.
So far... Ron was taken by Sirius Black but after Dumbledore returns him, he reveals that Sirius was innocent. The real criminal is Peter Pettigrew in hiding transfigured as Ron's rat Scabbers and now fled. Meanwhile, Cynthia is again unfit to play Quidditch. Unfortunately, although Gryffindor might win the coming match against Slytherin, they are so far behind on aggregate points, there's no hope of winning the House Cup. Now read on...
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Chapter 21
Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 8
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~~~ A New Team ~~~
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Harry was exultant because with Cynthia unfit, he was certain of a place in the match. And now it was known that Sirius Black was not a threat, he was free to go outside unaccompanied by a teacher. He departed the castle secretly with Ron, and sometimes Ginny, to practise and train on his Firebolt soon after first light most mornings. The experience of freedom when he took to the air was a great joy to him.
"Woohoooo!" Harry streaked breathlessly past his friend. "Ron!" he cried, "If we don't make a big show of it, nobody will notice what broomstick I'm riding when it's half-covered in robes, will they?"
Ron was more doubtful and shouted back, "But don't push it so hard, Harry."
Harry pulled back alongside Ron's school broom, breathless with jubilation. "Y- yeah... wheh- well," he panted, "we'll save that for an important match next year. For the dead match I'll just nudge it enough to make sure I get the Snitch."
"And Harry, use a school broom in team practice or they'll notice for sure," said Ron anxiously. "It only takes one careless word..."
"Damn it, Ron... Yeah, I guess you're right," said Harry, a tad grumpily.
"So... my go now?" pleaded Ron.
"Erm..." Harry sighed. "Okay, sure, but Ron..." They glided down to a smooth landing and exchanged brooms.
"What?" said Ron, in the remote voice of someone who had treasure in his hands and wasn't interested in any other distractions around him.
"Take it up high out if sight if you're want to see what she can really do!"
Ron was running his hands across the polished wood as he settled himself into position.
"Ron?"
"Yeah — go high and fast. Got it."
As Ron rocketed skywards, Harry could not help but think these were the very best of times. The tedium of History, the stress of Potions, and the frustration of Transfiguration — all were pushed to the back of his mind along with the demoralisation that the Dursleys caused him when at home. He was young and free, and now flying gave him a sense of power over his environment that he had never experienced before. To ascend above the world's dangers and difficulties gave him an impression of untouchability and empowerment.
The pair of them had a lot of fun with the extra practise each day, but while Harry's eagerness soared, Oliver Wood's enthusiasm sank and his spirits were clearly at their lowest ever. He was not interested in winning this single match. The current year had been his last chance of winning the Quidditch Cup and now that was out of the question he was simply going through the motions. Most of the players were grumbling about him during the next official training session but two of the Gryffindor chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were particularly annoyed with him.
"We're here to compete, Oliver!" said Katie, as they all trudged towards the pitch. "I say we go all out to get as many points as possible. That's the Gryffindor way."
"For what purpose?" said Wood. He flicked a tiny tuft of dried grass off the shoulder of his robe. "We'd be unlikely to get a half-dozen Quaffles past their wall of defenders. Now if it was a level playing field and scores were even to start with and if we had Cynthia, then we'd have a chance of winning the game by getting the Snitch first."
"But Harry's looked very promising in practice," protested Angelina.
Harry, with Ginny, further back down the column of players, and trying to listen in to the discussion at the front, walked a little straighter and gave his girl a sideways grin.
"It's real matchplay that counts and he's been dismal so don't expect too much against Slytherin; they've got Malfoy as Seeker," responded Wood gruffly.
"But there was a storm last time — and Harry was riding Ol' Soggy — the school's worst broom!" cried Katie, coming to an abrupt stop and holding up the march.
"Does it really matter anymore?" snapped Wood, and he pressed on towards the pitch without them. Harry and Ron and Ginny exchanged glances. Fred and George were muttering to each other.
"Well if that's how you feel then why bother playing!" Katie shouted after him.
"Okay by me," he called back. He stopped suddenly and turned around. There was a tired look around his eyes as he walked back to the others.
"Yeah, good idea actually. Stick Weasley in as Keeper. The Slytherins won't be doing much attacking, if any; all their men will be down their end of the pitch."
Ron's eyes flashed in delight and he fist-pumped the air. Harry clapped him on the back.
"But you're captain! You can't just walk away!" cried Katie.
"Can't I? Watch me," said Wood, and he brushed past Katie and stomped off back to the changing rooms. He called over his shoulder, "You're captain now, Katie, captain of a certain-to-lose team. Good luck with that."
The team stared after him. Alicia shouted, "Good riddance!"
"Seconded," said Fred.
"Thirded," said George.
