Chapter 11
Blackness faded to splashes of color, and the splashes turned into a scene. It was of a rather dark place, hewn from rock, with torches lighting it. There was a stone throne, and in it, a man sat, his face blocked from view by a black hood. Two men, clothed in black robes, kneeled before the throne. The scene suddenly jerked into motion.
"My Lord, our numbers have grown larger since word of your return. I believe we are ready to carry out large scale plans now," said the man to the right.
"Good, Lucious. You have proved yourself to be one of my more valuable followers. Continue, and you may find yourself my right hand man," The figure on the throne said in a voice that carried malice hidden in it.
The man on the left took this opportunity to speak himself,
"Majesty, we have found some artifacts that should help us greatly in the search for the Elcrys. The Garo do not know that we have them yet."
"Those Garo...let them know! We shall destroy them! Those guardians are mere antiques now, there is no way that they can defend their ward against me! They shall fall before they have chance to so much as point a flamescha at us!" the enthroned man growled coldly.
"Great one, we have almost found the two secret keepers. We suspect they are both close to..." the first man's voice dropped to utter the name he loathed, "Potter."
The scene started to fade, and was replaced by a pain that deep sleep had barely covered up. Harry awoke, writhing in bed, not having enough breath to cry out in anguish. He fell onto the floor, and scrambled upwards. He threw open a window close to his bed, and grabbed a pitcher of water resting on the window sill. As the cool night air washed over his sweaty body, he took huge gulps of water, wetting his parched throat and cooling his insides. The pain died down, and Harry just stood there, taking gulps of air instead of water. He didn't want to go back to bed. He picked up his wand and whispered,
"Calendré."
His luminescent schedule popped up over his bed, and showed that it was 4:43. He had gone to bed rather early, so he didn't feel a shred of desire to go back to sleep.
He crept down to the common room, collapsing on his favorite squishy couch, in front of the glowing embers in the fireplace. He heaved a sigh. Living on the edge had been fun, but that edge had now become razor sharp. It stood ready to cut him to pieces after what had just happened.
There was a noise from the girls' dormitory steps, the fifth years' flight. Hermione walked in.
"Can't sleep? I heard someone down here, so I came," she stated.
"No, just a bad dream," he replied. Hermione sat on the couch he was sitting on.
"What about?" she asked.
Harry paused. He didn't know if he wanted anyone to know about his dream. But he decided that since Hermione was a good person to tell, and since she was one of his best friends, to tell her. He told her about his dream quickly, since he realized that he might forget it if he didn't tell her the whole thing fast. When he finished, he heard feet padding down the steps from his dormitory. He looked over to see Ron walk in silently.
"Grrr, I just had an awful dream. I woke up, and you weren't there, and the window was open. But then I figured you wouldn't do that, sooo..." He said quietly. He sat next to hermione who was drifting back to sleep.
"Hmmmm? Ron?" she muttered with her eyes closed. Her head lolled onto Ron's shoulder.
"Yep," Ron said, brushing back her hair. She didn't reply.
"So, why are you down here? What happened?" Ron asked, concerned.
Harry proceeded to tell his dream to Ron, who nodded every so often to show that he understood.
"You had a bad dream too?" Harry concluded.
"Yeah, but I can't remember what it was about," Ron answered.
They started to talk about other things, mostly quidditch, and then some things about girls, then quidditch, then food, and ending with girls at about 6:18, when they dropped off to sleep.
Harry woke up about an hour later, and woke the other two, who were resting on each other.
Hermione went back to bed, but Ron and Harry stayed until the rest of the quidditch team came down five minutes later. They went down to the Great Hall and had a frugal breakfast, then went out to the field. The field itself was not visible, with a low mist hanging over it. But there was one preson out on the field. It was Oliver Wood.
"Oliver!" Angelina cried. The whole team jogged out to meet him.
"Didn't think I would miss your first match, did ya, team?" He said cheerily.
"I see I've been replaced by another Weasley," he grinned.
"Yeah, but I'm Goalie," Angelina said proudly.
