Chapter 6 – Unicorns and Quidditch
The sun rose over the Dark Forest and streamed in through the windows of Gryffindor tower. Off in the distance, birds called to each other over the tops of the trees, and unidentified sounds could be heard from the shadows of the Dark Forest. Ron was first to wake, yawning as he slipped on his house robe and looked around the room. Harry and Dudley were still fast asleep. Dudley was snoring like a freight train. Ron walked over to Harry's bed, stuck his index finger in Harry's ear, and jiggled it. Harry reached up in his sleep and batted it away. Ron did it again. Harry sat bolt upright in bed, feeling at his ear. He looked around and saw Ron standing by his bed, laughing.
"Ron!" he grumbled. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
Ron's smile faded. "No need to be so grumpy," he muttered, stepping away from the side of Harry's bed.
"You'd be grumpy if someone stuck their finger in you're ear while you were asleep," replied Harry, still rubbing at his ear.
"Well, you didn't grow up with Fred and George," said Ron.
Harry climbed out of bed and slipped on his house robe, too. They both stood side by side, looking at Dudley, sound asleep and still snoring.
"How can you stand the noise?" said Ron. "Your aunt and uncle must be deaf!"
"You're one to talk," said Harry. "You sound like Gryffindor tower is being dragged through the Dark Forest!"
Ron looked at him incredulously. "I don't snore!" he stated flatly.
Harry laughed. "Oh, yes you do!"
Ron looked at him in surprise and then down at Dudley. "Know any good spells to use on him while he's asleep?" he asked.
"Don't you dare!" warned Harry. "We're supposed to be helping him — not traumatize him!"
"He's gonna get pranked sooner or later," Ron said.
"Yeah, well it won't be from us," Harry warned. "Dudley, wake up!" he shouted. "Wake up Dudley!"
Dudley rolled over, stretched, yawned, and opened his eyes to see them standing by his bed. He yawned again. "What's happened?" he asked.
"Nothing," snapped Harry. "It's time to get up and go down to breakfast."
The word 'breakfast' had an instant, motivating effect on Dudley. Suddenly, he was wide awake and jumping out of bed as fast as he could.
They all got dressed and went down to the Great Hall. The house tables had been replaced by one smaller table set for eight. Dumbledore and Hermione were already there, talking with Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, who were both having breakfast. Everyone looked up when the boys entered.
"I was beginning to think the three of you were going to spend the day in bed," said Dumbledore, as he buttered a piece of toast and spread raspberry jam on it. His bright, blue eyes sparkled as he watched the three boys taking their seats. "I hope you all slept well."
Harry, Ron, and Dudley all nodded a reply.
Petunia gave them a big smile, too. "Good morning, sweetums!" she said to Dudley. As he sat down next to her, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. Dudley blushed red.
Hermione, who was hidden behind the Daily Prophet, put down the paper and looked at the boys sternly. "I hope you three didn't stay up half the night planning ways to get in trouble again this term?"
"Of course not," replied Ron, as he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "And you're one to talk," he added. "Honestly, Hermione! Sometimes I think you're more our mother than our friend."
She looked offended and stuck her tongue out at him.
Vernon Dursley said nothing. He was working on a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage while keeping an eye on everyone else.
Harry was fixing a plate of buttered pancakes and syrup. "Where's Professor McGonagall this morning?" he asked.
"Oh, she had some errands to take care of," said Dumbledore. "She was up and had breakfast hours ago."
About that time, several owls swooped in, circled the room, and dropped four letters in front of Dumbledore. Vernon instinctively raised his arms over his head and ducked.
"Relax, Uncle," said Harry through repressed laughter, as he smiled. "It's just the mail delivery."
Vernon straightened up and composed himself. "I think I prefer the slot in the door," he said.
Everyone was done eating by the time Dumbledore finished reading his post. He gathered up the letters, slipped them into a pocket, and cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.
"We plan to show you around the castle and grounds today," he said to the Dursleys. Then he addressed Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "You three can come along, if you like. Otherwise, you're on your own today."
"I'd like to come," said Harry.
"Me, too," added Hermione. "I might learn something new about the history of Hogwarts."
"I guess that means I'll go, too," said Ron, who didn't much fancy the idea of spending the day alone.
Dumbledore stood up and motioned towards the door. "Good," he said. "It's such a nice morning, I think we'll start with the grounds. We can have a turn around the castle after lunch."
"What about my test?" asked Petunia.
