Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's except for Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 11- Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw
It looks like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Each is so angry with the other that Harry and I can't see how they'd ever make up.
Ron is enraged that Hermione has never taken Crookshanks's attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hasn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and is still trying to pretend that Crookshanks is innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys' beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintains fiercely that Ron has no proof that Crookshanks has eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron has been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron's head in the Magical Menagerie.
I was personally protesting that my migraine that had been building from listening to the two of them was going to be the death of me. I've started taking cover and hiding from them in the library, the LIBRARY of all places! Do you know what this is doing to me?
Personally, Harry is sure that Crookshanks has eaten Scabbers, and when he tries to point out to Hermione that the evidence all points that way, she loses her temper with Harry too.
"Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!" she says shrilly. "First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it! Just leave me alone, Harry, I've got a lot of work to do!"
Ron has taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed. "Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," says Fred bracingly. "And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly — one swallow — he probably didn't feel a thing."
"Fred!" cries Ginny indignantly.
"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," says George.
"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron says miserably. "Remember, Harry?"
"Yeah, that's true," says Harry.
"His finest hour," says Fred, unable to keep a straight face. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"
"He's right Ron, Scabbers was old and he had a long good life." I tell him. Ron glares at me.
"You're saying that because you always agree with Hermione you never side with me!" Ron cries crossly. I glare at my friend.
"I'm not taking sides in this fight Ron for I think its stupid! Did the cat eat your rat? Possibly, cold someone else's cat have? Again likely, so shut up about it!" I snap annoyed with the whole situation.
In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry persuades him to come along to the Gryffindor team's final practice before the Ravenclaw match, so that he can have a ride on the Firebolt after we've finished. This does seem to take Ron's mind off Scabbers for a moment ("Great! Can I try and shoot a few goals on it?") so we set off for the Quidditch field together.
Madam Hooch, who is still overseeing Gryffindor practices to keep an eye on Harry, is just as impressed with the Firebolt as everyone else has been. She takes it in her hands before takeoff and gives us the benefit of her professional opinion. Personally I just think that she wants to have a broom like this.
"Look at the balance on it! If the Nimbus series has a fault, it's a slight list to the tail end — you often find they develop a drag after a few years. They've updated the handle too, a bit slimmer than the Cleansweeps, reminds me of the old Silver Arrows — a pity they've stopped making them. I learned to fly on one, and a very fine old broom it was too. . . ."
She continues in this vein for some time, until Wood says, "Er — Madam Hooch? Is it okay if Harry has the Firebolt back? We need to practice. . . ." I snicker before my gloved hand at the look on Oliver's face and Madam Hooch's.
"Oh — right — here you are, then, Potter," says Madam Hooch. "I'll sit over here with Weasley. . . ."
She and Ron leave the field to sit in the stadium, and the Gryffindor team gathers around Wood for his final instructions for tomorrow's match.
"Harry, I've just found out who Ravenclaw is playing as Seeker. It's Cho Chang. She's a fourth year, and she's pretty good. . . . I really hoped she wouldn't be fit, she's had some problems with injuries. . . ." Wood scowls his displeasure that Cho Chang has made a full recovery, then says, "On the other hand, she rides a Comet Two Sixty, which is going to look like a joke next to the Firebolt." He gives Harry's broom a look of fervent admiration, then said, "Okay, everyone, let's go —"
Luka has mentioned Cho Chang before. She seems like a pretty cool person. I guess that that they are pretty good friends even though she is a year ahead of him. And at long last, Harry mounts his Firebolt, and kicks off from the ground. I follow behind him quickly on my Nimbus 2000.
The Firebolt turns with the lightest touch; it seems to obey Harry's thoughts rather than his grip; it speeds across the field at such speed that the stadium turns into a green-and-gray blur; Harry turns it so sharply that Katie Bell screams, then he goes into a perfectly controlled dive, brushing the grassy field with his toes before rising thirty, forty, fifty feet into the air again —
"Way to be a show off boy wonder!" I shout as loudly as I can after my friend, but quickly turn back to the practice drills that Angelina, Katie, and I are supposed to be performing. I catch the quaffle in a roll, and make evasive maneuvers like I have a rival player on my tail, and dart to the goals.