"And the other two Weasleys have become captains. Impressive, the way you did that, although I don't know how good you're influencing the team," Oliver said, pleased with the trick they'd pulled off.
"Alright, we'll show you," Fred grinned devilishly.
"Team! Mount!" George commanded. The Gryffindors obeyed.
"Ready..." Fred ordered. The players gripped their brooms in anticipation of the next command.
"FLY!" George shouted. Seven figures on broomsticks shot skyward. Six kept up their speed while Fred took out his wand and fired a series of spells at the chest that held the quaffle, bludgers, and snitch. The quaffle was intercepted by Ron, who immedietly headed for Angelina in goal, with Katie and Alicia flying at his sides. Harry shot upward to the perfect altitude for watching for the snitch. Fred and George flew to cruising height, then spun around to smash the bludgers. They warmed up like this, with Fred and George flying about, batting the bludgers, Ron, Alicia, and Katie shooting on Angelina, and Harry darting about after the snitch, for about ten minutes. They then returned to the ground, where they stretched out, for another fifteen minutes, while Oliver watched, impressed with the job Fred and George had done. After stretching, they mounted their brooms, and flew out of the stadium, just getting the feel for flying. They flew in a V, and Fred and George talked to
them about the game. They came back and laid around in the locker room until it was time to come out. None of them talked, too nervous to say anything. It was as if they were facing off in the European Youth Quidditch Tour (as it had been called) right now. Harry shut everything out, only focusing on the task ahead. He knew Malfoy was crap last time he played him, but he had probably been practicing for this day ever since the end his third year. And the broom rings only made the matter worse. And the ball. And the upcoming Marauder's run. And the dream he'd had. What his parents would have him do, how they'd want him to do his best, and how disappointed they might be if they saw him lose against these odds, even though they knew deep down that he could win. As he neared the pitch's center (A/N: I was reading this British soccer magazine today, right? Well, the first article I read talked about how well the players were doing on the pitch. Pitch? What? That's from Harry
Potter... I suddenly realized that a pitch was a field for playing sports, like soccer, in Britain. Can you believe it?! All this time I thought J.K Rowling had made up a word for the place that the quidditch players played over. How dense I am! Grrrr...), he suddenly realized how loud the cheers were, and he looked around to see the stands filled with students, all cheering madly. He entered the circle, and stood ready. The captains shook hands. George was shaking this game; Fred would the next (as if it mattered).
"Alright, children," Madame Hooch said, "On my whistle...three..."
Harry's heart pounded as he got ready to mount...
"Two..."
He thought of all that was at stake and how much he wanted to win...
"One..."
He thought of Cho...
The whistle blast came as Harry mounted his broom, and he streaked upward like a homesick angel. Upward, ever upwards, not daring to look back at what was happening, until he reached the right altitude. The students cheered loudly as Lee Jordan's voice boomed over the stadium,
"It looks like the Gryffindors are off to a brilliant start, with Katie Bell making a graceful pass to Ron Weasley. No Fred, I'm not making a pass on her, don't worry- er, look at that, another pass, this time to Alicia Spinnet..."
Harry scanned the field for the snitch. He wished the game were at 11 in the morning, like it normally was, so that the wisps of mist would have completely boiled away by now. They might mean the difference between victory and defeat, since Draco might see something that Harry couldn't. He watched as George made an excellent hit on a bludger, keeping a Slytherin from stealing the quaffle from Ron.
"...another pass to Alicia, and...wow! SCORE! Didn't see that one coming, did you Kris?" Lee jeered the Slytherins' captain.
It wasn't as bad as Harry had thought it would be. These broom rings weren't all...
"...A very nasty GHOUL scores. Yes, you, you ugly..."
"AHEM," McGonagall cut in.
"Crapper, the Gryffindor seeker is not. It'll be a tense game..."
Harry didn't see Draco. Just because the crowd was watching him for a few seconds, he made a split S. But as he came to the bottom of it, he saw a glimmer of gold. He came out of the loop and casually flew closer. Draco was coming towards it, but didn't see it. Harry suddenly couldn't take the pressure anymore, and turned into a sharp dive for the snitch, just as Lee shouted,
"SCORE, although I doubt that one was legal. Ben Dover, you Slytherin, take your punishment from the Gryphs like a man, er, oops, read the roster wrong..."