"Oh — I'm so sorry! I forgot to mention," he said. "We haven't forgotten you, Mrs. Dursley."
"Please call me Petunia," she encouraged.
"Petunia," he continued. "We've already planned to get together in my office after the tour to see what we can find out. But first, let's take a turn around the grounds and walk off some of this delicious breakfast."
They followed Professor Dumbledore out of the castle and onto the grounds. A soft mist of dew clung to the blades of grass still in shade. But where the sun had already begun to illuminate the ground, the dew was beginning to evaporate into the morning light, leaving a soft, dark green blanket behind. From the Dark Forest, birds of every description could be heard calling to each other through the trees. The sun reflected from the surface of the lake and thew bright splotches of light against the castle like spotlights. Harry thought how strange and different it all seemed without students running in every direction. The Dursleys, too, were looking around, obviously impressed by the Hogwarts grounds.
"We'll take a look at the greenhouses first," said Dumbledore, as they walked across a large stretch of lawn towards four long, glass enclosed buildings. "Herbology is one of the classes Dudley will be taking this term. And if I'm not badly mistaken, Professor Sprout should be around here somewhere."
As they made their way across the lawn, they encountered Argus Filch heading back to the castle. His graying hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a long, dark brown jacket that looked ancient. His arms swung loosely by his sides, and his jowls quivered as he walked.
"Good morning, Argus," said Professor Dumbledore, nodding graciously.
"Good morning, Headmaster!" Filch replied.
"Tell me, have you seen Professor Sprout?"
Filch stopped and turned to Dumbledore. "She's in greenhouse three this morning," he said, looking rather grumpy.
"Thank you!" said Dumbledore. "Oh, Argus! These are the Dursleys. Young Dudley, here, will be attending Hogwarts this fall."
Filch leaned forward and looked at Dudley suspiciously. "No dung-bombs! No fanged frisbees! And no using magic in the corridors!" he ordered.
"We know the rules, Argus," said Dumbledore with a chuckle. "I'm sure young Dudley will be a model student." He looked at Dudley encouragingly with those penetrating blue eyes that made you feel like you were being x-rayed. Dudley shivered and nodded his head. "Well, we better get along, now," he said to Filch.
As they walked away, they could hear Filch muttering to himself. "Hang 'em by their ankles in the dungeon! That'd teach 'em. Oh — how I love the screamin'!"
Dudley's eyes grew wide with fear. "He doesn't really hang students by their ankles, does he?"
"No, Dudley," said Harry, laughing. "He just likes to dream about it, that's all."
"Mr. Filch is our caretaker," explained Dumbledore, who was looking at Harry reproachfully. "If I pulled out a hair every time I got a complaint about him, I'd be bald by now!"
"He sounds like an absolutely horrible man!" said Petunia.
"I agree," said Vernon. "Why don't you just get rid of him?"
"He's been here a long time," said Dumbledore.
As they continued across the grounds, Hermione asked, "How did he get to be caretaker in the first place?"
"His mother taught here," said Dumbledore. "His parents were wizards, but he's a squib — entirely without magic. There weren't many jobs he could do in the wizarding world. Argus has been working at Hogwarts for more years than I can count. He has no family. He can't do magic. And he's totally unprepared for living in the muggle world. But he is, after all, a good caretaker in spite of his personality."
"Why is he so grumpy all the time, anyway?" asked Ron.
Dumbledore looked at him over the top of his spectacles. "I suspect his disagreeable nature comes from the fact that the students can do magic and he can't." Then he turned back to the Dursleys. "Of course, he sets himself up by baiting them and threatening them. But no one really takes him seriously. I only intervene when it's absolutely necessary. My advice to you, Dudley, is to stay clear of Mr. Filch."
"I will," agreed Dudley enthusiastically.
"I'd like to ask you something, Professor?" said Harry. "Can Filch talk to Mrs. Norris?"
"Mrs. Norris?" asked Dudley, curiously.
"Mrs. Norris is Filch's cat," explained Harry. "She wanders the castle, and when someone does something wrong she goes running for Filch. He usually shows up right away. I've always wondered if those two can talk to each other."
"I don't really know," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I'll have to make it a point to ask him."
They all stopped in front of a large glass door framed in weather beaten oak. "Well, here we are," he said, as he opened the door to greenhouse three and stepped aside for them to pass.
Professor Sprout, in her work apron, floppy hat, and work gloves, and covered in dirt from head to toe, was re-potting some seedlings at one of the work benches near the front of the room. She looked up and smiled as they entered.
