CHAPTER 3 – The Quidditch Game

A week later, Harry was eating breakfast at his kitchen table while reading the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet when Ron appeared in the fireplace, his broom in hand and a Quidditch equipment bag on his shoulder.

"Morning, mate!" he said, walking into the kitchen and dropping the bag, and a fair amount of ashes, on the floor. "What are you up to today?" he asked, sitting down at the table and pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Not much, really," answered Harry amused by Ron's familiarity. "You?" asked Harry, eyeing Ron's bag.

"Well, you know, I was on my way to the Burrow for a game of Quidditch with some friends and I was wondering if you would like to join us. You've got your broom back, right? And your Quidditch equipment, yes? I know you haven't played in quite a while, but I thought you might enjoy it, you know."

Upon leaving Privet Drive, Harry had left his Quidditch uniform and equipment behind. At the time, he couldn't take them and most of his other belongings with him. He had fully expected his aunt and uncle to burn the lot. However, upon his arrival at Grimmauld Place after a long period of training, he had found a package on the kitchen table with a note attached to it: "Mum and Dad wanted to burn these but I thought you may want them back. Big D."

Harry, wondering why Dudley would go to the trouble of sending him anything, had opened the package reluctantly. Finding all he had left behind made Harry realised the Dementors' attack really had had its benefits after all, and Dudley seemed to be on the road to redemption.

His broom had been another story entirely. The morning after the Death Eaters' chase, a wizard found it in a tree, in a Muggle neighbourhood. Since Firebolts were registered brooms, the wizard turned it in to the Ministry, who locked it in a vault with other belongings confiscated from the wizards and witches who had not support the new regime. At the end of the war, while Percy and some Ministry staff were going through the vault in order to return the belongings to their rightful owners, they had come across the Firebolt and had sent it back to Harry with the Ministry's apologies.

"So, want to come?" asked Ron, bringing Harry's attention back to the conversation.

Remembering the numerous hours he had spent at the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, Harry thought he would very much enjoy playing again.

"Brilliant!" he said, more enthusiastic that he had been in days. "I'll just go and get ready."

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"Where is everybody?" asked Harry when they arrived at the Burrow by Floo Powder, a few minutes later.

The house was completely empty.

"At the Quidditch pitch," answered Ron. "When Ginny joined the Holyhead Harpies, my brothers and I transformed our old orchard into a real Quidditch pitch, as a gift to her, you know," he explained. "You should see the amount of spells we used to make it Muggle-proof, mate. We even put up invisible barriers to prevent the balls from ending up in the neighbours' fields. And that's without talking about all the invisibility charms we had to perform! But it was worth it," added Ron, nodding. "Ginny was really happy to get her own Quidditch field… I mean, how many people can say they have one, you know? And she was even happier when people began to come and play with her, which was cool, if you ask me."

As Ron explained, he led Harry out the back door and towards the old orchard.

"We even built changing rooms and stands for family and friends," he added.

They entered the stadium and found two groups of players shaking hands in the middle of it. One team was wearing red and the other black.

"Oh, good! You convinced him!" exclaimed Oliver Wood, Harry's former Quidditch Captain, when he saw them.

"It wasn't too hard, really," answered Ron.

Harry's jaw almost dropped when he saw who the other players were. This select group not only included Oliver Wood, keeper for Puddlemere United, but also Viktor Krum from the Bulgarian International team, and an assorted variety of players from the Holyhead Harpies, Wimbourne Wasps, Tutshill Tornadoes and the English International team.

"Our team is in serious need of a Seeker since Charlie can't come anymore," explained Oliver. "Up to it, Potter?"

George Weasley, who was also there, grinned broadly.

"Err... I think," answered Harry not sure at all.

The last time Harry had heard about Krum, he was still the best Seeker in the world. Harry didn't know if he was ready to measure himself against the world renowned Player, even in a friendly match, especially since he was seriously out of practice.

"Ron, who do you play with?" asked Harry when they left for the changing room.

"Me?" asked Ron surprised. "I'm not playing with that lot! I just don't compare, mate. No, I'm the referee," he added with a smile.

Harry began to feel as nervous as the first time he had ever played.

"Do you realise that I haven't played in over two years?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, but you haven't forgotten how to ride a broom, have you? You'll see; it'll be just like when you caught Neville's Remembrall... You didn't need practice then."

Harry changed into his old Hogwarts Quidditch uniform which, to his surprise, was now a little big for him. Then again, maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised. He had never been wanting for food while at Hogwarts, which was definitely not the case while in Auror training.

"You need to change the colour," said Ron, taking out his wand. "You're playing black. Induviae nigra!" Harry's uniform turned to black.