That was a really bad attempt at humor, Harry thought, which meant that what Harry wasn't seeing in the battle below was pretty grim. There was a gasp from the crowd as Slytherin scored. He was now coming into the thick of it, screaming towards the snitch, trying not to think of what might happen if Draco was on his toes. He was about ten broom lengths away when Draco overtook him, fast as a spell. Harry veered in surprise; right into the end of Draco's broom. He was knocked off course, and the snitch hit him in the face, then zipped off. Draco turned, but Harry was no longer there. There was a more hopeless gasp from the crowd as Slytherin scored again. Fred and George were doing superb bludger work, but it wasn't enough to combat the broom rings. The Slytherin beaters had hardly even hit the bludgers yet. Harry went upwards, then turned in the opposite direction, and dived down again, just in time to see a Slytherin beater finally contact a bludger, sending it point blank
at Ron. It smashed into his broom and rebounded into his thigh, while the beater, Darren, guffawed with giddiness. He had finally done something! Kris let out a whoop at the action. Fred sent a bludger right into the beater's midriff, while George sent the other head on into Kris's broom, moments after Katie entered the scoring area. She scored on a very shook up Kris. The snitch appeared again, and Harry shot toward it, while the crowd yelled, and Lee commentated madly at the almost-foul, excellent bludger work by the Weasley twins, and Katie's score all at once. The Slytherins retaliated with another barrage of shots on goal.
"Harry, we're getting slaughtered! Get that snitch! We don't have any time!" Fred pulled alongside Harry for a few moments to smash a bludger out of Ron's way.
Draco was coming in at an angle towards Harry's target, with the second Slytherin Beater practically right over the snitch. Harry was getting closer. So was Draco, with a conceited smirk on his face. Harry reached out, getting ready to grab the game ending snitch... there was a whoosh of air as the beater came downward, smacking the snitch with his bat, then heading off in another direction. The Snitch flew right at Draco, who grabbed it, and looked up at Harry triumphantly.
"You suck, Potter. Go see if you have anyone swooning over you now, you fool of a mudlood lover," Draco said, holding the snitch aloft. Harry just floated there. He couldn't believe it. Slytherin had won...
"Hold it! Do you honestly think I'm blind?" Madame Hooch was obviously having a word with Fred over how he'd let his bat "slip" out of his hand to narrowly miss Kris, and strike the goal rim.
"Snitchnip, you git!" Madame Hooch growled, right next to Harry. He watched with amazement as she seized the Snitch from Draco's hand and chucked it off. She yelled,
"Game's still on! Illegal snitchnip by Slytherin Beater! Play On!" She said, then gave a blast on the whistle.
Harry grinned sillily at Draco, then sped off again. Fred quickly scooped up his bat, and the game went on. The Slytherins, quite angered at their loss, played brutally, and scored two more goals in swift succession. Angelina was blocking 90 percent of the time, too. The Slytherins were just too fast. They hardly even aimed when throwing, the mere weight of numbers was on their side. The snitch was suddenly in a frenzy, everywhere at once, in plain view. Harry was right behind it, but so was Draco. He was faster, but there was one flaw with the broom rings; they didn't improve turning all that much, an area where the Firebolt excelled.
Harry followed the snitch everywhere, as Draco desperately tried to foul him, outmaneuver him, anything that could get him the snitch back. The Slytherins were on a scoring rampage, somehow managing not to foul anyone. They had obviously been working on that, thinking that they had nothing else to worry about. Harry got closer. The snitch was about two broom lengths in front of him, streaking for the Gryffindor goal. Draco was suddenly behind him again. They were not too far from the goal. The snitch seemed to be heading for the left hoop, for whatever reason. It was a broom length in front of him. He urged the Firebolt faster, with Draco hot on his heels. The snitch was almost in the goal hoop. Angelina was staring at Harry, startled and bewildered at what he was doing.