"Good morning, Headmaster!" she said.
"Good morning, Professor! Please allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. And this is their son, Dudley."
Professor Sprout dumped the dirt she was holding back into the tray and wiped her hands on her apron. "Hello, Dudley," she said with a very kind voice and friendly eyes. "I'm looking forward to having you in my greenhouse one class this term."
Dudley nodded politely.
Professor Sprout removed her work gloves and brushed some of the soil out of her hair. Then she turned to Dudley's parents. "In herbology, we teach the care and use of various magical plants and herbs," she explained. "Some have medicinal uses, and others are used in various kinds of potions."
"What are these for?" asked Petunia, looking around at the strangest collection of plants she had ever seen.
"This is greenhouse three," said Sprout, looking around, too. "The plants in here are mostly rare or unusual species. We don't allow students to work with these plants, in their mature form, until sixth year. Those cuttings I have rooting over there, for example, are Devil's Snare. When fully mature, it tries to strangle anyone who touches it."
Petunia's mouth dropped open, and she looked horrified. But Professor Sprout didn't seem to notice.
"And over here we have what's left of last year's crop of Mandrake. They're used in a restorative potion. However, the cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it."
"Cry?" asked Vernon incredulously.
"Yes," said Hermione, who couldn't help showing off her knowledge of herbology — or anything else for that matter. "The Mandragora only cries when its roots are pulled out of the soil. There's a picture of one on the wall over there," she said, pointing to the opposite wall where hung a large picture of a mandrake.
Professor Sprout was nodding her approval. "It's very important to wear proper ear protection when working with the Mandrake," she said while walking slowly towards them. "And then there is the Venomous Tentacula that's creeping over your shoulder, Mr. Dursley."
Vernon turned purple and panic stricken. He slapped at the tendril that was draping itself over his shoulder and stepped out of reach of the spiny plant.
"Very good, Mr. Dursley," said Sprout. "That's exactly how to repel a young Venomous Tentacula. If you try to grab it, it may bite. And these are teething right now. It's used in potions, and it's bite is extremely poisonous."
"I don't suppose you have a man eating Venus flytrap around here, somewhere?" he asked sarcastically.
"They're in greenhouse four," she said.
Vernon wasn't sure whether she was joking or not, and he didn't want to find out.
Petunia looked around nervously. "Do you think it's wise to let kids their age work with such dangerous plants?" She was obviously worried about her son.
"Professor Sprout is an excellent teacher," said Dumbledore. "She's been with us over twenty-five years, and we've never had a major accident in herbology."
"Oh, there have been some minor cuts and scrapes," added Sprout. "But I keep a watchful eye on all my students, Mrs. Dursley — not to mention a generous supply of antidote to every kind of poisonous plant. But most importantly, the first thing I teach my students in greenhouse one is to respect the plants they work with. And always follow proper safety protocols."
Despite her appearance, and the strange collection of plants she kept, Vernon couldn't help but be impressed. This woman was obviously very responsible and knew exactly what she was doing. In fact, when he stopped to think about it, he was impressed by everyone he met so far at Hogwarts — with the exception of Filch.
"Well, thanks for your time, Professor," said Dumbledore, smiling.
"I'll see you in class, Dudley!" she said, as they left the greenhouse and emerged into the bright sunlight.
Petunia looked pleased. "She seems a very nice sort."
"Most of the students really like her class," agreed Dumbledore.
"Probably because they're allowed to swear loudly, if the Venomous Tentacula grabs them," said Harry offhandedly.
Ron looked amused. "How did you know that?"
"Fred and George told me," he admitted.
"I'm going to have a nice long talk with Fred and George," said Dumbledore.
They walked towards an open area of the grounds adorned by one solitary tree. It's leaves had just begun to turn, but it looked oddly barren. The really strange thing, though, was that not a single bird perched on its branches.
"There's something else I'd like to warn you about, Dudley," said the headmaster, as they stopped short of the tree. "This is the Womping Willow. All students know to stay away from it."
"Why, Professor?" he asked.
Dumbledore reached down, picked up a pebble, and tossed it into the tree's branches. Immediately, the tree came to life and began flailing its limbs, trying to attach the pebble. Vernon stepped back, his mouth gaping wide in surprise.
"It was planted a few years after I became headmaster."
"Why would anyone want a tree like that!" exclaimed Vernon.
"It's a long story, Mr. Dursley," he replied. "Besides — the Womping Willow is a very rare and valuable tree. There aren't many around."
