CHAPTER SEVEN
The Greatest Decoy
"I'm starting to miss the days when you used to avoid us." Anthony told Michael, as he observed the chess board in front of him in despair.
Harry wasn't sure what he was so worried about. He didn't know much about chess, but even he could see, over the third entry of The Adventures of Captain Armstrong, that Anthony was in the stronger position. Michael seemed to agree with this assessment.
"You just don't like it when someone makes you work for your victories."
Terry laughed. "You should have seen how he sulked after gran beat him in backgammon last Christmas. Mum had to bribe him out of his room with sweet potato fries." Anthony scowled.
"I did not sulk, and that happened three years ago, not last year!"
"Did it? Well, you still got your arse kicked by an old lady."
"I let her win! I didn't want to ruin her Christmas." He looked embarrassed now.
Harry decided to pile on. "It must be such a burden being so naturally talented. Being good at everything must make life so hard." Michael and Terry snickered at Anthony's flustered expression.
"I don't want to play anymore." He sat back in his seat, and his King piece toppled itself at his command.
"You are such a baby!" Terry was outright laughing now. "You just hate not being good at something."
"No! I'm just not used to it."
Michael shook his head smiling. "Do you even hear yourself?" Anthony was about to respond, but saw that Harry was ready to reply to whatever he said. He looked at each of them in turn and finally seemed to realise they were just messing with his head.
"Oh great, there's three of you now." He groaned and slumped further in his seat, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips at their laughter.
Michael had slipped into their little group as though he had always been a part of it, and Harry was glad for a particularly selfish reason. Anthony and Terry had been more than welcoming to him, but there were times when he felt like an outsider amongst the two brothers. With Michael around, he at least had some else when the other two were practically speaking in secret code.
And Michael was always around. His behaviour with Terry had hardly changed, going from antagonistic one second and sharing one silly mind the next. Harry had already learned that it was a bad idea to leave them alone together for any extended period of time, when he and Anthony returned from the library to find them having a water fight with toy wands. This normally wouldn't be a problem, but the two had decided to have their battle on "neutral ground." They had somehow managed to convince the title holder of the Worst Prefect position, Christopher, to open Anthony's dorm for them, faking some kind of homework related emergency. They were lucky that Anthony was such a good sport about it; Harry would have killed them if they had flooded his dorm.
It really was a good thing Anthony had such an even temper, as Michael's peevish nature could be a bit much sometimes. He was far more patient with him than Harry was, and Michael seemed to rely on it. Even before Halloween, he always took Anthony's words to heart.
Halloween had changed a lot for Harry and Michael though. Firstly, was the November 1st edition of The Daily Prophet.
BOY WHO LIVED SLAYS TROLL
By Nelson Probe
"What?" Harry asked woodenly, and Anthony repeated what he had just read to him.
Harry knew something had happened as soon as he had entered the Great Hall, as everyone present, teachers included, watched as he and his friends as they took their usual seats near the front Ravenclaw table. Having last night's events on the front page of the biggest magical newspaper in the country wasn't what he had expected though.
"It's not just The Daily Prophet either. Wizarding World News reported it too." He turned the papers over to Harry as soon as they had been delivered to him. Both papers had the same identical picture of a dead Troll. Mercifully, it had its head turned away, hiding its fatal wound. Harry began to read the Prophet first.
"What does The Oracle say?" Michael asked. Anthony made a noise of disgust.
"I don't read that rag. Only biased morons do."
"Oi!" Michael sounded offended. "My brother reads it!"
"If the Daily Prophet is considered good, I don't ever want to read The Oracle." Harry said, putting the paper aside. "I've never read more pointed speculation in my entire life." He scoffed. "Assassination attempt on a national treasure." What rot."
"I don't get the Prophet for its quality in writing." Anthony explained as Harry pulled Wizarding World News towards himself. "Terry likes the daily crossword but he keeps spending all his pocket money on his special ingredients, so I get it for him." Anthony paid the delivery owl his four Knuts, before watching it take off.
Surprised, both Harry and Michael looked at Terry. "What?" His voice was defensive. "The Prophet might not have the best crosswords, but all the other papers release them weekly. I can't wait that long."
"You being an impatient tracks. But crosswords, really?" Michael looked doubtful.
"I'm allowed to have hobbies!" Terry said, defensively.
Michael snorted. "An old man's hobbies."
Harry sighed, putting down Wizarding World News as he finally finished Leonard Torres' much more objective article. "At least they reported it was just an accident." He said, relieved. After a decade spent under the protection of a bodyguard, he didn't want people to think he was in danger wherever he went. "How'd they even figure out it was us in the first place?"
"House points." Michael said, around a mouthful of cereal. He swallowed before elaborating. "Robert says there's a book that keeps track of points lost and gained and the reasons for it."
"So, some Prefect properly saw the points, who they were awarded to and why and then wrote to the media?" Terry pieced together, an uncharacteristic frown on his face. After a moment, his expression slipped back into his usual relaxed state, as though being upset was too difficult for him.
"Or someone caught a glimpse of the Troll before the teachers could clean it up, snapped a picture of it and asked a Prefect what had happened." Anthony reasoned. "They might have even been suspicious by Ravenclaw's sudden lead. I mean a one-hundred-and-ten-point gap is nothing to sneeze at."