"He must have wanted the cup real bad for so long," said Ron, "but still..."
"Seven years dreaming of it — I guess it hit him hard," said Ginny.
There was no dispute over who would be captain and they all huddled around Katie, looking at her expectantly.
"Right! New strategy. We hunger for every point we can get no matter what the final result. That's what real champions do." She thumped her chest with her fist. "If we go out, we go out fighting! Right Gryffindors?"
There was a great roar from the team and so began the day's practice in much higher spirits than when they had first set out.
Much to Hermione's annoyance, Harry and Ron and Ginny talked of nothing else all day but Quidditch. Harry eventually settled down that evening in the common room with Ginny studying the official rulebook. Fred and George snickered.
"You can throw the rules away, Harry; we're playing Slytherins," said George.
"If you want to study, try this," said Katie, hefting a large book on Seeker's tactics onto the table he was sharing with Ginny. It was a late night for them both but at least there was less homework at this end of the year now that exams and tests were out of the way.
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~~~ Points ~~~
On the day of the match, Harry felt very shaky at breakfast but Ron was surprisingly relaxed. "It's not like there's a huge pressure on us two, is it, Harry?" he said. "They won't be attacking me much and you'll easily get the Snitch first on the Firebolt. It's up to the Chasers to get as many points as possible to save face. They're going to have work really hard."
As they left the Great Hall, Katie approached them. "Ron, you're biggest enemy will be boredom and lack of focus so stay alert. Don't let in any surprise goals. Remember, every goal we can get off them will be hard won so don't waste them."
Ron nodded. "No worries. If I even see a Slytherin up my end of the pitch I'll be so astonished it'll wake me up."
"It's no joke!" snapped Katie.
"Okay, okay! Don't worry. I'll stay sharp."
"Harry," continued Katie, "You MUST remember, don't let Malfoy near the Snitch. DON'T grab it yourself until I signal you. However, whatever you do, do NOT do anything reckless just so we gain points or we lose the whole match. Got it?"
Ron exploded with laughter. "Harry Potter? Do something reckless?"
Katie frowned. "Got it, Harry?"
"Got it. Delay Snitch to gain points but not recklessly."
Katie nodded.
"How many points advantage you hoping for, Katie?"
"If you can delay Malfoy for a couple of hours then maybe we can get a hundred and fifty plus the same for the Snitch. If we can win the game convincingly it will make up a bit for losing the House Cup."
"Three hundred to fifty! That's the spirit," laughed Fred, rolling his eyes. "Nothing like being optimistic."
"Maybe if we can Bludger a couple of their defenders," said George.
"There'll be none of that," said Katie sternly. "We'll play fair and square. You're job is to defend our team and keep the Bludger within the vicinity of their defenders. While they're dodging and weaving they can't defend as well so it'll give us chances to score."
George muttered under his breath at Fred, "By 'vicinity' she means less than one millimetre, right?"
"I thought she said 'velocity', George."
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~~~ Ace Up The Sleeve ~~~
Once the others had left, Ginny and Hermione went with Harry and Ron up to the boys' dormitory to get the Firebolt.
Ginny's excited expression fell away. "Harry... you've still not got a proper bed?"
"What? Oh, yeah, that..."
Hermione frowned. "Harry, you must speak to McGonagall."
Harry was shaking his head. Ginny looked a bit upset.
"Hermione... you're not thinking of going to McGonagall, are you?" said Harry.
"Someone should! Honestly, Harry, you really have to—!"
"Shut it, you lot!" barked Ron. "Leave it for another day. We've got a match to play!"
Hermione scowled darkly at Ron but after a few moments she nodded. Ginny kept staring at the blankets in Harry's corner of the chamber.
"So... are we going to stand around all day, or what?" said Ron.
"Erm... right," said Harry. "Watch the stairs then, Ron, in case anyone comes up."
He quietly retrieved the Firebolt from his school trunk and Ginny's attention turned then from Harry's sleeping corner to the precious broomstick. Harry held it up like treasure from a long lost tomb. They all fell silent. There was an atmosphere of almost ceremonial reverence as Harry handed it over to Hermione.
"Be gentle with it, Hermione," he whispered.
Hermione rolled her eyes then, taking out her wand, steadied herself for an unusual incantation. She flourished the wand up and down the Firebolt, muttering as she did so. When she had done, the broomstick looked aged: its long bristles were now uneven, grey, and shabby.
"Sorry, old girl," whispered Harry, stroking the end of the broom handle affectionately like a horse's neck.
"And you're sure its performance is not affected?" said Ron.
"No, I told you, it's just camouflage," said Hermione. "But remember, don't leave it about after the match because the charm will only last three or four hours."
"More than enough," said Ginny.
"Then let's do it!" said Ron.