"I can see why," said Vernon, turning pale.
Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully. Then he turned and began walking towards the lake. Everyone followed. "Just stay away from the Womping Willow, Dudley!" he warned.
They arrived shortly at a large body of water, still and peaceful in the morning sun. Dumbledore gestured with his hand towards the black lake. "Ah! — and this is the lake you crossed last night, Dudley. Students find it's shores a nice place to relax and study or commune with the Giant Squid."
"Giant Squid," asked Dudley, shocked.
"Yes," he replied. "It lives in the lake. You'll see it surface from time to time." Then he noticed Dudley's expression. "Don't worry, Dudley. It's completely harmless. Quite friendly, in fact. It will sometimes come to the edge so students can touch its tentacles, but it never leaves the water. Once, a student who couldn't swim fell in, and the Giant Squid helped him back into the boat. So, there's nothing to be afraid of here, Dudley."
"Does anything else live in the lake?" asked Hermione.
"Yes," he answered. "There are mer people who live at the bottom, but they rarely come to the top."
"You mean mermaids?" asked Vernon, surprised.
"Mermaids — Mermen — yes," he said. "I talk with them from time to time. I can speak mermish, you know." Everyone looked at Professor Dumbledore in awe. "It's really nothing," he said modestly.
"But I thought mer people were just a myth," said Petunia.
"No, they are quite real," he assured her.
They followed Dumbledore around the shore until they came to the edge of a stand of trees that became more dense in the distance, until it was darker than twilight inside. They stopped short of entering the grove.
"And this is the Dark Forest," he said. "It is strictly forbidden to all students. So, Dudley, you are not to go in unless you are accompanied by myself or Hagrid. Do you understand?"
"Harry already told me."
"Good for you, Harry!" said Dumbledore approvingly.
Petunia pursed her lips. "Why is it forbidden?"
"There's dangerous creatures in there," said Dudley.
"And some that aren't dangerous at all," added Dumbledore.
Vernon narrowed his eyes, trying to see into the darkness. "What, exactly, does live in the Dark Forest?" he asked, curious to know what the dangerous creatures were.
Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Well, all the normal creatures you'd expect to find in a forest. Then there are unicorns, some festrals Hagrid domesticated, and the largest herd of centaurs in Britain."
"What are centaurs?" he asked, trying to follow what Dumbledore was saying.
"Centaurs are half-man, half-horse," replied the headmaster, looking at Vernon quite seriously.
"Is there really such a thing?" he said in disbelief.
"Yes, Uncle," said Harry. "I met Bane and Firenze at the end of last term."
Dudley was fidgeting again. "Are they dangerous?"
"Hum? That's hard to say, Dudley," Dumbledore began. "Centaurs are somewhat xenophobic. They prefer to stay pretty much to themselves. And they tend to be quite arrogant. They believe that they are more intelligent than we are — though I think we're pretty evenly matched there. If you accept that they aren't really interested in being our friends and treat them with respect, then you don't have anything to worry about. But you don't want to insult them or push them too far. They can be dangerous if angered, and they're deadly with a bow and arrow."
"What about unicorns?" asked Petunia. "I thought they were mythical creatures, too?"
"No," said Dumbledore. "They most certainly do exist and have done for centuries. The unicorn is a highly magical creature — valued and honored by most witches and wizards. Their horns can be used in certain potions. And their tail hairs, while being incredibly strong, are also used as the magical core in wands."
"So why don't we have unicorns?" she asked.
"That's an interesting story," he said. "When the non-magical population started killing them for their skins, members of the magical world protected them by hiding them. This all happened several thousand years ago, you understand. As the unicorns began to disappear, the non-magical population thought they were dying out! But that wasn't really true. They were slowly being hidden under the protection of the magical community. And so it is today."
Vernon pointed at a rough-hewn structure close to the edge of the forest. "What's the cabin over there?"
"Oh, that's Hagrid's," replied Dumbledore. "He's keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts."
Just then, Hagrid walked into the clearing, leading a unicorn foal by a rope tied around it's neck. The unicorn was following him timidly and looked lost. Several yards behind Hagrid walked a large, powerfully built, blue eyed centaur.
"Greetings, Professor!" shouted Hagrid. "Firenze found this foal wandering around the forest — apparently lost. I thought I'd take care of him until we can find his mother." Then Hagrid saw the others standing there. "Well, hello there, Harry, Ron, Hermione. What are you three doing here?"
