelt down, one hand on the chest containing the Snitch and Bludgers, the other holding the Quaffle.

"And… GO!" As both teams rose quickly into the air, she threw the red ball, which was caught by Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell.

Harry rose higher, flying lazy circles around the pitch. Cold rain pelted him and he had to squint through it. As he looked down on the match he realized that he could no longer see the other team's blond Seeker. Looking more closely, he figured out why: Malfoy was shadowing him, only a few broom-lengths behind and gaining.

Harry began to zig and zag, trying to throw the other boy off his tail. As he swung left and began a dive, a dark shape whizzed past his face, only centimetres from his nose. Startled, he pulled sharply out of his dive just in time to see one of the Weasley twins dart past.

"Sorry, Harry," Fred – or was it George? – yelled back to him. "Bludger got away from us!"

The other twin pitched in from below. "Almost hit Malfoy, though!"

"S'fine," Harry hollered back. "Just be more careful next time!"

He rose higher above the match, hoping to avoid the next stray Bludger. Malfoy, undeterred by the near collision, followed. He had fallen behind during Harry's maneuvering, but was once again coming up fast.

Harry decided that for now it didn't matter, and just ignored the other boy, focusing on finding the elusive Snitch. He flew in a wide curve, scanning the air above and below, but saw no glimmer of gold. What he did see was another Bludger gone astray and again headed straight for him.

What is it with these Slytherins? Harry mused. It's true that their own Seeker is incompetent, but is he really bad enough that they have to knock me out?

Swooping below the oncoming Bludger, Harry twisted around to watch it head for Malfoy, a wide grin on his face. The Bludger, though, didn't even get close to the blond boy before it swerved in midair and hurtled back toward Harry, who immediately fell into a steep dive. He dropped like a stone toward the rest of the game ("And Gryffindor scores their first goal! 60-10 to Slytherin! Slimy buggers–") with the Bludger still following. Harry was almost certain they weren't supposed to do that.

"Fred! George!" The twin Beaters fell into line with Harry, flying alongside him. "Get this Bludger off my back, would you?" The pair of them gave simultaneous nods and fell back, bats at the ready.

Harry sighed, and flew back up above the action. He was still tailed by Malfoy, but decided to ignore him for now and focus on finding the Snitch. He raised a hand to wipe away the raindrops on his glasses – a futile effort, he realized as the steady drizzle eliminated his efforts. With visibility this low Harry wouldn't be able to rely on his quick sight. This game would come down to luck, and nothing more.

With his focus directed at the pitch, Harry almost didn't notice the Bludger as it ricocheted off one of the twins' bats, flew under Malfoy, and swooped back straight at him. Harry had had quite enough of this.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with this Bludger?" he shouted to the nearest twin. "Why does it keep following me?"

The redhead only shrugged, looking as confused as Harry felt. "Maybe one of the Slytherins cursed it!" he shouted back, shooting a dirty look at Malfoy. "I'll ask Wood!" The twin doubled back, flying toward the team's Keeper and Captain, Oliver Wood.

Harry narrowed his eyes and angled his broom sharply downwards. Bracing himself against the wind, he flew as fast as he could fly, and the Bludger predictably followed. As Harry drew level with the rest of the game he pulled out of his dive and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

The Slytherin Chasers scattered as Harry maneouvered between and around them, his path full of sharp turns and narrow curves. The Bludger still trailed him, wildly beating a path through the other team's players. One of them dropped the Quaffle, only for it to be caught by Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson, who sped off towards the Slytherin goals.

Harry paused for a moment, processing what had just happened, and then grinned. His plan had worked – now all he had to do was make sure that the Bludger didn't hit him.

This… was getting ridiculous. Harry stood on the ground, cowering behind Fred and George Weasley as the twins took turns beating away the rogue Bludger, only for it to circle back and come at Harry again.

Oliver Wood had called a time-out when it became apparent that his team's Beaters were fully occupied with protecting Harry, leaving the rest of the team at the mercy of Slytherin's beaters and the second Bludger.

When Madam Hooch had blown a shrill note on her whistle, one of the iron balls had come to an abrupt halt and made its way back to her, but the other had continued to pursue Harry. The Bludger was being fended off for the moment, but the team's Beaters couldn't devote their attention to only one player for the rest of the game.

"Potter," said Wood grimly, "you're a brilliant Seeker. We need you in this game. With those new brooms the Slytherins've got, the rest of us haven't a chance. We're losing badly, and you're our last hope."

Harry opened his mouth, ready to defend the rest of the team, but Wood cut him off.

"We know it's true, Potter, and so do you. Now, I know that Bludger's a bit of a bother–"

"Oh, yeah–" said one of the Weasley twins.

"–just a bit," finished the other dryly.

Wood continued as if neither had spoken. "–but Potter, if anyone can do this, it's you. We need you to– I need you to get in there and catch the bloody Snitch before Slytherin gets any more of a lead on us. Show them that a Seeker has to have more than a rich father to win. Beat Malfoy to the Snitch, or die trying."

Harry stood a bit straighter and looked his Captain in the eye.

"I'll do it."

Half an hour later into the game, and Harry wasn't feeling so sure anymore. Visibility was still low, Malfoy was still on his tail, and the Bludger had only –against all odds – gotten harder to avoid. Judging by Malfoy's snickers every time the ball got close to hitting Harry, the dark-haired boy was almost certain that its relentless pursuit of him was the fault of the other Seeker. Harry wasn't ready to give up, though. If he caught the Snitch soon enough, they could still win.

It had to be soon, though. The score was 160-50, in Slytherin's favour, and the gap was only growing. Four more goals for them and it would be a tied game at best. Harry was trying as hard as he could, but without Fred and George protecting him he had to devote most of his attention to avoiding that thrice-damned Bludger.

Suddenly, Harry saw a glint of gold out of the corner of his eye. Keeping track of it, he continued in a wide loop, drawing slowly closer. No point in letting Malfoy know where the Snitch was, after all. Harry sped up a bit as the Bludger whizzed past again, narrowly avoiding it.

The Snitch zipped upwards and Harry heard a gasp from behind him. Now that the other Seeker had caught sight of the tiny ball there was no longer any point in stealth. Harry leaned forward, pushing his broom to its highest speed, and reached out with his right arm. He was so close!

A black blur slammed into his outstretched arm, and for a moment, all Harry could feel was pain. He gasped, and jolted back. His arm was dangling limply at his side. He tried to raise it, and a flash of agony seared through it. Turning his head, Harry saw the rogue Bludger hovering near him. It almost looked proud, if such a thing was possible.

The Snitch gleamed in front of him, its wings brushing his face gently. As if in a trance, Harry reached up with his left hand to take it, felt it flutter against his palm as his fingers closed around it… and fell.

Author's Note:

First of all, thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, favourited, followed, and even just viewed this story! It means a lot to me that people like my work, and I'll try my hardest not to disappoint all of you! (More reviews wouldn't be turned down, though...)

I had meant to introduce the Diary in this chapter, but then I remembered that I had to write in a Quidditch match, so that took precedence. Next chapter, though, I promise.

And a huge thanks to my beta, deerstorm!