My shot makes it in easily with no keeper at the moment. "Harry, I'm letting the Snitch out!" Wood calls.
Harry turns and races a Bludger toward the goalposts; he outstrips it easily, sees the Snitch dart out from behind Wood, and within ten seconds has caught it tightly in his hand.
The team cheers madly. Harry lets the Snitch go again, gives it a minute's head start, then tears after it, weaving in and out of the others; he spots it lurking near Katie Bell's knee, loops her easily, and catches it again. When Harry zooms past me he ruffles my hair, and he's gone before I can complain about it. Boy is that show off asking for it when we're back on the ground and I'm faster than him.
It is the best practice ever; the team, inspired by the presence of the Firebolt in our midst, performs our best moves faultlessly, and by the time we hit the ground again, Wood doesn't have a single criticism to make, which, as George Weasley points out, is a first.
"I can't see what's going to stop us tomorrow!" says Wood. "Not unless — Harry, you've sorted out your dementor problem, haven't you?"
"Yeah," says Harry, but he doesn't look positive.
"The dementors won't turn up again, Oliver. Dumbledore'd go ballistic," says Fred confidently. That would be true I know that for sure.
"Well, let's hope not," says Wood. "Anyway — good work, everyone. Let's get back to the tower . . . turn in early —"
"I'm staying out for a bit; Ron wants a go on the Firebolt," Harry tells Wood, and while the rest of the team heads off to the locker rooms, Harry strides over to Ron, who vaults the barrier to the stands and comes to meet us. Madam Hooch has fallen asleep in her seat.
"Here you go," says Harry, handing Ron the Firebolt.
"Careful, I'm not coming to bail you out of the high rises if you get stuck up there." I warm Ron, playfully slapping his arm, while leaning against my own faithful broomstick. Harry might have a flashy dream broom, but I have a history with mine, and until it becomes too old and not fast enough, then I'm not going to change it out.
Ron, an expression of ecstasy on his face, mounts the broom and zooms off into the gathering darkness while Harry and I walk around the edge of the field, watching him. Night has fallen before Madam Hooch awakes with a start, tells Harry, Ron, and me off for not waking her, and insists that we go back to the castle.
Harry shouldering the Firebolt, me with mine, and Ron walk out of the shadowy stadium, discussing the Firebolt's superbly smooth action, its phenomenal acceleration, and its pinpoint turning. We are halfway towards the castle when Harry, glancing to his left, sees something that startles him — a pair of eyes, gleaming out of the darkness.
Harry stops dead, his heart banging against his ribs.
"What's the matter?" I ask him. Harry points.
Ron pulls out his wand and mutters, "Lumos!"
A beam of light falls across the grass, hits the bottom of a tree, and illuminates its branches; there, crouching among the budding leaves, is Crookshanks.
"Get out of here!" Ron roars, and he stoops down and seizes a stone lying on the grass, but before he can do anything else, Crookshanks has vanished with one swish of his long ginger tail.
"See?" Ron says furiously, chucking the stone down again. "She's still letting him wander about wherever he wants — probably washing down Scabbers with a couple of birds now. . . ."
"Ron…" I groan getting ready to hit Ron with my broom which will only end up hurting us both in the end. Plus I'm starting to value my broom over him with all his endless anger and whining.
Harry doesn't say anything. I heave a sigh and try to control my frustration. We finally make it to the entrance hall and I say goodbye to the boys so that I can go take a shower and find Hermione to check up on her. She's not that much better than Ron these days, but no one can say that I'm not trying.
The next morning I'm down at breakfast with the rest of the team before Harry. I'm eating my breakfast enjoying some banter with Luka. He's convinced that despite the fact that Harry has a Firebolt and I'm playing chaser that Ravenclaw is still going to win. I tell him that it's all in his head and that he's finally losing his mind to all those books that his head has been stuck in.
I saw Ariana at the Hufflepuff table earlier and she had my uniform number painted on her cheek in red paint with a small lion on it. On her other one is the blue Ravenclaw wizard. I guess that the other one was to please Luka since his house is playing against mine today. I had beamed when I saw the paint.
