"He wants… Voldemort's body?" Harry said, his mind reeling with the possibilities of what this could mean. His face face suddenly rather numb and cold. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know." Hornell said. "He was just using my house, he didn't tell me about his plans. Like I said, I only know the vague details that I overheard in his conversations with Greyback's people."
"And you're sure about this?" Harry asked, feeling slightly desperate. "There's no possible way that you could have misinterpreted?"
Hornell shrugged. "I heard what I heard."
Harry turned and left the room without another word. His brain was screaming in a thousand different directions at once. Surely there was no way that Voldemort could be brought back to life… Such things were impossible, even for the strongest wizards. But then he remembered the other significant bit of what Hornell had said. 'An informant who he claims knows magic that's never been seen before.' Ron caught up beside him, but Harry still didn't say anything.
They walked in silence until they reached the Minister's office. They flashed their badges to the secretary keeping watch, who let them in. Fortunately, Kingsley was still there, poring over stacks of parchment. He looked up at them as the door entered, and flashed a warm smile. "Potter, Weasley. Rowedder's said you've settled in well, but it's good to see you for myself."
"I'm afraid that you'll probably think differently soon." Harry said bluntly. "We need to know what happened to Voldemort's body."
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "What's going on here, Potter? That's some sensitive information, you know. Not that you aren't qualified, but would you mind explaining what you're after here?"
Harry quickly filled him in on the night's events. As Harry progressed through his tale, Kingsley's face grew darker by the minute. "I see…" He said in his deep, measured voice. "This is a troubling development. But I don't think that we have anything to fear; the body is being kept under the highest security in the Department of Mysteries, under my direct orders. It's whereabouts are known only by myself, my most trusted Unspeakables, and now the two of you. It'll take more than a bit of werewolf muscle to get at it."
"Why wasn't it destroyed?" Harry asked. "If it's in the Department of Mysteries… Surely you aren't studying it?"
"Not by choice, I assure you." Kingsley said grimly. "But as all of our attempts to dispose of the body have failed, we have little choice. We still aren't sure if it was intentional, or just a side effect of his Horcruxes, or something else entirely. But as of yet, we haven't been able to destroy it. However, now that we know Death Eaters are after it, we can double up on security. Rest assured, they won't be getting. it. You've done good work today; go home and get some rest. I'll handle it from here."
They thanked Kingsley for his time and went on their way, still not entirely reassured. There were too many unanswered questions for either of them to be put at ease. Harry felt a bit nauseous; he had been sure that he'd finally be able to put an end to that chapter of his life. The idea of a second return of Voldemort was simply unthinkable; it filled him with a peculiar mixture of cold fear and white-hot rage. Hadn't he done enough to earn his peace? Hadn't Voldemort done enough to yield his right to continue existing? And to have to start over with a renewed sense of futility. Harry's mind forcibly drifted back to when he'd broken up with Ginny to avoid painting a target on her. No, he couldn't go through that again.
Harry knew that he was getting ahead of himself. By all accounts, they were now several steps ahead of Dolohov, and there was no real proof that he actually had a way to bring Voldemort back. Still, Harry couldn't keep these dark thoughts from circling around his brain, waiting for any idle moment to crop back up to the forefront.
Harry was tormented by his own thoughts until he reached home. As soon as he opened the door he saw Ginny lying on her back on the floor, tossing a weighted medicine ball and catching it. She was sweating from the effort, and her hair was sticking to her forehead. Still, she smelled as pleasant and flowery as ever, Harry couldn't help but musing. Suddenly, the potentially looming threat of Voldemort's return didn't feel quite so real.
"Oi, it's about time!" She said, snapping him back to reality. "You missed dinner. You could at least send an owl if you're going to be out this late!"
Harry couldn't help grinning despite himself. "You sound just like your mum."
Ginny's jaw dropped slightly. "Oh, damn, I do…" She didn't quite seem to know how to process this. Inexplicably, Harry thought back to their breakup, and the disturbing news came crashing back. It must have shown on his face, because Ginny shot him a concerned look. "Is everything alright, Harry?" She asked. "You're looking pale…"
"Just a long day at work." He brushed her off. There was no need to trouble her at this stage, he told himself. Especially when he knew so little in the first place.