The pitch was brightly lit by the morning sun which Harry knew would make the Snitch easier to see but the crowd was dull apart from the Slytherin supporters; they roared with laughter when they saw that Harry was playing Seeker.
"What've you brought that firewood with you for, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "Don't you know we play Quidditch on real broomsticks?"
There was a buzz going around their team and certain looks that made Fred and George very suspicious.
"They're planning something, Katie," said Fred. "I can smell it."
"Why would they? They're certain of winning the cup."
"They want to rub our noses in it — they want the match as well," said Fred. "Our Chasers have to score. That's our only hope of winning the match and of saving face with a decent number of points. If they want to humiliate us, that's where they'll strike."
"Well it's your job to defend us Chasers, isn't it?" said Katie.
"I'm just saying, be extra careful," said Fred.
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~~~ The Cup Match ~~~
The twins foresight proved correct. Madam Hooch was refereeing and keeping a close eye on everyone. There was no score on either side during the first fifteen minutes. The Slytherin Chasers and Beaters all hung well back forming a near impenetrable barrier while Malfoy flew high looking for an early Snitch. Harry trailed him and kept close watch.
"Keep up, Potter," sneered Malfoy, from well above and forward of Harry. "Tell you what, when I see it, I'll give you a hundred yards start!"
Occasionally the Quaffle was hurled up to Ron's end of the pitch but there was no serious follow through attack; the Slytherins were using delaying tactics, confident that Malfoy would get the Snitch first. The crowd of spectators grew restless. The commentator, Lee Jordan, yawned audibly into his megaphone and was glared at by McGonagall.
Even the Slytherins seemed to have relaxed their guard when Malfoy suddenly made a dive for the far side and, though he had not sighted the Snitch, Harry swooped after him. Flint and Warrington were gazing idly across at them and a vulnerable opening had appeared between them. Quaffle in hand, Alicia streaked through the gap. Abruptly, her broom was dropping like a stone and she was hurtling forward without it. Flint was grinning and Fred said afterwards he was sure he saw him slip his wand back under his robes. George was nearest and bombed after Alicia as she arced downwards, squealing her terror. Katie screamed at Madam Hooch for a timeout.
Alicia and George hit the ground together with a thud. George's broomstick saved the worst of their fall but Alicia was out of it, lying on her back, moaning with pain. George could see her arm was twisted at a very strange angle. He himself was bruised and shaken but Fred pulled him to his feet and he nodded.
"Dislocated," pronounced Hooch grimly. "Hospital wing for you, Spinnet"
"Can't you fix it?" said Katie anxiously. "Surely it's—"
"Can't use healing spells in Quidditch," she said firmly.
"What about the Muggle way?" said Harry. "I've seen a dislocation pulled back into place."
"Tissue damage. Too painful. She can't play on."
"Right — we're putting Ginny Weasley in as substitute," said Katie.
"You can't put in substitutes for injured players, Bell," smirked Flint, the Slytherin captain, who was keeping a close eye on proceedings. "You should know that."
"He's right," said Madam Hooch. "You'll have to manage with six players once we've got Spinnet out of the way." She signalled to Filch in the stands.
"Think you can do it, Harry?" groaned Alicia between gritted teeth. "The Muggle way, I mean?"
"It won't make any difference," snapped Hooch. "You're obviously not able to play on."
"I can try," said Harry. "You sure about this? It'll hurt like hell."
Alicia muttered, "Just do it."
Madam Hooch frowned when Harry requested a towel and showed Alicia how to bite on it. He crouched down at her head and took hold of the offending arm and shoulder.
Hooch sighed. "You'll do more damage than good, Potter. She's not going to be able to ride a broomstick anyway."
Taking a firm grip, Harry rotated her arm then tried to ease it back into the shoulder joint. The girl's muffled screams were continuous while he worked it but he knew the movement and made it brief.
"Done, I think," grunted Harry. "But you can't use it."
He ripped part of her robe across and knotted it around her back to pin the limb across her chest as a rough sling.
Alica's face was shining with sweat; George used the towel to wipe it for her. "Get me on my broom."
"You can't!" Flint grinned as if at some secret joke. "You've touched the ground during play. You and Weasley are out!"
Katie was about to protest but Hooch spoke first. "Timeout was called before they hit the ground. They can play."
Flint scowled then shrugged his shoulders, swung his leg over his broom and took to the air again. Fred and George helped Alicia onto her broomstick but she was grimacing with pain and had to hold on with one hand.
"It's not going to happen, Alicia," said Katie, ruefully. "Sorry, nice try."
Alicia whispered something to her and Katie's eyes opened wide with surprise. She nodded slowly then spoke to the others.