Suddenly there is a commotion at the entranceway, and I look up to see Harry come into the dining hall with Ron, and the rest of the boys in his dorm flanking him looking like a royal guard. I roll my eyes at the dramatics that they're putting on. And they call us girls dramatic?
I'm pleased that the Slytherin team looks thunderstruck though. At least something good is coming out of the inflation of Harry's ego. "Did you see his face?" says Ron gleefully, looking back at Malfoy. "He can't believe it! This is brilliant!"
Wood, too, is basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolt.
"Put it here, Harry," he says, laying the broom in the middle of the table (I grab my organge juice before its knocked over) and carefully turns it so that its name faces upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables are soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory comes over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus, and Percy's Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asks if she could actually hold the Firebolt.
"Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!" says Percy heartily as she examines the Firebolt closely. "Penelope and I have got a bet on," he tells the team. "Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!"
Penelope puts the Firebolt down again, thanks Harry, and goes back to her table. "Harry — make sure you win," says Percy, in an urgent whisper. "I haven't got ten Galleons. Yes, I'm coming, Penny!" And he bustles off to join her in a piece of toast.
I feel someone come up behind me and look up to see Ariana standing behind me looking at the broom. "Nice broom Harry." Ariana says examining it closely. Harry smiles and thanks her.
"Though there's only so much that a broom can do. What really matters is the skill of the player." Ariana tells me softly so that no one else can hear. I turn around in my seat to face her.
"I'm not jealous that Harry has a better broom Ariana. He needs a faster broom to catch the snitch. I have some tricks up my sleeve so don't worry about it." I tell her with a grin gesturing to my Quidditch uniform sleeve. Ariana smiles at me and shakes her head chuckling.
"I don't doubt that Jame. I just thought I'd remind you anyway. Good luck today, though you don't need it." She tells me gesturing to her cheek with a light blush. With that she returns to the Hufflepuff table. I smile after her before turning back my attention to my breakfast.
"Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?" says a cold, drawling voice. Draco Malfoy has arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.
"Yeah, reckon so," says Harry casually. I seriously can't just have one meal in peace can I?
"Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" says Malfoy, eyes glittering maliciously. "Shame it doesn't come with a parachute — in case you get too near a dementor."
"Shame your broom doesn't actually give you skill Malfoy. If so then you'd actually become an acceptable player but maybe even that's a stretch." I shoot back at him.
"No one was asking for your opinion you traitorous filth." Malfoy snaps at me. I clench my jaw as Harry, Ron, Fred, and George jump up to defend me.
"How dare you?" Katie Bell growls. Angelina Johnson pulls out her wand from her robes.
"Guys its fine. Malfoy is just lashing out because he knows that I'm right. Besides my family is none of his business or anyone else's." I tell him staring him hard in the eye. Reluctantly the boys get back into their seats.
My fellow Chasers are still glaring at him hatefully. Malfoy's pale eyes narrow, and he stalks away. We watch him rejoin the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Malfoy whether Harry's broom really is a Firebolt.
At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team sets off for the locker rooms. The weather can't have been more different from our match against Hufflepuff. It is a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there will be no visibility problems this time, and though nervous I'm starting to feel the excitement only a Quidditch match can bring.
We can hear the rest of the school moving into the stadium beyond. "You know what we've got to do," says Wood as we prepare to leave the locker rooms. "If we lose this match, we're out of the running. Just — just fly like you did in practice yesterday, and we'll be okay!"
We walk out onto the field to tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, dressed in blue, are already standing in the middle of the field. Their Seeker, Cho Chang, is the only girl on their team. She is shorter than Harry by about a head, and I can't help noticing, nervous as he is, that she is extremely pretty. She smiles at Harry as the teams facing each other behind their captains, I groan beside him.
NO NOT HARRY TOO! WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THE WORLD! "Wood, Davies, shake hands," Madam Hooch says briskly, and Wood shakes hands with the Ravenclaw Captain.
