Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays
I do not own Bleach or Harry Potter the both belong respectively to Tite Kubo and J.K. Rowling
Two weeks later a lively energy returned to the students as the first Quidditch match of the season drew near, the always much anticipated Gryffindor vs Slytherin. With the Quidditch Cup never being held for so long, everyone was eager to see if this was the year that ended Gryffindor's winning streak. Even the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretense of sportsmanship, were determined to see their side's victory. Harry realized how much Prof. McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match.
When someone asked why the sudden reprieve she told them "You have enough to assignments to work on". Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, "I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Prof. Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won't you?"
Snape was no less obviously biased: He had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When one of their Chasers, Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast that they obscured her vision and covered her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-Thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eyewitnesses who insisted that they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.
Harry felt optimistic about Gryffindor's chances; they had, after all, never lost to Malfoy's team. Admittedly Ron was still not performing to Wood's standard, but he was working extremely hard to improve. His greatest weakness was his tendency to lose confidence when he made a mistake; if he let in one goal he became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more.
On the other hand, Ron could make some truly spectacular saves when he was on form.
During one memorable practice, he had hung one-handed from his broom and kicked the Quaffle so hard away from the goal hoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the center hoop at the other end. The rest of the team felt this save compared favorably with one made recently by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland's top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski. Even Fred had said that Ron might just make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting that he was related to them, something he assured Ron they had been trying to deny for four years.
The only thing really worrying Harry was how much Ron was allowing the tactics of the Slytherin team to upset him before they even got onto the pitch. Harry, of course, had endured their snide comments for more than four years, but Ron had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers, and intimidation.
Eventually October gave way to November's cold chill, and with it the day of the long-awaited match. That morning Harry woke to find Ron sitting in his bed in the fetal position, staring blankly into space.
"Are you ok?" Harry asked, concerned for his friend.
Ron simply nodded quietly. Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the time Ron had accidentally put a slug-vomiting charm on himself. He looked just as pale and sweaty as he had done then, not to mention as reluctant to open his mouth.
"You just need some breakfast" Harry said bracingly, pulling Ron to his feet. "Get dressed and let's go.
Unfortunately, the rousing welcome they received at the Gryffindor table – where everyone wore their house colors in support – did nothing to raise Ron's spirits. He practically collapsed onto the nearest bench looking as if it were his final meal.
"I must've been mental to do this" he said in a croaky whisper. "Mental."
"Don't be thick" Harry said firmly. "You're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous."
"Who's nervous?" Ginny asked, as she and Hermione joined them, both decked out in red and gold scarves, and gloves.
"Ron's nervous."
"Well, that's a good sign" said Hermione. "I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous."
"I'm rubbish" Ron said dejectedly. "I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life."
"And that's a bit too nervous" said Ginny. "Ron, you're my brother and I love you, but if you don't stop attacking yourself, I'll do it for you."
"I don't think your Bat Boogey Hex is the way to go this time, Gin" Harry weakly laughed. Not that it seemed to matter as Ron didn't even bother to respond to his sister's threat, preferring to stare into his bowl of cereal, looking as if he was considering trying to drown himself in milk.
"Hello" said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them.
They turned to see Luna Lovegood, who was sporting a hat shaped like a life-sized lion's head, that was gathering more than a few strange looks. "I'm supporting Gryffindor" she said, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. "Look what it does…"
Luna reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.
"It's good, isn't it?" she said happily. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway…good luck, Ronald!"
Then she was gone. They hadn't quite recovered from the shock of Luna's hat before Angelina came hurrying toward them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey.
"When you're ready," she said. "We're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."
"We'll be there in a bit," Harry assured her. "Ron's just got to have some breakfast."
However, it soon became clear that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Harry thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. As they rose from the table, Hermione took Harry aside.
"Don't let Ron see what's on the Slytherin's badges" she whispered urgently.
Harry gave her a questioning look, as he wasn't aware of any Slytherin badges, but Hermione didn't want to elaborate, instead pushing him towards Ron, who was in the middle of receiving another pep talk from Ginny, but it didn't seem to be working, judging from the desperate and lost expression on his face.