Draco was heading over the hoop to catch the snitch on the other side. Harry made a snap decision. The snitch went through the hoop. Harry followed, straight through the hoop, thrust his arm as far as he could reach, and grasped the snitch with his fingertips. It slipped out like a bar of soap. But his other hand came up. The snitch, as if deciding it had had enough, slowed just the tiniest bit, and Harry gripped it firmly, right as Draco flew over head, trying to snatch it away. A quaffle flew through the hoop, hitting Draco upside the head. The crowd let out its' breath, and cheered. Angelina came through the middle hoop, and pulled Harry close, as the rest of the team came over, exuberant.
"Final score: Slytherin: 160, Gryffindor: 170," Lee yelled, ecstatic.
Harry could hear the Slytherins protesting that a quaffle had gone through right before the game ended. He and his teammates came back to Earth, and walked off the field, in a sea of very excited Gryffindors. They went into the locker rooms, posting two prefects at the entrance to keep any over excited students out. When they were all sitting on the benches, each one done telling of how they'd seen the game, Fred and George said in unison,
"Good game."
They decided that was enough, and left.
As they all filed out, Cho ran up to Harry and hugged him.
"Oh, good job, Harry! Excellent flying!" she said.
"Thanks. It was close..."
"Yeah, I could see that. The way you went through that hoop. In fact, look, there must have been a sharp edge that brushed against your forehead, right here," She traced a line on the side of Harry's forehead where there was a thin cut. His hair covered it up, for the most part. It ran from the edge of his eye almost to his ear.
"Whatta ya know," he said.
"Ron! Are you okay?" Hermione had finally gotten through the crowd, helped by Seamus and Dean, who had elbowed their way through.
"Yeah, fine. It may leave a mark, but at least I'll be able to eat lunch, unlike Darren. They're probably still looking for his stomach on the field somewhere."
Harry walked slowly up to the main gates, talking with Cho. He had discovered that the game had gone on for an hour or so, much longer than he had thought.
Check next to the quidditch game, now for the Ball...
Blackness faded to splashes of color, and the splashes turned into a scene. It was of a rather dark place, hewn from rock, with torches lighting it. There was a stone throne, and in it, a man sat, his face blocked from view by a black hood. Two men, clothed in black robes, kneeled before the throne. The scene suddenly jerked into motion.
"My Lord, our numbers have grown larger since word of your return. I believe we are ready to carry out large scale plans now," said the man to the right.
"Good, Lucious. You have proved yourself to be one of my more valuable followers. Continue, and you may find yourself my right hand man," The figure on the throne said in a voice that carried malice hidden in it.
The man on the left took this opportunity to speak himself,
"Majesty, we have found some artifacts that should help us greatly in the search for the Elcrys. The Garo do not know that we have them yet."
"Those Garo...let them know! We shall destroy them! Those guardians are mere antiques now, there is no way that they can defend their ward against me! They shall fall before they have chance to so much as point a flamescha at us!" the enthroned man growled coldly.
"Great one, we have almost found the two secret keepers. We suspect they are both close to..." the first man's voice dropped to utter the name he loathed, "Potter."
The scene started to fade, and was replaced by a pain that deep sleep had barely covered up. Harry awoke, writhing in bed, not having enough breath to cry out in anguish. He fell onto the floor, and scrambled upwards. He threw open a window close to his bed, and grabbed a pitcher of water resting on the window sill. As the cool night air washed over his sweaty body, he took huge gulps of water, wetting his parched throat and cooling his insides. The pain died down, and Harry just stood there, taking gulps of air instead of water. He didn't want to go back to bed. He picked up his wand and whispered,
"Calendré."
His luminescent schedule popped up over his bed, and showed that it was 4:43. He had gone to bed rather early, so he didn't feel a shred of desire to go back to sleep.
He crept down to the common room, collapsing on his favorite squishy couch, in front of the glowing embers in the fireplace. He heaved a sigh. Living on the edge had been fun, but that edge had now become razor sharp. It stood ready to cut him to pieces after what had just happened.