"I believe you already know the Dursleys?" said Dumbledore by way of introduction. The Dursleys looked frightened — especially Dudley.
"Yes sir," said Hagrid, shifting his feet nervously.
Seeing how uncomfortable everyone was, Dumbledore spoke up. "I see you're all remembering your first meeting. I take full responsibility. I should have come to you myself and explained everything instead of sending those letters. And I should never have sent Hagrid in my place to pick up Harry. It was my mistake. I should have known how you would react. And knowing that Hagrid is very protective of my reputation, I might have guessed he'd go a little overboard." Dumbledore looked at Hagrid expectantly over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Hagrid, don't you think you owe young Dudley here an apology?"
"Sir?" asked Hagrid innocently.
"For giving him a pig's tail," explained Dumbledore.
Hagrid's eyes grew large and watery. "I didn't think you knew about that, sir!"
"Hagrid!" scolded Dumbledore. "You should know by now there's very little that goes on around here that I don't know about."
"I'm — uh — sorry, Dudley," stammered Hagrid, embarrassed, as he extended his huge hand for Dudley to shake. "Any friend of these three is a friend of mine," he said, smiling and trying to look friendly.
"Where are my manners?" said Dumbledore, gesturing to the centaur standing patiently by the unicorn. "This is Firenze."
"Greetings to you all," said Firenze to the group. "And to you, as well, Harry Potter. I hope you are fine?"
"I am, thanks to you," said Harry.
"I did nothing but carry you to safety," said Firenze. "Though Bane was not pleased."
"I hope you didn't get into too much trouble for letting me ride you," said Harry.
The Dursleys looked at each other with a combination of shock and amazement, as they tried to imagine Harry riding Firenze.
"Bane is too arrogant where fortune is concerned," he said. "He does not see the overall picture. He relies too much on the heavens and not enough on what his senses tell him in the present."
Harry smiled. "Well, thank you again," he said.
"Any time, Harry Potter," replied Firenze, as he turned and, with a swish of his tail, galloped back into the Dark Forest. Hagrid was stroking the unicorn. Petunia, unaware of herself, was looking at it longingly.
"Would yer like to pet him?" asked Hagrid, who noticed her expression.
"May I," said asked.
"Of course. Now come here — very slow — that's it — he's a little shy at first."
Petunia slowly approached the unicorn. "He has such a beautiful golden glow around him," she said.
"I beg your pardon?" said Dumbledore, confused.
"A glow," she replied. "Can't you see it?" They all looked at her, amazed. She knelt down and began to softly stroke the unicorn's fur. "He's so beautiful. And so sad," she commented. "He misses his mother. She died."
"How do you know that?" asked Dumbledore, amazed.
"I don't know," whispered Petunia. "I just feel it." She continued stroking the unicorn foal and it looked, lovingly, into her face. "She's not far from here — by a large tree with many roots sticking up from the ground — and a small puddle of water not far from the tree. I can see her."
"I know where that is," said Hagrid, handing Petunia the rope and running off into the forest.
"This is incredible," said Dumbledore. "Harry told me you could see magical traces — but this — this is extremely unusual."
Petunia smiled at Dumbledore and kept stroking the unicorn. They all watched her for a few minutes in silence. Then Hagrid returned carrying a wounded adult unicorn in his massive arms.
"She's not dead — not yet, anyway," he informed them. "I think we can save her."
The unicorn's front leg was bleeding profusely. Hagrid laid her gently on the ground beside her foal.
"Harry, run up to the castle and get Madam Pomfrey. Tell her what's happened," ordered Dumbledore. "And hurry!"
Harry did as he was told. Vernon, who had been watching everything with silent interest, couldn't help being moved by the beauty and sadness of the unicorns.
"Is there anything we can do?" he asked.
"Your wife is doing more than we could hope," said Dumbledore. "Petunia, try to convey to the foal that we're going to take care of him and his mother."
"I'll try, Professor," she said and looked into the unicorn's dark eyes. "He understands, I think," she told Dumbledore, as she continued to comfort the foal.
Harry returned a few minutes later with Madam Pomfrey. "Do what you can, Poppy," said Dumbledore.
She knelt down beside the mother unicorn and began to stop the bleeding. The unicorn made a soft, grateful sound. Her foal looked over at her and echoed his mother.
"Well, there's nothing more we can do here," said the headmaster. "The unicorns are in good hands. There's only one more thing to show you, and then we'll go back up to the castle."