"Mount your brooms . . . on my whistle . . . three — two — one —" I push off from the ground and start zooming down the field to the Ravenclaw goals since Angelina has won the quaffle. She dodges behind a few of the Ravenclaw chasers but is forced to pass it to Katie. Katie does an impressing turn about, and fires the quaffle to me. I catch it, and instantly perform a roll to throw off a beater.
Lee Jordan is commentating this game again, and a small smile tugs onto my face. "They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship —"
"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" interrupts Professor McGonagall's voice.
"Right you are, Professor — just giving a bit of background information — the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and —"
I fire the quaffle at the top hoop, and the keeper rises to catch it, but he misses, and I score. The crowd roars into applause and I zip right back onto defense before Angelina gets the quaffle again and we return for another goal scored by her.
"Jordan!"
"Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal . . ."
I grin at the success that we're having. I dodge around a bludger that was hit at me. "Sorry Jame!" George calls out flying past me in chase of the wild ball.
"Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now, see it turn — Chang's Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolt's precision-balance is really noticeable in these long —" Jordan says.
"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!" McGonagall roars.
Ravenclaw is pulling back; they have now scored three goals, which puts Gryffindor only fifty points ahead — if Cho got the Snitch before Harry, Ravenclaw would win. I push myself harder to get possession of the quaffle and work with my teammates.
Suddenly I hear, "HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!" Wood roars as Harry swerves to avoid a collision. "KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!" I chuckle to myself thinking that Harry will never do that especially since he likes her.
Suddenly in front of me are three tall, black hooded dementors. My heart skips a beat in fear. I'm not ready for that. I swerve at the last second, but my foot rams into one of their heads, and I hear a loud yelp of pain and a curse. Wait dementors don't curse.
"Wait…" I start but it's too late. Harry has shouted a spell and a huge silver white shape comes out of his wand and hits the three not so fearsome dementors. Thankfully Harry catches the snitch as well. Oh Merlin we are still in this thing!
Madam Hooch's whistle sounds. Harry turns around in midair and sees six scarlet blurs bearing down on him; next moment, the whole team is hugging him so hard he is nearly pulled off his broom. Down below I can hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd.
"That's my boy!" Wood keeps yelling. Angelina, Katie have both kissed Harry; Fred has him in a grip so tight Harry feels as though his head will come off. In complete disarray, the team manages to make its way back to the ground. I get off my broom and look up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supporters sprinting onto the field, Ron in the lead. Before we know it, we have been engulfed by the cheering crowd.
"Yes!" Ron yells, yanking Harry's arm into the air. "Yes! Yes!"
"Well done, Harry!" says Percy, looking delighted. "Ten Galleons to me! Must find Penelope, excuse me —"
"Good for you, Harry!" roars Seamus Finnigan.
"Ruddy brilliant!" booms Hagrid over the heads of the milling Gryffindors. I grin when I turn around and see Ariana standing there a yellow figure in a sea of grin, and she pulls me into her arms for a victorious hug.
"You played great Jamie! I knew you'd win." She tells me with a big grin. My brother appears next to her and gives me a grudging grin.
"Well played Pendragon. In this case the better team won. Don't think that we won't come back next year though! I'll see you back up at the castle." Luka tells me squeezing me into a hug.
"Oh my!" Ariana says pointing at something behind me. I turn around to look at what has her attention. I stare not sure what to think. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground are Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team Captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes.
It looks as though Malfoy has been standing on Goyle's shoulders. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, is Professor McGonagall.
"An unworthy trick!" she is shouting. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"
"I knew they were stupid but I didn't think they were this stupid." I tell Ariana dumbfounded. I noticed that Malfoy was rubbing his head, and I couldn't help but grin knowing that I had kicked him accidentally. The git deserves that for scaring me.
If anything could have set the seal on Gryffindor's victory, it is this. Ron, who has fought his way through to Harry's side, doubles up with laughter as we watch Malfoy fighting to extricate himself from the robe, Goyle's head still stuck inside it.
"Come on, Harry, Jamie!" says George, fighting his way over. "Party! Gryffindor common room, now!"
"Right," I say, and feeling happier than I have in ages, Ariana bids me goodbye, and the rest of the team leads the way, still in their scarlet robes, out of the stadium and back up to the castle.