"Just trust me, Ron" Ginny groaned, getting tired of her brother's self-depreciative attitude. "You'll do great."
But while both Ginny and Harry failed to break through Ron's doubts, Hermione had the perfect solution. With a soft smile on her face, Hermione stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ron on the cheek.
"Good luck, Ron…and you, Harry" she added hastily, cheeks blushing.
While this did knock Ron out of his funk, it also left him in a daze, as he touched the spot where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he wasn't quite sure what happened. It was still an improvement in Harry's opinion, as he led him out of the great hall.
With Ron too distracted by the kiss, Harry decided to take a cursory glance at the Slytherin table, as they passed, noticing silver crown shaped badges on quite a few of their robes. He could just make out the words: WEASLEY IS OUR KING.
Knowing that couldn't mean anything good, Harry hurried Ron across the entrance hall, down the stone steps, and out into the icy air.
Angelina was already changed and addressing the rest of the team when they arrived. Quickly pulling on their robes, Harry and Ron pulled on their robes, and sat down to listen to Angelina's pre-match speech, while outside the humming of voices steadily grew louder, as the crowd came pouring out of the castle toward the pitch.
"Okay, I've only just found out the final lineup for Slytherin" said Angelina, consulting a piece of parchment. "Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left now, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them…"
"We do," said Harry and Ron together.
"Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from another, but then again I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way onto the pitch without signposts."
"Crabbe and Goyle are the same" Harry assured Angelina.
They could now hear the sound of hundreds of footsteps climbing the stands. Some people were singing, though Harry couldn't make out the words. Concerned, Harry glanced at Ron, who was clutching his stomach and staring into space again, looking as pale as a ghost.
"It's time," Angelina said in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. "Everyone, good luck."
The team rose, shouldered their brooms, and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight. A roar of sound greeted them in which Harry could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles.
The Slytherin team were standing waiting for them. They too were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new captain, Montague, was built with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry's eye and smirked, tapping the crown shaped badge on his chest.
"Captains shake hands" ordered the umpire, Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. Harry could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though to her credit she didn't wince. "Mount your brooms…"
Madam Hooch blew her whistle releasing the balls, and the fourteen players took to the air. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron streak off toward the goal hoops, as he zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and started a wide lap around the pitch, searching for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing the same.
As he searched, Harry listened as hard as he could to Lee Jordan's commentary, through the wind whistling in his ears, and the noise of the crowd, all yelling, booing, and singing.
"…dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger – close call, Alicia – and the crowd is loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
And as Lee paused to listen the song rang loud and clear from the Slytherin section of the stands:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing,
Weasley is our King
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.
"…And Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, trying to drown out the singing. "Come on now, Angelina – looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! – SHE SHOOTS – SHE – aww…"
The Slytherin Keeper had saved the goal. He threw the Quaffle to one of the Slytherin Chasers, Warrington, who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder the closer he came to Ron.
Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
Harry couldn't help himself; abandoning his search for the Snitch, he turned his Firebolt toward Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goal hoops while the massive Warrington pelted toward him.
"…so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team – come on, Ron!"
Warrington took his shot. Ron dived wildly to intercept, arms wide, but the Quaffle passed between them and straight through Ron's center hoop.
"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron…"
The Slytherins sang even louder:
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN…
"…and Gryffindor back in possession and its Katie Bell tanking up the pitch" Lee valiantly cried, though the singing, now so deafening that he could hardly be heard above it.
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING…
"HARRY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Angelina screamed, soaring past him to keep up with Katie. "GET GOING!"
Harry realized that he had been stationary in midair for more than a minute, watching the progress of the match without sparing a thought for the whereabouts of the Snitch; horrified, he went into a dive and started circling the pitch again, searching around, trying to ignore the chorus now thundering through the stadium:
WEASLEY IS OUR KING,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING…
Harry couldn't find any sign of the Snitch. Fortunately, neither could Malfoy, who was still circling the stadium just like Harry. As they passed each other midway around the pitch – In opposite directions – Harry heard Malfoy loudly sing:
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN…
Harry's blood boiled, as he had no doubt that Malfoy was the mastermind behind the cruel song. And as Lee announced another Slytherin score, Harry hated to admit it but it was effective. Still there was time for Gryffindor to turn things around, as long as he found the Snitch before too long.