She didn't seem completely convinced, but played along anyway. "Well, you'd better not have overworked yourself too hard. I don't care how sick you've made yourself, you're still coming to my match tomorrow."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Harry smiled. "But shouldn't you be in bed? It's getting late, and you'll want to be well-rested for tomorrow."
"Just finishing up my exercises." She said, leaning back and resuming with tossing the medicine ball.
It was now Harry's turn to be keep quiet; he'd played Quidditch long enough to know that physical exercise would do little more than make her a bit sore the next day, and that she would likely be better off with a light warm up to keep loose and a day of rest. More likely, she was too nervous to sleep and was trying to wear herself out. Harry briefly entertained the idea of trying to convince her to stop, but kew that it would be a vain effort. Instead, he sat down on the floor beside her.
"You do your crunches yet?" He asked casually, holding her feet to the floor.
She smiled gratefully and caught the ball a final time, instead pressing it to her chest to use as additional weight. "Thanks, Harry." She said. Harry settled himself in; having seen her workout regimen, he knew that they could be in for a late night.
By the time that Harry awoke the next morning, he'd convinced himself that he'd been overreacting the previous night. There was nothing that could revive the dead, and as Kingsley had said, Voldemort's body was far too well protected; especially now. Ginny also seemed cheerier than usual. Harry suspected that she was overcompensating for nerves, but knew better than to attempt to corner her into admitting so. Rather, he spent a good chunk of the morning helping her review plays.
"I hope Wood's right about this…" Ginny said. "I mean, it's the Falcons. They aren't exactly known for their finesse, you know what I mean?"
Harry thought on this for a moment. The Falmouth Falcons, who would be playing against the Cannons later in the day were certainly not known for their tactical precision. They took a distinctively 'might makes right' approach, which seemed to work for them quite well. They were known for brutally using their size and controlling games through aggressive fouling. They'd taken second in the League the previous season, and looked to be in good shape to repeat their performance. They would be quite a difficult match for the scrappy Cannons, who would be relying on intense practice and low expectations to counter their relative inexperience in the early season.
"You'll be fine." Harry said, loading up his plate with bacon. "These are good plays, and I know Wood. He wouldn't be trying if you guys couldn't pull them off."
"That's not really what I mean…" Ginny said. "What if they just don't bite? I mean, the only shot we have is misdirection. We don't have a chance if they see through our tricks. What if they just brute force us?"
If Harry hadn't known her so well, he wouldn't have been able to hear the worry in her voice. As it was, he could just barely pick it up under her determinedly casual voice. She didn't let her guard down more than this very often; it was actually quite charming.
"Then you'll just outplay them." He said simply. "Every strategy has a weakness, and they've gone all in on one strategy. Yeah, it's a good one, but somebody has to be able to counter it. And you guys have a little bit of everything. You've got the tools to get the job done, now you just have to find their weak point. And there's nobody better at that than Oliver Wood. You're on a great team, and you've got great instincts. You're going to be great."
"Hm… Right." Ginny said, smiling discreetly as she return to her studying with renewed determination.
The rest of the morning was spent in near silence as Ginny doubled down on her focus. Once she'd managed to force down a decent breakfast, she got up to leave, stealing a kiss for good luck and leaving Harry with a few hours to kill before leaving for the match. Standing up, he throught that he'd head to Ron and Hermione's place a bit early. He'd already planned to meet up with them so they could head to the stadium together, but he really wanted to discuss the events of the previous day as soon as possible.
Deciding that it was late enough in the morning to pay a visit, he said goodbye to Kreacher and set off. It took him some time to find the place; as he was leaving significantly early, he felt it would be rude to use floo powder like normal. The directions that Ron had given him weren't as helpful as they could have been. All Harry had to go on were some vague instructions about vaguely detailing entering an alley and giving a password, and the address '252 Belmont Street.' While Harry was quite confident in his ability to defend himself, he'd definitely prefer to avoid walking down London's shadiest alleyways giving passwords to trashcans if at all possible.