When play resumed, the Gryffindors held back evasively for many minutes, protecting Alicia from further attacks. The Slytherins swooped and hollered and laughed their derision. "Wanna give it to us now, Bell!" roared Flint.
"Harry, will the pain ease off in a bit?" called George with a worried look on his face.
"Afraid not. It'll take days for the damage to heal," called Harry as his eyes anxiously swept the skies for the Snitch.
"Then where'd you see that trick done? Somebody at Muggle school got his arm done in?"
"Yeah — me!" shouted Harry, and without warning, he rocketed upwards as something glinted high near the sun.
"Substitute!" cried Katie, raising her arm to signal to the referee.
Hooch blew her whistle.
"We're bringing on Ginny Weasley."
Hooch nodded. The Slytherin team shrieked their disapproval but Hooch shouted them down. "It's a fair substitution for a flying player."
"But Spinnet wasn't really playing!" yelled Flint. "She couldn't even hold the Quaffle!"
"She's on her broomstick and she's up in the air. I call that flying," said Hooch.
There was nothing the Slytherins could do about it. Ginny was brought on and Alicia despatched to the hospital wing amidst a round of respectful applause from the Gryffindor supporters.
Harry and Ginny grinned at one another but Fred and George were more cautious. "Watch yourself, Ginny. They play rough."
"So do I!" snarled Ginny, "Let THEM watch themselves! Here comes a Weasley!"
The Slytherins were unable to play the same tactic twice and Katie managed to break through and score the Gryffindors first goal to much applause from the stadium. But Ginny and Angelina struggled to get past the Slytherin blocking tactics. The proximity of the Bludger kept near their defenders by the twins made it awkward for the Gryffindor Chasers too. To add to the confusion, Harry, seeing a near miss on Ginny, flew in, spinning around at high speed around the Slytherin blockers and scattering them. The Slytherin spectators booed; even the Gryffindors groaned. "Why'd they put Potter in as Seeker?", "Get a clue, Potter!", "Get a brain and get some height, bozo!"
"Potter! What the Merlin's arse are you doing!" cried Katie. "Get back in position! If Malfoy grabs the Snitch we're done for!"
But amidst the mayhem, Angelina had swept through and scored. The crowd erupted with screams of delight.
Seeing their defence in disarray because of his manoeuvring, Harry called out, "Let me try one more time, Katie! I've got everywhere covered. I can do this and I don't think I'll miss spotting the Snitch before Malfoy does."
Katie shook her head. "No way!"
But Harry had already corkscrewed into the thick of the scrimmage and his strategy seemed to promise dividends for it invoked disarray and confusion in the opposition. The Slytherins could not understand why his agility so exceeded their own, and now had to not only avoid the Bludger but Harry also.
"If that's a school broom I'll eat my wand," snarled Montague at Flint. "I think he's found a nippy old Nimbus 1700 in someone's trash."
Katie and Angelina scored twice more each then Ginny got her first.
After another hour and eight more goals down, Flint raced around to find Malfoy. "What are you playing at Malfoy! You should have got the ruddy Snitch by now!"
Malfoy glared back at his captain. "If I'd seen it I'd have got to it first, wouldn't I? Potter's not got any idea where to scout."
"Have you seen his mobility, though? We reckon that's an early Nimbus!"
"No matter how fast he is, he won't catch me while he's faffing around over there will he? The chances of the Snitch showing itself in the melee is low and as for catching it in all those twists and turns..."
Flint scowled but after another hour and five more goals lost, he decided to change things. "Montague, it's a tough Snitch — you've got to move forward and score."
"What's the bloomin' use of that! It'll just weaken our defences more!" cried Montague.
"Just do it, Montague!" roared Flint. "They've got nearly two hundred points and we've got nothing! Even if we get the Snitch — but suppose Potter gets it? I'm not bothered about losing this match now but we don't want to lose three-hundred-and-fifty to nil, do we!"
"But they can't get the Snitch with Potter fooling around like a prat can they! You know that!" shrieked Montague in frustration. "And anyway, we get the cup; there's no way they can get six hundred points!"
But Flint swore ferociously at him and Montague yielded, swerving away after the Quaffle with a resigned look on his face. However, working singly, he did not have much success against the three Gryffindor Chasers. When he eventually made a dash, Ron was over-eager but still managed to block Montague's attempt with an instinctive tilt.
Midday had long since passed and the afternoon sun bore down on the players and the spectators alike. The Slytherins called for a timeout and everyone took the opportunity to fetch snacks and drinks from the stall.
"Our luck is bound to run out eventually," said Katie to Harry as she wolfed down a sandwich. "I want you back on patrol after the break."
"Katie, I'll let you into a little secret — but tell NOBODY, right?"