There was a noise from the girls' dormitory steps, the fifth years' flight. Hermione walked in.
"Can't sleep? I heard someone down here, so I came," she stated.
"No, just a bad dream," he replied. Hermione sat on the couch he was sitting on.
"What about?" she asked.
Harry paused. He didn't know if he wanted anyone to know about his dream. But he decided that since Hermione was a good person to tell, and since she was one of his best friends, to tell her. He told her about his dream quickly, since he realized that he might forget it if he didn't tell her the whole thing fast. When he finished, he heard feet padding down the steps from his dormitory. He looked over to see Ron walk in silently.
"Grrr, I just had an awful dream. I woke up, and you weren't there, and the window was open. But then I figured you wouldn't do that, sooo..." He said quietly. He sat next to hermione who was drifting back to sleep.
"Hmmmm? Ron?" she muttered with her eyes closed. Her head lolled onto Ron's shoulder.
"Yep," Ron said, brushing back her hair. She didn't reply.
"So, why are you down here? What happened?" Ron asked, concerned.
Harry proceeded to tell his dream to Ron, who nodded every so often to show that he understood.
"You had a bad dream too?" Harry concluded.
"Yeah, but I can't remember what it was about," Ron answered.
They started to talk about other things, mostly quidditch, and then some things about girls, then quidditch, then food, and ending with girls at about 6:18, when they dropped off to sleep.
Harry woke up about an hour later, and woke the other two, who were resting on each other.
Hermione went back to bed, but Ron and Harry stayed until the rest of the quidditch team came down five minutes later. They went down to the Great Hall and had a frugal breakfast, then went out to the field. The field itself was not visible, with a low mist hanging over it. But there was one preson out on the field. It was Oliver Wood.
"Oliver!" Angelina cried. The whole team jogged out to meet him.
"Didn't think I would miss your first match, did ya, team?" He said cheerily.
"I see I've been replaced by another Weasley," he grinned.
"Yeah, but I'm Goalie," Angelina said proudly.
"And the other two Weasleys have become captains. Impressive, the way you did that, although I don't know how good you're influencing the team," Oliver said, pleased with the trick they'd pulled off.
"Alright, we'll show you," Fred grinned devilishly.
"Team! Mount!" George commanded. The Gryffindors obeyed.
"Ready..." Fred ordered. The players gripped their brooms in anticipation of the next command.
"FLY!" George shouted. Seven figures on broomsticks shot skyward. Six kept up their speed while Fred took out his wand and fired a series of spells at the chest that held the quaffle, bludgers, and snitch. The quaffle was intercepted by Ron, who immedietly headed for Angelina in goal, with Katie and Alicia flying at his sides. Harry shot upward to the perfect altitude for watching for the snitch. Fred and George flew to cruising height, then spun around to smash the bludgers. They warmed up like this, with Fred and George flying about, batting the bludgers, Ron, Alicia, and Katie shooting on Angelina, and Harry darting about after the snitch, for about ten minutes. They then returned to the ground, where they stretched out, for another fifteen minutes, while Oliver watched, impressed with the job Fred and George had done. After stretching, they mounted their brooms, and flew out of the stadium, just getting the feel for flying. They flew in a V, and Fred and George talked to
them about the game. They came back and laid around in the locker room until it was time to come out. None of them talked, too nervous to say anything. It was as if they were facing off in the European Youth Quidditch Tour (as it had been called) right now. Harry shut everything out, only focusing on the task ahead. He knew Malfoy was crap last time he played him, but he had probably been practicing for this day ever since the end his third year. And the broom rings only made the matter worse. And the ball. And the upcoming Marauder's run. And the dream he'd had. What his parents would have him do, how they'd want him to do his best, and how disappointed they might be if they saw him lose against these odds, even though they knew deep down that he could win. As he neared the pitch's center (A/N: I was reading this British soccer magazine today, right? Well, the first article I read talked about how well the players were doing on the pitch. Pitch? What? That's from Harry
Potter... I suddenly realized that a pitch was a field for playing sports, like soccer, in Britain. Can you believe it?! All this time I thought J.K Rowling had made up a word for the place that the quidditch players played over. How dense I am! Grrrr...), he suddenly realized how loud the cheers were, and he looked around to see the stands filled with students, all cheering madly. He entered the circle, and stood ready. The captains shook hands. George was shaking this game; Fred would the next (as if it mattered).