Finally, he found a place that seemed to fit the bill. The alley had all of the distinct hallmarks of having been enchanted: all of the muggles passing by seemed to be completely ignoring its presence, moving their eyes from one side of it to the other. Warily, he took his first few steps down the side street. It was actually surprisingly clean for a deserted London alley, and much more well-lit than he would have guessed from outside. At the end was a rusted steel door, covered in spray-painted graffiti. Among the various names and incomprehensible symbols, Harry could make out the word 'Belmont' in red paint. Somewhat proud of himself, he stated the password that Ron had given him (Falicorn). The door creaked open of it's own accord, revealing a hallway that stretched as far as Harry could see, irregularly dotted with oddly colored doors.
"Greetings." Harry was slightly startled by a smooth male voice that seemed to come from the ceiling directly above him. "Please state your name and the apartment number that you wish to visit."
"Harry Potter, for Apartment 252." Harry said.
"Thank you." The voice responded. "Pending the tenant's approval, you will be routed to their residence. Have a pleasant day."
Harry had to wait only a moment before the hallway started contracting, the doors zooming past him as they shrunk into nothing. Finally, they came to an abrupt stop, leaving him in front of a maroon door with the number 252 on it. Still reeling a bit from the sensation of having travelled a hundred yards without moving at all, he reached out an arm to knock on the door. Before he could, it was flung open. He was greeted by Ron, dressed in his most vibrant Chudley Cannons gear. He was wearing an audaciously orange shirt printed with the slogan 'Live by the Cannon, Die by the Cannon!' over his finest replica Cannons Quidditch Robes. His hat was an equally violent orange, and clashed fantastically with his hair. The overall effect was somewhat alarming.
"Morning." Ron said excitedly. "We going early? I've been telling Hermione that it'd be a good idea to get there early, grab seats and all-"
"To which I answered that we have perfectly good seats, and there would be no point at all." Hermione chipped in, appearing behind Ron. "Morning, Harry." She added brightly.
"Well, there's sometimes pre-game commentary, and a merchandise booth, and all kinds of other good stuff…" Ron said. "What do you think, Harry?"
"Actually, I need to talk to you guys here for a bit." Harry said. It kind of hurt to see the betrayed look on Ron's face, but he knew that they wouldn't be able to talk about classified Ministry investigations in the middle of a Quidditch stadium.
"Of course, come in." Hermione said, closing the door behind him. "I kind of expected it as soon as Ron told me what happened last night. How are you holding up?"
"Fine, I just need to pick your brains a bit." Harry said. "See if we can figure out what's going on, and what our next steps should be."
"I don't think we have much to worry about." Ron said. "You-Know-Who's dead, Dolohov just doesn't know when to give up. I reckon he went loony in Azkaban, and just doesn't know when to quit. But he's never going to be able to get that body, and the worst that he can do if he does is give it a nice burial."
"And Hermione?" Harry said, turning to her. She didn't look completely convinced by Ron's explanation.
"I don't know." She said quietly. "I don't think that there's any way that he could come back, but that doesn't mean that there's nothing that could go wrong."
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, not at all sure that he really wanted to hear the answer.
"Well, think about the first time that he came back." Hermione said. "You remember how it happened, right?"
Harry had few memories more vivid than the night that Voldemort returned. As he reluctantly relived the horrible night, the idea of what Hermione was getting at took form in his mind. "You mean the potion."
"Exactly." Hermione said. "Or something like it, at least."
Ron blankly turned his head back in forth to look at them. "I don't follow, what are you two talking about?"
"The potion that Voldemort used to come back." Hermione said. "The primary ingredients were the bones of his father, Wormtail's flesh, and Harry's blood." She said the last bit with revulsion. "I don't think it'd work a second time, not with the Horcruxes gone. But there are other potions out there that use body parts as ingredients, and they can be quite nasty. The practice is heavily restricted in most of the world, mostly due to the nature of gathering… 'ingredients,' so there isn't a ton of information out there. But if Dolohov really does have somebody with that kind of knowledge in his corner, it could mean trouble. And we can't rule out the possibility of Voldemort himself having left instructions behind. I just don't like any of this at all…"
"Right…" Harry said. She'd given him a lot to think about. While he didn't like anything she'd said either, there was something strangely comforting about the logic of what she was saying. At the very least, it gave them an angle to work. "So now, we just need to do something about it."
"Well, obviously it's best if we try to head it off at the pass." Hermione said.