Harry showed her his broomstick and whispered in her ear. Her eyes bulged with astonished delight. "You're kidding me, right? A real Fireb—?"
"Shush!" whispered Ginny.
"You knew about this?" said Katie. Ginny nodded.
"Even so, there's no way you can get to Malfoy in time if the Snitch shows up in any of his quarters. He's got height, Harry. He's covering all the high ground and he can dive to the far quarters before you can get there. You're only hope is in the unlikely event that the Snitch shows up in your vicinity and you're not distracted doing somersaults and loops around their defence."
"Look, trust me, I know what I'm doing. I've watched Malfoy and I know how to distract and block him. I reckon I've got a good chance of getting between the Snitch and him if it shows. Anyway, we want as many points as we can get, don't we? It's working so far. You said yourself that we can't win the cup but at least we can trounce them in this match. Think, Katie! We rub their noses in the dirt!"
Katie looked thoughtful then called the team together. "It's clearly a tough Snitch today. How's everyone holding up? Harry reckons he's got a good chance to stop Malfoy when necessary. I'm inclined to go with him but only..." There were groans from some but Katie went on to emphasise, "...but only for the time being! Does everyone feel fit enough to go another hour?"
"My backside already feels like the floor of an owl cage, Katie," protested Fred. "We've been scraping for four hours. If you can substitute bums then fine for another hour."
"I just think of the Slytherins and all that extra weight pressing down on their brooms," said Ron. "They must be on fire."
"That is a consolation, I must admit," said Fred.
The girls were staring at the Weasley boys. "Surely you're using Star Grass?" laughed Ginny.
"Do what?" said Fred, blankly.
"Star Grass Salve," said Katie. "Honestly, guys are so dumb sometimes. Here, borrow mine. In fact, keep it. I don't think I want it back after you've used it."
"Here?" said Harry, nervously.
Ginny laughed. "Go behind the stands then. We don't want to watch."
The boys found a dark, shaded spot, a canvas alley connecting the stadium to the spare equipment area. But Harry had an uneasy feeling they were being watched anyway.
"Ron, did you see something over there?"
"I've got other things on my mind right now, Harry," said Ron, tentatively massaging in the salve. "Where?"
"Over there. I thought I saw something dark moving... Looking at me..."
Fred turned to George, "Amazing how Ginny sneaks around, isn't it?"
Harry yelled and hopped around hoisting up his pants much to Fred and George's amusement.
After play resumed it was more than another hour and still the Snitch had not been sighted. The Gryffindor boys were exhausted but at least comfortably soothed upon their broomsticks. Not so the Slytherins who were looking very haggard and weary.
"They don't know," grinned Fred as he watched Flint, wincing with pain, trying to ease himself up off of his broom. "This is the best day of my life — win or lose!"
But they weren't losing. Ron was inspired. A lot had depended upon him now that the opposition were attacking but he had only let in four goals all the long afternoon. The Gryffindors were cheering him on and now Ginny scored again. The crowd waved. They were weary but they waved and cheered hoarsely.
"Gryffindor leads by three-hundred-and-eighty points to forty!" croaked Lee hoarsely into his megaphone.
"We can do this!" mouthed an astonished Katie Bell to Angelina as the realisation finally dawned on her that the Quidditch cup — the actual cup not just the match — had become a possibility. "We need another twelve goals."
She soared around looking for Harry and found him zooming up beneath Bole who had to suddenly angle upward to avoid being tipped.
"Harry, you must think about the Snitch," she cried in a dry, cracked voice. "We need twelve but the Snitch is vital now. They're flagging but if we can hang in and get the twelve goals it's for nothing if you can't get the Snitch."
Harry shook his head. "Don't worry, As soon as the Snitch shows itself, I'll be there."
Katie began to wonder if he was still nervous of winning but she was much too weary to chase after him and argue. She took a pass from Ginny and spun around to throw it high up through the nearest goal hoop. A bleary-eyed Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, didn't even see her so low down.
"Gryffindor Scores," murmured Lee, faintly, and his eyes started to close sleepily. McGonagall gave him a nudge.
As if that was not enough to demoralise the Slytherin captain, Hermione's enchantment now collapsed, and Harry's broomstick's brand-spanking-new polished surfaces and long, crisply-manicured twigs reappeared.
Flint stared in disbelief. "He's got a... Potter's got a..."
Warrington completed saying what Flint was unable to. "Firebolt! It's a bloody Firebolt!"
Flint panicked after that and reversed his entire strategy. They abandoned their focus on defensive tactics and tried to play a normal game. He and his other two Chasers went into attack mode against the Ron Weasley defence with some success — but they paid a heavy price and double the goals in the next hour went to Gryffindor. Ginny was gaining more support from the spectators who were no longer seeing her as a second-rate substitute. In contrast, the Slytherin spectators were flagging. Whoever won, this was not the quick, resounding humiliation they had come to watch.