Then as if the universe loved tormenting him, Harry's combat pass went off alerting him to the presence of a Hollow.
Not now, Harry mentally cursed. He didn't want to abandon the game, especially with how the Slytherins' song was getting to Ron. Be he also couldn't very well put a game of Quidditch over his job as a Soul Reaper.
In the end, there wasn't any choice at all. Steering his Firebolt towards the goal posts, Harry stopped by the dejected Ron.
"Hollow" Harry said urgently.
"You can't just go" Ron pleaded. "I'm completely rubbish. We need you."
"Ron, I'm going to make this quick. Ignore them. I've seen you play dozens of times, you can do this."
"But…"
"Ron! Look if you start getting nervous, just think of something else!"
Not wanting to waste any more time, Harry swallowed his soul candy, leaving Mick in charge of his body, flash stepping away before anyone in the stadium could see his Soul Reaper form.
But in his haste, Harry had forgotten that Mick had never flown a broom before. Something made evident as the mod soul's broom started jerking uncontrollably, reminiscent of Harry's first game.
Ok, ok. I can do this Ron told himself, now more nervous than ever. Mick wasn't likely to catch the Snitch, leaving it all on him to keep the Slytherin team from pulling too far ahead.
Following the spiritual pressure, Harry appeared inside the Forbidden Forest. Upon his arrival, he found the centaur colony surrounded under attack, by Hollows of various shapes and sizes, all hungering for their souls.
Wasting no time, Harry drew his black zanpakutō and struck at the closest monster, cleaving its head clean off, before it could make a meal of a centaur child.
"Harry Potter!" Firenze cried out, relieved by the Substitute Soul Reaper's appearance.
"Firenze, get everyone out of here!" Harry commanded.
While the rate of Hollow attacks had been increasing, this was the largest one he had ever seen. Harry couldn't risk using his more destructive abilities with the centaurs around.
Firenze wasted no time in gathering up the centaur child, helping him to escape with the rest of their colony, leaving Harry to face the Hollow swarm. Drawing Nakatsukasa's second sword, the Substitute Soul Reaper leapt into the fray, his deadly blades slicing effortlessly into the Hollows.
Piercing skulls, severing limbs, Harry moved across the battle field as if performing a deadly dance, the results of his training in Karakura Town were shining through, for even against the Hollows' seemingly endless numbers, the monsters failed to so much as touch him – unable to match his speed and power.
All the better as Harry tried to remain mindful of causing too much damage to the Forbidden Forest least he drives the very creatures he was saving from their homes.
Sorry Ron, this is going to take a while.
"Something seems to be wrong with Potter. Either that or he's trying a new style of flying, because I don't think I've ever seen a Seeker nearly get hit in the head with a…wait, Katie Bell of Gryffindor has the Quaffle. She dodges Pucey, ducks Montague – nice swerve Katie – and throws to Johnson" Lee Jorden called out.
While the game went on, Ron was panicking. Harry was gone, Mick was a terrible flyer, he was doing a lousy job as Keeper.
Ron just hoped that Harry would hurry back before Malfoy found the Snitch, because Mick certainly wasn't going were lucky Madam Hooch hasn't called a penalty yet.
"Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Angelina…"
But what if Harry gets back and it's too late to make a difference. If the Slytherins pull too far ahead, it'll be my fault. Harry and the team will hate me. Fred and George will never let me live it down. I'll make a fool of myself in front of the entire school. What was I thinking? I can't play…
Ron's panicked thoughts were broken as he heard Luna's lion hat roaring, amidst the Gryffindors' cheers.
"GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle…"
Ron breathed a small sigh of relief as Gryffindor got on the score board. Thinking that maybe they could hold out until Harry's return, and he wouldn't have to worry about letting the team down. But then it happened: Goyle aimed a Bludger at the back of Mick's head, driven to protect Harry's body, the mod soul instinctively swung his arm out - knocking his fist into the iron ball – and much to (nearly) everyone's surprise sent it flying
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!"