"Alright, children," Madame Hooch said, "On my whistle...three..."
Harry's heart pounded as he got ready to mount...
"Two..."
He thought of all that was at stake and how much he wanted to win...
"One..."
He thought of Cho...
The whistle blast came as Harry mounted his broom, and he streaked upward like a homesick angel. Upward, ever upwards, not daring to look back at what was happening, until he reached the right altitude. The students cheered loudly as Lee Jordan's voice boomed over the stadium,
"It looks like the Gryffindors are off to a brilliant start, with Katie Bell making a graceful pass to Ron Weasley. No Fred, I'm not making a pass on her, don't worry- er, look at that, another pass, this time to Alicia Spinnet..."
Harry scanned the field for the snitch. He wished the game were at 11 in the morning, like it normally was, so that the wisps of mist would have completely boiled away by now. They might mean the difference between victory and defeat, since Draco might see something that Harry couldn't. He watched as George made an excellent hit on a bludger, keeping a Slytherin from stealing the quaffle from Ron.
"...another pass to Alicia, and...wow! SCORE! Didn't see that one coming, did you Kris?" Lee jeered the Slytherins' captain.
It wasn't as bad as Harry had thought it would be. These broom rings weren't all...
"...A very nasty GHOUL scores. Yes, you, you ugly..."
"AHEM," McGonagall cut in.
"Crapper, the Gryffindor seeker is not. It'll be a tense game..."
Harry didn't see Draco. Just because the crowd was watching him for a few seconds, he made a split S. But as he came to the bottom of it, he saw a glimmer of gold. He came out of the loop and casually flew closer. Draco was coming towards it, but didn't see it. Harry suddenly couldn't take the pressure anymore, and turned into a sharp dive for the snitch, just as Lee shouted,
"SCORE, although I doubt that one was legal. Ben Dover, you Slytherin, take your punishment from the Gryphs like a man, er, oops, read the roster wrong..."
That was a really bad attempt at humor, Harry thought, which meant that what Harry wasn't seeing in the battle below was pretty grim. There was a gasp from the crowd as Slytherin scored. He was now coming into the thick of it, screaming towards the snitch, trying not to think of what might happen if Draco was on his toes. He was about ten broom lengths away when Draco overtook him, fast as a spell. Harry veered in surprise; right into the end of Draco's broom. He was knocked off course, and the snitch hit him in the face, then zipped off. Draco turned, but Harry was no longer there. There was a more hopeless gasp from the crowd as Slytherin scored again. Fred and George were doing superb bludger work, but it wasn't enough to combat the broom rings. The Slytherin beaters had hardly even hit the bludgers yet. Harry went upwards, then turned in the opposite direction, and dived down again, just in time to see a Slytherin beater finally contact a bludger, sending it point blank
at Ron. It smashed into his broom and rebounded into his thigh, while the beater, Darren, guffawed with giddiness. He had finally done something! Kris let out a whoop at the action. Fred sent a bludger right into the beater's midriff, while George sent the other head on into Kris's broom, moments after Katie entered the scoring area. She scored on a very shook up Kris. The snitch appeared again, and Harry shot toward it, while the crowd yelled, and Lee commentated madly at the almost-foul, excellent bludger work by the Weasley twins, and Katie's score all at once. The Slytherins retaliated with another barrage of shots on goal.
"Harry, we're getting slaughtered! Get that snitch! We don't have any time!" Fred pulled alongside Harry for a few moments to smash a bludger out of Ron's way.
Draco was coming in at an angle towards Harry's target, with the second Slytherin Beater practically right over the snitch. Harry was getting closer. So was Draco, with a conceited smirk on his face. Harry reached out, getting ready to grab the game ending snitch... there was a whoosh of air as the beater came downward, smacking the snitch with his bat, then heading off in another direction. The Snitch flew right at Draco, who grabbed it, and looked up at Harry triumphantly.