Without a word, Derrick, one of Slytherin's Beaters, spiralled down to the ground. He was aching so much he could not swing his leg off so had to let his broomstick fall down between his legs to the turf. He was still too stiff to even step over it and had to waddle to the end. He abandoned it there and walked, pole-legged and dazed, away towards the cool, welcoming shadow of the castle. George swore he saw his trousers smouldering.
Half of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw spectators had drifted away for their early evening meal; the remainder were mostly standing to stretch their legs. Katie kept glancing anxiously around for the Snitch, ready to shout a warning to Harry but he seemed too busy enjoying running rings around their opponents. She was too fatigued to think clearly. When the Quaffle presented itself to her from a tired-looking Ginny, her thinking was almost too muddled to remember what to do with it.
"Come on, Gryffindor for Merlin's sake!" came a feeble cry from the stands.
"Come on... anybody," came an even weaker cry from one of the few remaining Hufflepuffs.
"Throw it, Katie!" shrieked Ginny but her voice was dry and cracked.
Katie leaned into her broom and swept forward. The Slytherins defences had all but crumbled and Bletchley was lifting himself off his broom by hanging onto the far right goal hoop. Katie almost haversacked the Quaffle in a short, tired lob through the left hoop.
She looked pleadingly across at Harry who at last relented and nodded back at her. He was aware that Gryffindor's aggregate points for the season were now only one-hundred-and-fifty below Slytherins. They needed one more clear goal and the Snitch to win. Harry tilted his Firebolt skywards...
Malfoy, utterly exhausted but still clinging to his broomstick, saw Harry's move and was revived enough to whirl after him. Harry kept his pace slow and let Malfoy catch up, lazily swinging around the outer perimeter but climbing on each pass. But Harry wasn't looking for the Snitch; he was keeping his eyes on Ginny who now had the Quaffle.
Far below he could see most of their Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw supporters had rejoined the Gryffindors at the stands, still a little weary but refreshed by a good meal. Montague had somehow stolen the Quaffle from Ginny and drawing on his last reserves he threw himself into a sustained attack upon the Gryffindor hoops. But Ron seemed resolute. He flung his broomstick around in a desperate effort to thwart Montague and the bristles of his broom swatted the Quaffle from the Slytherin's hand. It soared in an arc straight to George who headed it into Ginny's waiting arms.
The Gryffindor supporters roared their approval at this Weasley manoeuvre. They watched Ginny weaving about as she streaked up the field, passing the Quaffle back and forth to Angelina but covered closely by all three Slytherin Chasers who, no longer hindered by Harry's Firebolt, were falling back to defend their hoops. Their single remaining Beater had effectively given up and had made little contribution to the game for twenty minutes.
Harry watched from above as Fred and George launched an attack on Flint who was blocking Ginny. Harry couldn't quite see from his height but it seemed that the Bludger might have clipped the back of Flint's broom bristles and caused him to lose control. Harry's eyes flicked sideways. Where was the Quaffle, now? Then he sighted it in the crook of Angelina's arm. She braked and swerved abruptly and thrust it through the air back towards Ginny. Warrington clumsily intruded and it glanced off his shoulder. Ginny heaved over to intercept the Quaffle's new trajectory, almost botched the catch, but finally managed to trap it against her body with one arm. She charged past Warrington then curved in for the kill. Bletchley now zigzagged forward, trying to distract her and gaining coverage of his hoops.
Harry didn't watch the rest. One glance told him Malfoy was staring down at the drama far below. Harry searched the open space around but could see no one.
He heard the distant roar of the Gryffindor supporters and he glided forward, his eyes back on Malfoy slightly below and behind him. Draco's head tilted up. Harry saw his expression change; saw the look of greed in his eyes and the tip of his broom slant as he accelerated upwards.
Harry looked behind himself. There it was: the Golden Snitch.
Spinning his broom around, Harry went after it but the Snitch was diving to avoid being caught between him and Malfoy who was now the nearer of the two fliers. Both hurtled down after it.
Harry kept pace behind Malfoy as they bombed down to the centre of the court. He could see Draco's frantic glances back at him and almost hear the abuse that was lost in the howling slipstream — then he ripped past Malfoy before the centre stand, became shockingly aware of all the attention directed at him as he was plucking the Snitch out of the air and... he fumbled it. The crowd groaned and booed: he was the centre of attention with nowhere to hide. He grabbed clumsily at the Snitch again, had a finger on it, but again, it eluded him. It rose, it fell. He kept with it, clutching and losing it until finally... he held it aloft to make sure Hooch could see it.