They walked out of the lockers and Harry, barely able to hold in his eagerness at flying again, mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground hard. He leaped into the air and flew around the pitch a few times, enjoying the feel of the wind on his smiling face and the air flowing through his hair. The day was sunny and mild, which made it perfect for flying. However, it would make it harder to see the snitch.

"Harry!" yelled Ron from the ground, his wand to his throat to amplify his voice.

Harry flew down and landed next to Ron with a grin on his face.

"Sorry!" he apologised to the awaiting players. "I hadn't had a chance to fly in a while."

"We could see that!" said a woman voice he recognized only too well.

Looking up, Harry saw Ginny standing next to Viktor Krum. She was as beautiful as ever, with her long red hair shining in the sun. As Ron was giving his last instructions, Harry saw Krum whisper something to Ginny, and she laughed in response. He could not help but be jealous, very jealous, in fact. And all of a sudden, it was no longer important that Krum was the best Seeker in the world. What was important was that Harry wanted to beat him, or had to beat him, to show Ginny who was the best.

"Okay, teams! Let's do this!" said Ron who had moved to the middle of the field, and released the balls.

Harry took position and realised Ginny was on the same team as he was. It became even more important for him to get the snitch as he didn't want to let her down.

He mounted his broom again and rose above the field. Ron blew his whistle and the game began. To Harry's surprise, he heard Lee Jordan, accompanied by George, commenting on the game. This made it a lot easier for Harry, as he could follow the game without looking at the players. It quickly became apparent how good and accomplished a player Ginny was. It seemed to Harry that all he could hear was her name, and hearing about Ginny only strengthened his resolved to catch the snitch first.

Deliberately, he flew around the field, searching for the little golden ball, varying his speed and direction to confuse Krum. At the beginning of the game, he tried to keep an eye on his adversary but quickly gave up the idea in favour of searching for the snitch himself, as Krum used a number of feints to try and lure him out.

Harry's team, despite the chasers' best efforts, was losing by 50 points when Krum tried to lure him into a Wronski Feint. At the same moment Viktor began his dive, Harry saw the snitch, looming near the bottom of his team's hoops, on the opposite side of the field from Krum's position. Executing a wide arc in order to make Krum believed he was having another look around the pitch, he went for the golden ball. Only as he drew closer did he accelerate to full speed, and plunge towards it. When Krum realized what Harry was doing, it was simply too late. He was at the other end of the field, and even at maximum speed, Krum could not reach Harry on time to prevent the inevitable.

Among the enthusiastic commentaries of Lee Jordan at the microphone, Harry closed his hand around the snitch and, proud of his accomplishment, flew high over the field, waving it over his head.

"Harry Potter has caught the snitch!" announced Lee Jordan.

Harry circled around the field feeling as good as if he had won a game against the Slytherin. He had outplayed the best Seeker in the world and it had left him feeling quite exhilarated.

He finally landed and the rest of the players ran to him. Upon reaching him, Ginny threw herself in his arms and said, laughing: "You've beaten Viktor Krum, Harry!" Before he knew it, she kissed him. It felt as good as their first kiss after they had won the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup two years earlier. He felt triumphant as not only had he beaten Viktor Krum, but he also felt like he had won the girl. Ginny's kiss was however too short as the rest of the players wanted to get his attention and congratulate him.

"Very nice move," said Krum, shaking his hand. "You had me convinced that you were only going across the field for another look."

"Thanks!" said Harry, shaking his hand genially.

"Mate, you're good!" Gordon Green, Beater for the England World team, told him. "Have you ever thought about joining a team and play professionally?"

"No, I've got to admit that I haven't. It's not my calling," answered Harry with a shrug.

"Not your calling? But it's a waste of talent!" exclaimed Gregory Spivey, Beater for the Tutshill Tornadoes.

"Greg, Harry wants to become an Auror," said Ginny, who was standing very close to Harry. "It's a lot more noble than Quidditch Seeker, if you ask me!" she added with a proud smile on her beautiful face.

"Children!" called Mrs Weasley from the stands. "Shower, quickly now! Dinner's ready!"

Harry felt his stomach growl. He hadn't realised how late it was and how the sun was slowing sinking to the west. To his surprise and delight, he was hungry for the first time in quite a while.

Harry was the last one to take a shower. Everybody had wanted to speak with him which had considerably delayed him. He had just walked out of the boys' locker room, his shirt in his hand when he heard a gasp. He looked up to see Ginny, staring at his still naked chest.

"You've... You've got it?" she asked fascinated.

Like Ginny had told Romilda Vane a few years ago, he had got a tattoo of a Hungarian Horntail a few months earlier to cover the scar left by Slytherin's locket.