"Yeah, that's always worked out so well." Ron quipped. He had a point; despite their best efforts, things always seemed to spiral out of control quickly.
"You know what I mean." Hermione said. "We protect the body, and catch Dolohov before he can do whatever he's planning. And by the sound of things, we might be able to get Greyback in the same move."
This idea was quite appealing to Harry; Dolohov had earned his spot as their first target because of what he'd done to Remus Lupin, but they'd lost friends to Greyback as well. The idea of getting both at the same time was enough to put a fire in Harry's chest.
"Yeah." Harry said. "We know Greyback has him, so we'll take a look at Greyback's movements next. Now, what do you say we head off to the stadium?"
"What? We still have hours before they take the field!" Hermione said. Harry knew that she was mostly going as a show of support for Ginny. She'd never been particularly interested in Quidditch, and the idea of sitting for hours with nothing to do but listen to them talk about players and teams was not her ideal Saturday. Still, Harry figured she'd signed on for this. Somehow. And besides, the team might take to the field, where Ginny would be able to pick them out from the crowd and take a moral boost. In fact, with the way Ron was dressed, they'd probably be visible from outer space. No, there was no helping it; they simply had to go early, Harry told himself.
Only a bit later, they were strolling along the field that served as the home arena for the Chudley Cannons. Harry found it somewhat reminiscent of the Burrow, with it's overgrown grass and shabby stands. Their seats were in a private box reserved for close friends and family, situated roughly at playing height. As they were quite early, most of the stadium was mostly empty, dotted by the occasional spot of orange indicating a diehard fan.
Harry settled into himself into his seat and prepared for the long wait; they were so early that the commentators hadn't entered their box yet, and the Cannons hadn't taken to the field for warmups. At the moment it was the Falcon's turn to use the field, and it appeared that everything Harry had heard about them was true. Even their seeker, normally the smallest and fastest member of the team, was built like a tank. Looking at them, Harry couldn't help but feel that Ginny may have been right to be a bit nervous. The Falcons definitely had an air of toughness that the Cannons had no hope of matching. Still, he took some solace in the fact that their play appeared somewhat direct, likely due to their limited mobility. He was sure that smart players would be able to outmatch them; he just hoped that the Cannons had been given enough time to prepare themselves.
His musings were interrupted suddenly by a voice behind them. "Hey, glad you all made it." Ginny stood there, fully decked out in her new Quidditch Robes. Her long red hair and robes clashed in the exact same way that Ron's did, but Harry found it stunning in a completely different fashion.
"Where'd you come from?" Ron asked bluntly.
In response, Ginny pointed at a door Harry hadn't noticed in the back of the box. "It connects to the locker room." She explained. "I'd just come up to check if these pricks were showing any signs of getting off the field yet. They were supposed to yield fifteen minutes ago. Gits. At least they're finally leaving." Sure enough, Harry saw the six black and silver clad figures grounding and heading toward the other side of the pitch. As if on cue, five orange figures emerged from somewhere below them. "I'd better get going, looks like Wood's about to blow a gasket." Oliver Wood was waving frantically at her, surely panicking over the thought of a minute's missed practice. She waved back to indicate that she was coming.
"Before you go, I wanted to tell you all something." Harry could tell that she'd been holding this in for some time until they'd gathered. "I'm being promoted!" She beamed.
"Does that mean you're getting a raise?" Ron asked bluntly, prompting a smack on the back of the head from Ginny.
"Knock it off." Ginny said, scowling at him. "That's great, Hermione." She said, ignoring Wood, who'd resumed waving her over already. "If anybody's earned it, you have."
"Well, it's a bit of a lateral movement." Hermione said. "But I'm going to be the head of my own department within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"Cool." Harry said. "So, what are you going to be doing there?"
"Well, the idea is to have a department that focuses on outreach to intelligent magical entities, and promote mutual understanding between them and the wizarding community. Think House-Elves, Centaurs, Mermaids, even Werewolves. The Minister agrees that they're under-represented in the Ministry. So we're forming what I'm going to call the Department for the Understanding of Magical Beings." She finished proudly.
"Er… Hermione." Harry said, having spotted a problem. "Is that name final?" Hopefully he could sort this out before Ron caught wind.
"Well, I put in the paperwork yesterday, so probably." She said. "Why, is something wrong with it?"