The roar of delight from the crowd and his team then assailed his popping ears and he coasted over to Ginny and the rest of the team to congratulate them. He didn't remember landing but he never forgot the pitch invasion and being surrounded by the shrieking, yelling, backslapping, hand-shaking multitude who were showering praise upon the Gryffindor team. Ron was raised high on several shoulders and passed along, all glorying in his performance. Ginny was swamped for her final score. Even Harry's odd tactics and clumsy catch were forgiven and he got a few sympathetic backslaps of his own. He cringed inwardly. Perhaps he could become a Beater in future instead, he thought to himself. After all, it was Fred and George who diverted Flint to help Ginny score the winning goal, and Ron who had held the fort all day.
And yet... why did he feel an inner glow that was not entirely due to just winning match and cup? Admiration was a sensation new to him but it conflicted with an intense desire to hide away from all the attention. Attention was usually painful; invisibility meant safety. It was hard to shake off a lifetime of harsh conditioning.
The Slytherin team and spectators looked utterly demoralised by their humiliating defeat. Professor Snape, who had watched the last hour with increasing irritation and disgust showing in his face, muttered something that was lost in the hubbub of the crowd and strode away back to the castle — though not without a threatening glare at Harry. Harry's sigh was knocked out of him by a surprisingly hearty backslap from Professor Trelawney who appeared delighted by the result.
"I knew you would do it, of course," she said as she staggered away into the crowd. "One cannot always be certain of the precise hour but..."
The Gryffindor Team marched into the Hogwarts hospital wing to share the trophy with Alicia Spinnet whose courageous sacrifice had made it possible. Nor was Cynthia forgotten because Harry presented her with a chocolate Easter egg left over from the holidays. Madam Pomfrey resigned herself to being unable to quell the exuberance of the students and allowed them twenty minutes of celebrating, particularly since the head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall, was rejoicing with them.
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~~~ Confession ~~~
Later, In their dormitory, as they were preparing to retire for the night, Ron cautioned Harry not to take such a chance again. "This was a special case. It could just as easily have ended in tears. I didn't fall for that rubbish you told Katie. If the Snitch had shown itself earlier then nine times out of ten Malfoy would have reached it first. The Firebolt is fast but it isn't a Portkey. It's not like you to take such risks."
"There was no risk at all," said Harry as he gingerly pulled on his pyjamas. Star grass or not, he was still rather tender in certain places. "The Snitch couldn't have appeared earlier."
"Course it could... why not?"
"Because," whispered Harry, leaning forward and with one eye on Neville, Deane, and Seamus's sleeping forms at the other end of the chamber, "it was in my pocket."
Ron's mouth gaped open slackly.
"But I saw... I saw... Everyone saw you catch it, Harry!"
Harry grinned and watched Ron's expression.
"You... caught it twice? Merlin! Harry Potter caught the Snitch twice! Are you totally Barking mad or what?"
"I caught it in the first half hour — just before Ginny came onto the field."
"But they have flesh memories, Harry! Didn't you know? If anyone checked you'd be in such trouble you'd probably be—!"
"Flesh memory is used to test who got the Snitch first — like if two Seekers grabbed at it together or one Seeker grabbed it from the opposing Seeker. There was no reason for anyone to check but if they had, then they'd find that particular Snitch was touched several times by Harry Potter."
"You fumbled it on purpose?"
"Of course I did! I'm not that clumsy! Ruined the Snitch though." He grinned at Ron, leaned over to his jeans which were draped across his trunk, then pulled out the limp-winged Snitch. It lay fluttering weakly between his fingers. "Hooch felt sorry for me; she gave it me as a souvenir."
"But it's cheating, Harry!"
"Why do you think I was searching the rulebook yesterday? There's no rule against catching the Snitch and releasing it again. It's twice as hard to win that way. Malfoy had every chance to catch it both times because I released it behind me and pretended I hadn't seen it."
"Mental. Bloomin' mental you are," grinned Ron. "No wonder the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin."
"Did I say that?"
"Yeah, ages ago. You were trying to comfort my sister."
"That's right, I did say that," said Harry, frowning as he recalled the experience.
"Pity you're not crafty enough to get yourself a real bed." Ron smirked to himself as he watched Harry climb over his trunk and curl up in the blankets in his corner.
"This is fine. I don't want to cause any fuss," said Harry dozily, and promptly fell fast asleep.
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~~~ Aches and Pains ~~~
When Harry awoke he felt surprisingly comfortable — until he moved. A low groan slipped from his lips.
To remain motionless was a relief. No aches and pains troubled him then and the floor seemed much softer than normal. The lengthy Quidditch match must have taken more out of him than expected, he thought.
"He's awake!"
He could see it was still completely dark yet that had been Ginny's voice. Ginny! Here? He tried to sit up and heard himself moan again.