"Yes," he replied shortly, rapidly putting his shirt on to hide his tattooed chest. "I figured I had enough scars as it was... Hungry?" he asked, pointedly changing the subject but not daring to look at her.

He was afraid that if he looked at her, Ginny would understand he hadn't got the tattoo only to hide the scar, but also as a reminder of the happiest time of his life, the time he had dated her in his sixth year.

"Yeah," she answered with a smile.

Glancing up, he saw that she was offering him her hand. He took it and with a smile, let her guide him towards the exit of the empty pitch.

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It was late evening, or early morning, Harry couldn't tell. He had been sleeping upstairs in the twins' bedroom when he had woken up from another one of his horrible nightmares. In this one, he had seen Fred die over and over again. He still felt sleepy but he didn't want to wake the entire household with his cries, so he had gone downstairs to the kitchen.

He was sitting at the Weasley's dining table and was thinking of the previous day. In the aftermath of the game, Mrs Weasley had served a dinner as plentiful and good as a Hogwarts feast. Harry had looked at Ginny, sitting at the other end of the table, more than once. She had animatedly spoken with two other players and he had frequently seen them laugh heartily. It had been so good to see her enjoying herself. She had looked his way more than once and, in those rare moments, they had shared a smile.

Ginny had gone to bed earlier than him, after she had escorted some of the players back to the kitchen heath. It had taken Harry a few minutes to realise she wasn't coming back, and he hadn't dared seek her out. Consequently, Harry hadn't had a chance to talk to her, but it may not have been a bad thing as he didn't really know what to say to her.

"Harry, dear! What are you doing down here at this time?" asked Mrs Weasley, walking into the kitchen.

"Mrs Weasley!" he exclaimed startled. "I was just thinking!"

"At five o'clock in the morning?" she asked with a frown.

Harry didn't answer, not knowing what to tell her. Mrs Weasley always treated him as her son and he didn't want her to worry about him. She had been through hell during the war and she deserved some peace and tranquillity.

She put a kettle on the fire, pulled herself a chair and sat down next to him.

"Harry, dear, you know I love you like a son. You may not have red hair or the last name 'Weasley', but you are my son as much as if I'd given birth to you. And I think I also know you as if I had raised you," she said gently. "I can see something's wrong with you. You look more underfed than when you lived at the Dursleys, and more tired than when you were fighting the war and were on the run. What's wrong, dear?"

Harry debated whether to tell her or not. He wondered if he could reach out to her and add a new burden to her recently acquired peace of mind.

"Harry, I know you fear you will be creating new worries for me, but don't," she said as if she had read his mind. "I'm always worried about you. I've been worried since Christmas when you didn't visit with us. I think they're working you too hard and don't really care about your well being."

"But somebody needs to do the work. Somebody needs to sacrifice their Christmas so other people can live happy and without worries," said Harry, feeling sadness wash over him.

He knew she was right however. He had given so much already. He had been giving since he had arrived at Hogwarts over 8 years ago. However, he knew he could not give up chasing those whose sole purpose was to hurt other people. It was part of him, this inner desire to save the world.

Mrs Weasley stood up and quietly poured them some tea. She set a cup in front of him and sat down again. Taking a few sips of tea, she looked at him.

"Harry, dear, what's wrong?" she finally asked.

"I have nightmares," he answered quietly.

"Nightmares?" probed Mrs Weasley gently.

"Yeah... I see the ones who died in the war, and the ones who survived. I see them all die, over and over again. It's as if I have a boggart in my dreams but instead of showing me what I fear the most, it shows me what hurts the most."

"Poor dear! No wonder you look like you haven't slept in a month!"

"Mrs Weasley, is there a potion or a spell that could get rid of those nightmares?" he asked hopeful that Mrs Weasley would have a solution.

"Oh, there probably is, but I'm afraid, in your case, it would not be the solution," she answered sadly. "I think the best way for you to get rid of them is to surround yourself with happy people and create happy memories… Talking of which," she began, changing from an attitude of concern to one of amusement, "when will you ask our Ginny out on a date?"

"I – I don't know," he answered completely taken aback.

Of all the questions in the world, that was the last one he expected from Mrs Weasley who had always been so protective of Ginny.

"She… she deserves better than me," he added after a few seconds of silence.

"Rubbish!" said Mrs Weasley, slapping him gently on the hand. "She has been so happy since she saw you at the Quidditch game the other day."

"Mrs Weasley, why would she want anything to do with me? She's beautiful, brilliant, funny, and I'm only haunted and gloomy Harry!"

"Harry, dear, do you like her?" asked Mrs Weasley seriously.

"Yes! A lot!" he answered with no hesitation or second thoughts.

"That's all she needs," said Mrs Weasley gently. "That's all she wants, and that, my dear boy, is what she deserves."