"It's D.U.M.B!" Ron roared with laughter, unable to contain himself. "You're going to be the head of D.U.M.B!" He fell out of his chair, and began to writhe with laughter on the ground.
"Oh, shut up." Ginny said, quickly silencing his laughter with a well-aimed quick from her Quidditch boots. "It doesn't matter if the name is a bit… Well, never mind that, what's really important is that- DAMMIT OLIVER, I TOLD YOU I'M COMING!" She screamed at the pitch, causing every head in the stadium to turn towards their box. "Honestly… I'd better get going. But wait until you hear who they've got commentating, this is going to be a nightmare." She continued mumbling under her breath until she disappeared through the door she'd come out of, quickly reappearing on the field with her broomstick in hand.
No doubt wanting to keep their playbook secret, the Cannons kept their warmup simple, only performing relatively basic passes and shooting. They used up their time and vacated the field before the crowd began showing up. In the meantime, Harry took a trip to the booth that sold team merchandise, grabbing himself a set of robes with Ginny's number, and a set that he planned to give Ron for Christmas (he'd known that Ron had always wanted a set of Cannons robes that had the name Weasley printed on the back, and he doubted that the finer details would matter). Returning to the box, Harry found that it had been filled out. Hermione and Ron had been joined by George and Percy; all four of them were scowling.
"Hey, what's going on?" Harry asked, fearing another row between them.
"The commentators have showed up." Hermione said simply, looking over at the box where they would be seated to view the match. She was saved from further explanation by the magically amplified voice that boomed throughout the stadium. Harry had heard it as he walked to his seat, but now that he was out in the open, he could clearly recognize the familiar voice.
"Alright, we're back with the latest from the oddsmakers, and they're predicting a Falcons win today, not that anybody should be too surprised." Said Ludo Bagman cheerily. Squinting, Harry could just barely make out his blonde hair and boyish face seated in the commentator's booth. His co-host was a very short man who Harry recognized from the poster's in Ron's room at the Burrow as Kenny Runnion, legendary retired Chudley Cannons seeker, and holder of the record for most Snitch Catches during losing games.
"I didn't realize that he was still around." Harry said. "I figured he must have gotten locked up or something." Ludo Bagman had been the head of the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports until he'd caught up in a number of gambling scandals, culminating in him going into hiding from Goblins that he'd been unable to pay.
"He's lucky that he's not." Hermione said angrily. "The Ministry used a lot of goodwill with the Goblins to get him out of trouble. Honestly, he's probably part of the reason that they were so passive when Voldemort took over." Harry supposed he shouldn't be too surprised by this news. Bagman had always been good at dodging trouble. At the very least, Runnion seemed to have his number. Harry gathered that they must commentate somewhat frequently, as they had something of a rapport.
"I wouldn't write them off just yet, Ludo." Runnion said. "We're looking at a scrappy young squad, and it's hard to anticipate what they're capable of."
"Bah, always the optimist." Bagman joked. "Not sure how you've kept it after playing with the Cannons for so long. But if there are two things that've always won matches for me, they're experience and muscle, and the Falcons outmatch the Cannons in both. But let's talk about the Cannons, because they do have an interesting lineup coming up. The Cannons surprised everybody by ditching their previous lineup in favor of new blood. What are you thinking about the new group so far?"
"They're interesting on paper, at least." Runnion said. "For those who don't know yet, they've taken the core of the team from the Gryffindor team at Hogwarts; they've got three of the last four team captains, and the teams that they've lead have all taken the cup. In fact, they've taken it for the last four years straight. Beating out the three in a row that you took for Hufflepuff, I might add."
"True, true." Bagman said. "But this is the big leagues we're talking about here. It's going to take something else to make it on this level, and I think it'll be clear pretty soon if they've got it. But I have to say that I like the chance that team's taking; you know that I can respect someone who takes the long odds. Now, looking at the lineup, we've got Keeper Oliver Wood at the helm. He posted good numbers in his Hogwarts career before joining Puddlemere United, where he only saw play in three games per season. After four years, he's dropped his contract with Puddlemere in favor of Chudley. League sources are crediting him as the mastermind behind this new gameplan. You liking the look of this guy, Kenny?"