"Lie still, Harry... Please!" said Ginny, pushing him back down.
"Ginny? What's going on?" His voice croaked dryly.
"Here..."
He felt the rim of a goblet pressed to his lips and he gratefully sipped water. Footsteps approached.
"He's woken up at last, Madam Pomfrey," said Ginny.
"Could you draw that curtain please, Miss Weasley? It's rather bright in here."
Harry felt fingers at his temples carefully removing bandages from around his head. Light flooded in and he blinked rapidly as he took in his surroundings in the hospital wing.
"Who did this to you, Mr Potter?" said Matron.
"What? Quidditch, you mean?"
"That was two days ago, Harry," said Ginny.
"Mr Potter, you have been severely beaten. If you will tell us the culprit's name we can take appropriate steps."
"Beaten...?" Harry tried to think. After some consideration, the cup match did seem longer ago than yesterday evening but... He had vague tendrils of memory since then... classes, meals...
Madam Pomfrey was using her wand as the door opened and McGonagall came in.
"Ah, there you are, Minerva. I think he's been Obliviated - not very well done, but Obliviated nevertheless."
Harry heard McGonagall gasp. "And the injuries, Poppy?"
"Heavy bruising over much of his body and bloodied here and there but not as serious as at first thought."
"Thank Merlin for that, at any rate," said McGonagall. She directed her gaze at Harry. "Potter, do you not remember anything?"
Harry tried to shake his head and grimaced. "No, Professor. Are you sure this is not just the after-effects of the match?"
Madam Pomfrey snorted. "This is much more than a sore backside, young man! You'll need another day in bed at least."
The Matron pushed another goblet up against his mouth but this liquid was not nearly so pleasant as the water had been.
"There. A few hours should clear it all up."
Harry began to feel drowsy and very soon was fast asleep again.
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~~~ Pinning the Blame ~~~
"Draco," said Ron. "Had to be." He and other Gryffindors were sat near the open windows of their common room, enjoying the pleasant breeze and still soaking in the bliss of victory. Ginny nodded her agreement. Harry remained silent.
"We've no proof of that," said Hermione. "I got a good view of his knuckles at breakfast the day after and there was no sign of—"
"How?" said Ron. "What, you went up and grabbed his hands or what?"
"No, Ronald," said Hermione, with over-emphasised patience, "As I walked by he had his hands spread flat on the table top."
"Oh, that was lucky then!" said Ron.
"Yes... I suppose it was..." said Hermione, thoughtfully, then sighed as the realisation hit her and she conceded, "Of course — you mean he wanted me to see!"
"Yeah, it was him! I just know it! Probably wore gloves or got Crabbe and Goyle to do it for him!"
"We still have no real evidence though, Ron. Perhaps he knows who it was but wanted to make sure we didn't suspect him."
"Or maybe it really was him, Hermione!" said Harry, finally. "Paying me back for last year as well as the Quidditch disgrace. Which proves that trouble just causes more trouble."
The breeze picked up, a window rattled, and several students stood up, the better to catch the cooling air.
"But you never go looking for trouble, do you! They attacked you on the train!" said Ginny. "And Draco had a go at me in the bookshop even before my first year — you said so yourself, Harry when you defended me!"
Harry shrugged his shoulders and winced slightly.
"Does it still hurt?" said Ginny.
"Not really. Not much anyway."
"You'll be as good as new in another day," smiled Hermione.
"What about that gash on your arm? I reckon he put the boot in to ruin your Snitch-grabbing," growled Ron. "It's the same as... look, everyone's got a dominant wand arm and the other's nowhere near as good. Bill always said it was cowardly to try and bust somebody's wand arm. Same with capturing a Snitch."
"What's one more scar? At least this one doesn't show," said Harry. "Come on, let's forget about it. Summer holidays start in a few days so I won't have to see his ugly smirking face for a few weeks."
"Aren't you going to get back at him!" cried Ron.
"I don't want the hassle, Ron," said Harry. "Best to keep my head down then there won't be any more bother."
Ron and Ginny protested and even Hermione had to sit on the fence, "I hope you're right, Harry. I hope you're right."
"Look, he's had his revenge," said Harry. "McGonagall's got the Quidditch Cup on display. We won. Next year everything will be fine, right? Summers coming! Holidays!"
He turned his head away so they wouldn't see the dark expression that stole across it: no Quidditch, no Ginny, and entombed, once again, with the Dursleys...
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
That concludes Book 3 and by coincidence, I've just finished the final chapter of an advanced draft of Book 4, Goblet of Fire, into which this story continues within a few days. It's much bigger and you'll find more variation from the original material as that goes on.
I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character.
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. :)
- Hippothestrowl
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