Aww, I'm so happy with you guys :) everyone know that Harry Potter is a hundred times better than Twilight :D

Anyways, this is a filler chapter and so because a couple of you have been requesting Quidditch, I decided to dedicate it to the game :)

Enjoy.

Max POV

What is up with school these days? I swear the work wasn't this hard back in Virginia.

'What time is it?' I asked wearily as I brought my Transfiguration homework out from the deepest corners of my bag.

Fang shrugged. 'Dunno.'

I sighed and looked at the homework. I couldn't believe how hard this stuff was! I really didn't get Transfiguration. Like, at all. It didn't help that the only pieces of magic I could do so far was a Disarming spell and a Shield. But oh well. I had to deal, I s'pose.

I tried to concentrate on my work, but it might as well have been rocket science for all I could understand it. I mean, couldn't McGonagall have given us some slack, being Muggles and all? It was kinda unfair, if you ask me.

Finally, I scratched in some answers – which I'm sure were wrong – and put the sheets of parchment back in my bag. 'I can't do this. I'm going to bed.' I announced. Fang barely glanced up to say goodnight before going back to his work. Nerd. The others had gone to bed ages ago and were probably having very nice dreams right now. Lucky them.

As I stumbled up the steps to my dormitory, I heard a voice enter my consciousness that I hadn't heard for weeks and I stopped dead. It wasn't just a voice. It was the Voice.

Stop worrying about your school work, Max, it told me. There are bigger happenings in place. I frowned. What do you mean?

You and Harry have a common enemy.

And then it was gone. What had it meant by that? As far as I knew, all of Harry and my enemies were totally different. So what was the Voice talking about? Harry's enemy was Voldemort and the flock and I... well, we'd had too many to list.

I shook my head and started back up the steps. I'd think about it tomorrow. I was too tired to think about anything now. I was so glad it was the weekend.

--

In the following three weeks, I noticed a change in the air. A theme. One of rivalry.

The Slytherins were constantly picking on us, er, defenceless Gryffindors, both physically and verbally, and in retaliation, a whole load of Gryffindors were spending all their spare time in detention for landing so many Slytherins in the hospitable wing.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs seemed to stay mainly out of the way, though I saw a couple of them throwing snide insults at Slytherins occasionally, and meanwhile I still had no idea what the heck was going on.

Finally, after a night when Harry, Ron and Hermione were being particularly nasty about the green and silver house, I cornered Ronald to interrogate him.

'Dude, what's going on?' I inquired. 'What's with all the competitiveness at the moment?'

Ron stared at me. 'You don't know?' He asked.

'Know what?'

'Quidditch of course! First game of the season's this Saturday! Gryffindor versus Slytherin!'

Oh. Right. The wizard's patented sport, Quidditch. Gotcha.

'What're the odds?' I asked in interest as Iggy joined us where we were lounging in the common room.

Ron snorted. 'Gryffindor'll win of course.' He told us. 'Harry's brilliant.' Then he paled. 'I, however, am not so good...'

I stood and clapped him on the back. 'Don't worry. You'll be fine.'

Ron seemed to have some confidence issues. I could only hope I was right about what I'd said.

--

By the time Saturday came, I'd seen how passionate these magic folk were about their sport. Honestly, they were obsessed. I would be glad when this whole match was over. The students would be a whole lot less dangerous then.

So anyway, it was Saturday morning and me, Fang, Iggy, Ron, Hermione and Harry were sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, eating about twenty pancakes each. (The bird-kids I mean. I'm pretty sure the others would puke if they tried to eat that much) It might interest you to know that our eating habits still attracted plenty of stares, by the way.

As I sat there munching contentedly on the flavoursome little treats, I could practically feel the tension in the air. It was like... well, you know those novels that are always going on about how the emotions were like, palpable? Well yeah, it was like that.

I noted with interest that Ron wasn't eating anything at all. Instead his face was steadily turning shades of red, green, white, grey, kinda blue, yellow, red again, then another green and finally this weird shade of splotchy gross purple. Not a good look, let me tell you.

I wondered how the kid could get so nervous. I mean, this school contained about 600 people (?) which is a relatively small amount compared to what we performed in front of when we were doing the air shows, and none of the flock had a problem, not even Angel. Ron needs to grow a backbone.

'Team! Changing rooms, now!' I looked around to see Angelina Johnson standing nearby with her broomstick over her shoulder. I still couldn't get over the broomsticks. I mean, come on! Broomsticks! Such a witch cliché.