It feels as though we have already won the Quidditch Cup; the party goes on all day and well into the night. Fred and George Weasley disappear for a couple of hours and return with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.
"How did you do that?" squeals Angelina Johnson as George starts throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.
"With a little help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," Fred mutters in my ear. I grin at him. Of course they went to Hogsmeade.
Only one person isn't joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, is sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles. I break away from the table where Fred and George have started juggling butterbeer bottles and go over to her.
"Did you even come to the match?" I ask her.
"Of course I did," says Hermione in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. "And I'm very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday." My eyes widen at hearing that number.
"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," I say, looking over at Ron and wondering whether he is in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet.
"I can't, Jamie. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" says Hermione, now sounding slightly hysterical. "Anyway . . ." She glances over at Ron too. "He doesn't want me to join in."
"What about me Hermione. I want you to join in, and I actually played in the match and helped the team win. He just sat in the stands." I say slightly whining to get my best friend to join us.
There was no arguing with the fact that he's upset with her though, as Ron chooses this moment to say loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them —"
Hermione bursts into tears. Before I can say or do anything, she tucks the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, runs toward the staircase to the girls' dormitories and out of sight. I turn on Ron, and a wide eyes Harry furious. "You gigantic hippogriff's arse! Just let the stupid rat go! You are becoming a gigantic git and I don't think that I can stand being friends with you if this keeps going on, so GROW UP Ron!" I shout at him gathering the attention of everyone.
The party stops and everyone looks at us. "No," says Ron flatly. "If she just acted like she was sorry — but she'll never admit she's wrong, Hermione. She's still acting like Scabbers has gone on vacation or something."
"Then you're stupidity is going to lose you two friends." I tell him flatly. With that I spin around on my heel, and race up the stairs to our dorm. I throw open the door to our room, and follow the sounds of Hermione's sobs to her bed. I lie down next to her and rub her back soothingly until she is ready to talk to me.
Boys… they always know the perfect way to end a great day.
That night I'm woken up from a good dream of locking Ron and Hermione in a closet together by the sounds of multiple yells coming all the way from the boys dormitory. Hermione is still sound asleep from crying herself to sleep. I get out of bed and slip my slippers onto my feet and start down the stairs to the common room, and Katie and Angelina shortly join me.
"Excellent, are we carrying on?" says Fred Weasley brightly. Boys are in the common room as well looking just as sleep ragged.
"Everyone back upstairs!" says Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he speaks.
"Perce — Sirius Black!" says Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"
The common room goes very still. My cheeks pale and my hands start shaking. He's back? Angelina puts her hand on my arm comfortingly, and pulls me into her side to stop the panic attack that I feel coming. I'm thankful to her.
"Nonsense!" says Percy, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron — had a nightmare —"
"I'm telling you —"
"Now, really, enough's enough!" Professor McGonagall is here. She slams the portrait behind her as she enters the common room and stares furiously around.
"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"
"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" says Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare —"
"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yells. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"
Professor McGonagall stares at him. "Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"
"Ask him!" says Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw —"
Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushes the portrait back open and goes outside. The whole common room listens with bated breath. I start shaking more. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"
"Certainly, good lady!" cries Sir Cadogan. There is a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.
"You — you did?" says Professor McGonagall. "But — but the password!"
"He had 'em!" says Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!" I start shaking like a leaf in the wind now. Angelina leads me over to a chair and pushes me into it softly. She kneels down next to me worriedly, and holds my hand.
"Its going to be okay Jamie. You'll see." Angelina says trying to reassure me but not sounding so sure herself.
Professor McGonagall pulls herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She is white as chalk. That's how I'm sure that I look, but I'm too busy trying to keep from freaking out.
"Which person," she says, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"
There is utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes, raises his hand slowly into the air.
I still and stare blankly into the distance now fully trapped by the fear that I've been trying to fight off. If he can get into the school and into the tower then Harry's not safe. We're all not safe.
"Professor, I think that Jamie needs to go to the hospital wing." Angelina calls out worriedly to Professor McGonagall. What's the point of that? Sirius Black now has an all access pass to Harry and our lives.