"PROFESSOR!" Lee Jorden exclaimed, both in response to Prof. McGonagall's uncharacteristic outburst, and to the inhuman display of strength seen from who they believed to be Harry Potter.
Then as if things weren't crazy enough, in a move that could only be described as cartoonish, the Bludger, Mick knocked away ended up crashing into a golden flicker of light of the Snitch, with enough force to shatter them both on impact.
"Um, guess Harry's been working out" Lee said weakly. "Does anyone know the ruling for a busted Snitch?"
After some rather aggressive negotiations between the Gryffindor and Slytherin captains, Madam Hooch stepped in, and ruled that the game would be decided by an unprecedented penalty shot competition.
Each teams' Chasers would be allowed five shots against the opposing team's Keeper, the winner would be determined by the final score.
For Gryffindor to have a chance at winning, Ron couldn't afford to let even one goal past him. Which did nothing to help his nerves.
I can't do this. I can' t do this. I can't… Ron was having a complete mental breakdown. Locked in a daze he only vaguely acknowledged Lee Jordan announcing the new score of fifty – forty with Gryffindor in the lead. Now it all came down to Ron.
Ron's nerves went into overdrive as the Slytherin Chasers took their formation. Then for reasons he couldn't explain, his eyes ran over the Gryffindor section of the stands, taking in their anxious looks before focusing on Hermione's face.
As he took in her features, he found not the unease present in the others. Instead he saw faith and belief in him, she believed Ron could do this. That made all the difference for Ron, as Malfoy started to lead the Slytherins in another performance of their song:
WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING,
HE CANNOT BLOCK A SINGLE RING,
THAT'S WHY THE SLYTHERIN'S ALL SING:
WEASLEY IS OUR KING.
It suddenly didn't seem to matter to Ron anymore. With this change, came clarity. Suddenly it was like Ron could do no wrong as the Slytherin Chasers took their shots, he saved every one with apparent ease, blocking the last one in style, with him hanging one-handed from his broom, kicking the Quaffle so hard away from the goal hoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the center hoop at the other end.
At that moment, Harry returned to his body, just in time to join the Gryffindors in their boisterous cheers for the unexpected turn around from Ron. Harry and Ron shared wide grins as the Gryffindors broke out into a song of their own:
WESLEY IS OUR KING,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING,
HE DIDN'T LET THE QUAFFLE IN
WEASLEY IS OUR KING
After the game, Umbridge tried to have Harry banded from Quidditch for illegal use of magic, much to his confusion. But when he was checked for any spells or potions that would've explained the display of strength during the game, they found nothing – leaving the bitter toad wallow in her failure at such a petty tactic.
Though confused as to why he was being examined, during the celebration, Ginny took the time to fill him in.
"He did what?" Harry laughed.
"I'm serious" said Ginny. "Mick completely shattered them both. The school's going to need to order some new supplies."
"Guess, I shouldn't put Mick on a broom again."
"No, you should not. Still at least it worked out."
Ginny nodded to where they could see Ron as the center of attention, happily accepting praise from his teammates and fellow Gryffindors.
"I think Hermione was right" Harry said suddenly.
"About what?" Ginny asked.
"Maybe doing my job and being on the Quidditch team is too much. I missed most of the match today because of a Hollow. It's probably going to happen again too."
"So, you're quitting?"
"Think I might have too. I can't put Quidditch before being a Soul Reaper."
Harry didn't like it but he didn't see any other way. He knew there would have to be sacrifices when he chose to regain his powers, Quidditch was just going to have to be one of them.
"Angelina's not going to like that" said Ginny.
"No, but I'm sure you'll be up to the task" Harry replied, catching Ginny completely off guard. "You're a great flyer. You'll make a perfect Seeker. Let's let Ron have his night, I'll tell Angelina tomorrow."
Just then the portrait hole opened, as Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room, a grin on her face.
"What's got you so happy?" Ginny asked.
"Hagrid's back" Hermione replied, smiling brightly.