Walking around the grounds with Professor Dumbledore had made Harry realize, for the first time, that Dumbledore was more than just his headmaster. He was ruler of this entire, expansive realm known as Hogwarts. Suddenly, Harry felt a new and deeper respect for the man.
They walked around the castle to a section of the grounds they hadn't seen before. Stands of bleachers enclosed a very large, oval shaped pitch with three goal posts on either end — fifty feet high.
"This is the quidditch pitch," said Dumbledore. "Quidditch is THE wizard sport — like football in the non-magical world. Everyone follows quidditch. There are school teams, regional teams, national teams, international tournaments — well, you get the idea."
"Harry's on his house team," bragged Dudley. "He's a seeker."
Vernon and Petunia both looked at Harry in surprise.
Dumbledore glowed with pride. "Yes, Harry is the youngest player to make a house team in a hundred years! Gryffindor house is very proud of him. Although I'm really not supposed to take sides, I think he's the best seeker I've seen at Hogwarts. When it comes to flying, he's a natural."
"Flying?" asked Aunt Petunia, as she looked at Harry horror stricken.
"On a broomstick," explained Dudley excitedly.
Petunia put her hand to her heart and looked as though she was going to faint. Vernon looked at Harry vacantly.
"I wanna see Harry fly," said Dudley. His mother glared daggers at him.
"Could Ron and I toss the quaffle around some, Professor?" asked Harry. "Please? I haven't flown all summer."
Harry and Ron were looking at Dumbledore excitedly. Petunia was looking at Harry apprehensively. Vernon was looking at the ground.
"Well — alright!" he agreed. "Go get your brooms."
Harry and Ron took off running towards the castle. Dumbledore, Hermione, and the Dursleys looked after them.
"Ah! The exuberance of youth!" he sighed. "You can stay here and watch Harry and Ron, if you like. I have to go back up to the castle and answer a couple of letters before lunch."
"I'll go with you, Professor," volunteered Hermione. "Could I use the library?"
"Of course, Miss Granger," he said, as they strolled away.
The Dursleys took seats about half way up one side of the pitch. In a few minutes, Harry and Ron returned carrying their broomsticks on their shoulders. As they walked out into the center of the pitch, Dudley noticed that Ron carried a quaffle and Harry had a golden snitch in his hand. Knowing how much his dad liked sports, Dudley tried to explain.
"See that big red ball? That's called the quaffle. The players have to put it through the hoops at the end of the pitch to score."
"Those hoops? High in the air?" asked Petunia nervously.
"Yeah!" said Dudley. "And see that small golden ball Harry is carrying. That's called the golden snitch. Harry is seeker. His job is to catch it. A game doesn't end until the snitch gets caught. But it's so small and fast, it's hard to see and even harder to catch. So the seeker has the most important job on the team."
"How many players are there?" asked Vernon, who was now beginning to get interested.
"Seven on each team," explained Dudley. "There's three chasers, two beaters, one keeper, and one seeker."
Dudley would have continued explaining, but Harry released the snitch. It went zooming all around the pitch faster than they could see. Harry and Ron mounted their brooms and kicked off hard. The Dursley's mouths fell open in surprise when they saw how fast and how high Harry and Ron were flying.
They threw the quaffle to each other for a while, and then Harry went after the snitch. The high speed maneuvers he performed made his aunt and uncle gasp for breath. Then he saw the snitch hovering three feet off the ground at one end of the pitch. He did a full speed fifty-foot dive towards the ground that made the color drain from Aunt Petunia's face. She screamed! But being the expert flier that he was, he leveled out just two feet above the ground with the snitch in his hand. His uncle Vernon applauded. No matter what he might have thought about the magical world before, this sport was exciting.
"I never thought magic could make someone so good in sports," he said.
"It's not magic," said Dudley. "They're not allowed to use magic in sports."
Vernon looked shocked. "But they're flying! And the balls are flying!"
"Magic makes the brooms and balls fly," explained Dudley. "But everything the players do is on their own. It's like driving. Gas makes the car run, but you still have to drive it."
Vernon's jaw dropped. "You mean, he's doing all those moves on his own — without magic?"
"Yes, dad," said Dudley. "Isn't he good?"
"I had no idea," said Vernon, who knew true athletic ability when he saw it. "I would never have dreamed that Harry had that kind of talent."
Petunia laid her hand on Vernon's arm and gave him a smile. "I'm really proud of him, Vernon," she said. "Even if he does scare the living daylights out of me!"
Vernon looked at his wife. "I am too, Petunia. I can't wait to see him in a real match."