There was a clatter of noise as the Gryffindor team stood up, then a chorus of 'good lucks' from the remaining Gryffindors. And Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs for that matter. Nobody seemed to be rooting for the Slytherin team except their own house. (Ha ha. Loners.)

Twenty minutes later and the rest of us non-players slowly filed onto the pitch, which was located way off near the boundaries of the school.

To tell you the truth, I was actually sort of excited. I mean, Quidditch was obviously unlike any other sport in the world (what with the flying and all) so it would be interesting to see what is was like.

By the time we got to the stands, they were already almost full, and so we had to squeeze into teensy little spots right in the middle of a huge group of students. It was really small. Really small. It was like 'why hello there claustrophobia! Welcome back! I do adore your visits ever so much!' Yeah, that small.

But in the end, it was all worth it. After a couple of minutes of waiting I heard a whistle blown and I looked down at the pitch to see a witch standing in the middle of it (presumably the ref) with her foot on top of a large case and a red ball in her hand. On one side, seven people in green and silver were striding towards her – one of which I now recognised as Malfoy. He's on the team? – and on the other side, seven more people in red and gold were walking towards the middle. I could easily pick the ranga heads of Ron, Fred and George and the messy black hair of Harry.

The ref said something to each of the teams and then she threw the red ball in her hand up towards the sky and blew the whistle again. The game had begun. And yeah, I am going to kill myself later for being so cliché by using that phrase, no doubt about it.

But anyway.

I have to admit, brooms are a pretty handy piece of magic. As I watched, the two teams sped up into the air, even faster than the flock could, and the ball that the ref had tossed up – the Quaffle? – was snatched out of the air by Angelina.

I could see Harry way up, circling the big pitch like a hawk, and Ron, looking greener than ever, by the weirdly shaped goalposts.

As I watched the game unfold (basically the Gryffindors kicked arse except for Ron, who was terrible), I felt a familiar longing to be up in the sky and I felt my wings unfurl just the tiniest bit, willing me to just stand up and jump into the air, to fly far away, and be away from everything for a while... But, of course, if I did then the secret would be blown and I would be in deep crap.

'I sooo want to be up there right now.' I muttered to Fang, and I could see from his expression that he had a similar wish.

'You do realise that we haven't been flying in like, two weeks, right?' Iggy breathed. I glanced around quickly in alarm to see if anyone heard, but there were no changes in facial expressions and so I relaxed again.

'Yeah. My wings are killing me.' We'd only been able to scrape a flight twice since we'd been here, and as a result, the entire flock was more uptight and snappish.

'You reckon you could snag permission from McGonagall?' Fang asked. I nodded.

'I'll try. I think – ' My sentence was cut off by a sudden shriek of excitement from the crowd and I turned quickly back to the pitch to see Harry and Malfoy (I'm guessing he's the Slytherin Seeker) going into a steep dive, apparently chasing a tiny golden ball. Ah. The Snitch. Right.

Malfoy and Harry were like, neck and neck in the dive and both of them were hurtling towards the ground and breakneck speeds. I would just like the chance to say now that the phrase 'breakneck speeds' is a way too violent one. I mean, sure, it's accurate, but it puts very bad images in your head. My head, anyway.

There was an 'ooh' in the crowd as Malfoy suddenly struck out at Harry, making him swerve off course for a moment, but soon enough he was back in the race.

Their hands were outstretched now, both of their faces etched into an expression of extreme concentration and determination. I winced. If they hit the ground at that speed then they would resemble nothing more than roadkill...

The crowd was on its feet now, screaming its head off. Every eye was locked on Harry and Malfoy.

Harry was edging forward now and Malfoy was falling behind. They were getting closer to the ground every second.

And then, somehow, I have no idea how he managed it, but Harry snatched the Snitch from the air mere centimetres from the ground and pulled out of the dive, soaring upwards again, the little ball clutched tightly in his fists.

My mouth was wide open. How the hell had he done that? I swear, that kid was born to fly. Well, not literally, I mean, the flock and I were literally born to fly, but seriously, Harry was a natural on his broomstick.

When the crowd saw what Harry had done, they screamed so loudly that Harry was practically deafened and I saw Iggy wince and put his hands over his ears.

Harry tumbled onto the grass, grinning triumphantly, and I couldn't help but grin as well. Ron was right. Quidditch really is a pretty cool sport.

And I wanna try one of those broomsticks.

But as I watched the early celebrations begin, something nagged at my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

You and Harry have a common enemy...

Not as good as the other chapters but I don't mind it. So review?