"I do." Runnion said. "Wood's one of the harder workers in this league. So many young players nowadays take their talent for granted. Even as a reservist, Wood's been known to spend hours every day practicing. That's living for the game, and you don't see too much of that anymore. I think that Puddlemere is going to realize very quickly that they made a mistake benching him in favor of Redick. Especially if he can bring that fervor to this team."
"Right you are, right you are." Bagman said. "Never underestimate the power of a good attitude… Or a bad one. Which brings us to the Falcons. They haven't been afraid to throw their weight around with this lineup- quite literally. They led the League in fouls last year, and it seems to have worked out quite well for them. How do you think the Cannons stack up against that kind of force?"
"I'll say that I'm a bit worried." Runnion said. "The Falcons have perfected the art of fouling; and make no mistake, it is an art. They know when to give up a penalty throw to stop a play, and they know exactly how much they can get away with without ejections. They know that the other team can't make their penalty shots if they're seeing nine hoops. And they'll make it worth their while, too. They'll wear the enemy down with raw physicality."
"I see that being a big problem for the Cannons today." Bagman said. "They're definitely lacking size. Particularly Ginevra Weasley; at only five feet and four inches in her boots, she's not going to be able to fight through the contact that the Falcons are going to be throwing out. Kind of makes you wonder why they aren't playing her at Seeker. Her sheets show some experience and the position, and she really seems like she was built for it."
"Can't say I agree, Ludo." Runnion responded. "Look, there's no way that the Cannons are going to beat the Falcons at their own game. They're better off going small and speedy and avoiding the hits altogether."
"We'll see soon, because it looks like the players are ready to take the field!" Bagman said. "We're looking at a full house today, unfortunately, it seems like we might be in for a spot of rain." Harry thought it looked like more than a spot; heavy, black thunderclouds were rolling overhead, threatening to open up at any moment.
Harry barely listened as Bagman introduced the players; he was much more focused on keeping an eye on the Snitch as it was released. His efforts were completely in vain; it vanished into thin air the very second that it left the case that it had been trapped in. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was simply the distance he was watching from, or if his Seeker's instincts were beginning to rust. He made a mental note to buy a practice Snitch, just in case.
By now the crowd had become a sea of orange. Harry couldn't help but be impressed by the Canoon's ability to draw a crowd after over a century's worth of losing seasons. "And the captains are shaking hands…" Bagman said. "Keepers are heading to the posts, and the Quaffle goes up in three… two… one… They're off!"
Ginny's ThunderClap served her well, getting her to the Quaffle before anybody else. She quickly passed it off to Angelina Johnson and began charging toward the goalposts. Angelina tossed it underhand to the Cannon's third Chaser, a rather handsome and muscular young man named Kevin Oakley. Oakley jetted forward to pass to Ginny, who closed the final distance to the goalposts, pulling her arm back to shoot, and then-
"Oh, Weasley's stripped by Mullen, and headed back the other way!" Bagman shouted. "An attempted block by Johnson, but that won't work, it's only Wood left to go through now, and MULLEN SCORES! That's first blood for the Falcons!" There was a defeated, resigned sigh from the crowd. The next three plays went the same way, putting the Falcons at a forty point advantage.
"It really looks like the Cannons are having trouble finding their rhythm, and that makes a second turnover for Weasley. This game certainly isn't going her way." Runnion said.
"Not in the least." Bagman agreed. "This could end up being a cautionary tale for Oliver Wood about getting some experienced players over picking your friends."
"Let's not be too hasty, here." Runnion countered. "We're ten minutes into the first game, let's give them a bit of room to breathe, don't you think?"
"Of course," Bagaman said," I just want to point out that Weasley's quite well connected. Rumored to be dating Harry Potter, and not to mention that her brother owns the largest joke shop in the country-"
"Oh, come off it." Runnion said. "Still sore that you missed your opportunity to get in with the Weasley's on the ground floor while they were looking for funding?" Harry could tell that the comment was made in jest, but he viciously agreed nonetheless.
"Not at all, but with a performance like this, people are going to wonder. I haven't said anything that isn't going to be in the Prophet's recap of the match tomorrow." Bagman said.