"You suck, Potter. Go see if you have anyone swooning over you now, you fool of a mudlood lover," Draco said, holding the snitch aloft. Harry just floated there. He couldn't believe it. Slytherin had won...
"Hold it! Do you honestly think I'm blind?" Madame Hooch was obviously having a word with Fred over how he'd let his bat "slip" out of his hand to narrowly miss Kris, and strike the goal rim.
"Snitchnip, you git!" Madame Hooch growled, right next to Harry. He watched with amazement as she seized the Snitch from Draco's hand and chucked it off. She yelled,
"Game's still on! Illegal snitchnip by Slytherin Beater! Play On!" She said, then gave a blast on the whistle.
Harry grinned sillily at Draco, then sped off again. Fred quickly scooped up his bat, and the game went on. The Slytherins, quite angered at their loss, played brutally, and scored two more goals in swift succession. Angelina was blocking 90 percent of the time, too. The Slytherins were just too fast. They hardly even aimed when throwing, the mere weight of numbers was on their side. The snitch was suddenly in a frenzy, everywhere at once, in plain view. Harry was right behind it, but so was Draco. He was faster, but there was one flaw with the broom rings; they didn't improve turning all that much, an area where the Firebolt excelled.
Harry followed the snitch everywhere, as Draco desperately tried to foul him, outmaneuver him, anything that could get him the snitch back. The Slytherins were on a scoring rampage, somehow managing not to foul anyone. They had obviously been working on that, thinking that they had nothing else to worry about. Harry got closer. The snitch was about two broom lengths in front of him, streaking for the Gryffindor goal. Draco was suddenly behind him again. They were not too far from the goal. The snitch seemed to be heading for the left hoop, for whatever reason. It was a broom length in front of him. He urged the Firebolt faster, with Draco hot on his heels. The snitch was almost in the goal hoop. Angelina was staring at Harry, startled and bewildered at what he was doing.
Draco was heading over the hoop to catch the snitch on the other side. Harry made a snap decision. The snitch went through the hoop. Harry followed, straight through the hoop, thrust his arm as far as he could reach, and grasped the snitch with his fingertips. It slipped out like a bar of soap. But his other hand came up. The snitch, as if deciding it had had enough, slowed just the tiniest bit, and Harry gripped it firmly, right as Draco flew over head, trying to snatch it away. A quaffle flew through the hoop, hitting Draco upside the head. The crowd let out its' breath, and cheered. Angelina came through the middle hoop, and pulled Harry close, as the rest of the team came over, exuberant.
"Final score: Slytherin: 160, Gryffindor: 170," Lee yelled, ecstatic.
Harry could hear the Slytherins protesting that a quaffle had gone through right before the game ended. He and his teammates came back to Earth, and walked off the field, in a sea of very excited Gryffindors. They went into the locker rooms, posting two prefects at the entrance to keep any over excited students out. When they were all sitting on the benches, each one done telling of how they'd seen the game, Fred and George said in unison,
"Good game."
They decided that was enough, and left.
As they all filed out, Cho ran up to Harry and hugged him.
"Oh, good job, Harry! Excellent flying!" she said.
"Thanks. It was close..."
"Yeah, I could see that. The way you went through that hoop. In fact, look, there must have been a sharp edge that brushed against your forehead, right here," She traced a line on the side of Harry's forehead where there was a thin cut. His hair covered it up, for the most part. It ran from the edge of his eye almost to his ear.
"Whatta ya know," he said.
"Ron! Are you okay?" Hermione had finally gotten through the crowd, helped by Seamus and Dean, who had elbowed their way through.
"Yeah, fine. It may leave a mark, but at least I'll be able to eat lunch, unlike Darren. They're probably still looking for his stomach on the field somewhere."
Harry walked slowly up to the main gates, talking with Cho. He had discovered that the game had gone on for an hour or so, much longer than he had thought.
Check next to the quidditch game, now for the Ball...