As much as Harry hated to admit it, Bagman had something of a point. He silently wondered if Ginny was listening to the commentary, or if she could even hear it. The rain had started, and thunder was roaring in the distance. His question was answered as she passed overhead carrying the Quaffle. She didn't make eye contact, but he could make out the fierce, blazing look that she wore whenever she was particularly determined. It was the same look that she'd worn the first time she'd kissed him, and it had never disappointed him since.
"And Weasley's going for the posts again, looking for a good shot…" Bagman said. "Say, what's she playing at?" Ginny had paused several yards in front of the Falcons' keeper, and was spinning the Quaffle on her fingertip as if it were a basketball. She drifted lazily in front of the keeper, daring him to make the first move. "Well, you can't say she's not gutsy- and that looks like a drop-"
The Quaffle seemed to fall off of her fingertip in slow motion. The Keeper made a dash for the dropped ball, but Ginny had feigned the drop; she grabbed it back and made a fresh run at the now unoccupied goal.
"My goodness!" Bagman shouted. Now who could've seen that coming?"
Ginny took a victory lap over the crowd, pumping her fist in the air before returning to play. "Weasley's taken up guarding Mullen; that'll be an interesting matchup." Runnion said. "Mullen's of course well known for his ability to blast through defenses- I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"
For a moment, it appeared that Ginny and Mullen had collided in midair. It took Harry a couple slow-motion takes with his omnioculars to to figure out exactly what had happened. Ginny had rushed Mullen, who had clearly not been expecting this tactic from somebody so small. Taking advantage of his surprise, she'd managed to get a fist under the arm he'd been using to carry the Quaffle, punching it out. She extricated herself with a quick spin, managing to grab the loose ball. She lobbed it to Angelina downfield, who managed to grab another goal.
"This crowd is definitely coming alive now!" Runnion said. "I don't think I've ever seen this stadium so excited!" This was quite right; from the cheering, Harry would have guessed that the Cannons had just won the League Cup as opposed to just getting halfway to closing the opponents lead. All the same, Harry found himself cheering harder than anybody. As Ginny took a second pass overhead, Harry noticed that the vicious wind whipping her hair around and her determined face gave her a rather possessed look.
This sudden burst of scoring lead to a strong wave of momentum for the Cannons. They quickly overtook the Falcons lead, and had reached triple digits in no time. As they fell farther behind the Falcons began to display the rough play that they were so well known for. Their beaters grew more aggressive, and the chasers began tackling while on defense. It didn't seem to matter. The Cannons chasers were simply too fast and well coordinated. At one point, one of the Falcons beaters swung his bat at Ginny while she was charging the goal; she made a full three hundred and sixty degree spin on her broom and launched her shot behind her back before the referee's whistle, getting the goal as well as a penalty shot, which she effortlessly put away."
"That's one hundred for Weasley, with Johnson having sixty, and Oakley having thirty." Shouted Bagman, who'd completely changed his tone. "What a showing from the Cannons- the Falcons camp certainly can't be happening about this!" Harry had to agree. Not that he blamed them, but the Falcons players were all looking downright furious. Their captain waved for a timeout, and they grouped into a huddle.
"Helluva game, right?" George shouted over the rain. "I always thought that Ron was mental for liking the Cannons, who could've seen this coming?"
"And we're back- Falcons are in possession." Runnion said. "Ansell passes to Sloane, to Mullen, back to Ansell, she goes for the shot, and it's blocked by Wood. We stay at one hundred and ninety to forty."
Wood tossed the ball to Ginny, who passed it to Angelina to carry it down the pitch. Lightning flashed overhead, momentarily blinding Harry. As soon as his eyes readjusted, he saw disaster approaching.
"And Weasley's got the Quaffle," Runnion shouted. "Sloane's broken off of Johnson to Double team Weasley with Mullen, but she's having none of it- Weasley does a quick roll to try- Oh dear…"
Pinned down by two large defenders, Ginny had been unable to get a clean look for a pass. Instead, she'd attempted to roll in midair, using her torque to swerve around the opposing chasers. She was almost successful; Sloan had fallen for it, continuing straight ahead. But Mullen had seen her move coming, swerving with her. She was forced to abort her tactic mid-roll, sending her crashing into Sloane. She flew off of her broom at speed, landing about twenty feet away where she lay motionless in the mud.