It was true, the entire house had been in a jubilant mood all morning. As the now confirmed Troll Slayers, Harry and Michael spent November being treated like heroes by the entire house. The most comfortable seats by the fireplace, treats brought back from Hogsmeade, books being returned back to the library for them; It was as if they were the Kings of Ravenclaw Tower. It had been a long time since Ravenclaw had won the House Cup, and it was clear what even the chance of victory meant to them all.
A part of Harry was reluctant to enjoy it, too afraid of the repercussions. At least he was, until Flitwick informed him that Magister Akingbade did not blame Headmaster Dumbledore nor the Hogwarts staff.
"Why would he?" Flitwick looked amused at Harry's worry. "It was only a Troll." Harry was baffled with this laissez-faire attitude, at least until he remembered what Cedric Diggory had said during the first duel of the school year:
We're not as fragile as Muggles, and we can heal our injuries a lot faster and easier than they can.
Harry was finding it difficult to grasp what was and wasn't dangerous by wizarding standards. Trips to the bank, buying a wand, flying sports, duelling and Trolls were all considered child's play or a part of everyday life. So, what is dangerous? What do Aurors do? What did my parents do?
Harry planned to read the Auror's Enchiridion for the second time that very same night, both curious and scared to find out. For now, however, he got to the real reason he came to Flitwick's office.
"Sir? I've been studying detection and unlocking charms recently, an extra credit project for Professor Quirrell, and I noticed something odd." Harry reached inside his Mokeskin pouch and withdrew his sheathed kindjal. "I can tell that there is some kind of enchantment placed upon this knife my parents left for me, but I can't tell what." That wasn't precisely true. Harry knew it had something to do with unlocking charms, but he didn't want to mention anything about his parent's letters; Those were private.
Flitwick took the blade from him gently and seemed to examine it with his hands. "Goblin Silver. Best for long lasting Artifices." He brought it to his ear as though listening to sounds that were far outside of Harry's hearing range. "This is very well done, your mother's work if I am not mistaken." He frowned, considering. "It will take some time for me to learn what its intended purpose is. At least if you do not wish for me to damage it?" Harry shook his head rapidly. "I will let you know what I find."
Harry's emotions must have been clear to see, as Flitwick smiled kindly at him. "I'll return it to you in the exact condition you gave it to me." He promised. That made Harry feel better.
His ever-growing legend had not been where the changes ended. Where before Michael refused to speak with him after their first flying lesson, he now spent most of the day by his side. Back and forth from Quidditch practice, classes, and extracurriculars. Harry, who had always been painfully lonely, quickly grew to enjoy this near constant presence. He could recognise that Michael had grown up without friends too, and he was clearly eager to establish firm bonds, but even Harry's childhood desire for companionship had its limits.
"You don't have to come, you know." He told him one day, as the four boys rushed to Charms Club. Harry had been late getting back, his private lesson with Quirrell running over its usual length, and his friends had been kind enough to wait for him. "You don't even like the normal class, so why bother with the extra work?"
Michael looked flushed, but it wasn't because of their pace; He had the best stamina on the Quidditch team. "Flitwick has been hounding me about it. Says I should live up to my potential, or something." Harry smiled ruefully. Flitwick had been telling Michael that since September, the only difference now is that he wanted to spend as much time with his friends as he could. Harry supposed he couldn't fault him for that. Although, later, he had to put his foot down about the Languages Club and his duelling lessons when Michael tried to follow him then too. A boy needed his alone time.
Michael's seamless transition into their little band was not the only reason November was so much more pleasant than the months that had preceded it.
Harry's Blackthorn wand had finally started to obey his will. He hadn't realised it until now, as he had only wandless, wordless magic to compare it too, but his wand had been fighting against him this entire time. He had only come to realise this during his first session with Quirrell after the Troll Incident.
"Protego!" A translucent shield was conjured from his wand, snapping into place in front of him, just in time to halt and dissipate Quirrell's Jelly-Legs-Jinx.
Harry froze. Quirrell froze too. Neither of them expected the Shield Charm to actually work. "What was that?!" Quirrell shouted, elated.
Harry stared at his wand as though he had never seen it before. This had been happening all day in classes. From Transfiguration to Charms, every spell he had attempted he had been able to get a solid reaction. Not perfect, not even good, but a reaction nonetheless, which was infinitely better than the empty results he had been getting before. It confused him at first, but he assumed that luck played its part; The two spells that had been asked of him were simply attuned to him naturally, like the Dark Magic detection spell, Verdimillious, which he had successfully produced during his first week. But maybe-
Before he could continue that thought, Quirrell cut in. "Have you got the rest of the Basic Three down? Because I'd love to finally get around to teaching you the Auror's Basic Seven." He stressed the word seven, as though to emphasise how slow Harry's learning was. If it was meant to light a fire under him, it worked.
Raising his wand, he began to demonstrate his newfound mastery of the Basic Three. When he left the room hours later, he had four new spells that he had been tasked to master in order to complete the Seven.
When Harry had returned to his dorm, he was glad Argos was settled comfortably on his perch. The window was cracked open, but Harry didn't mind the brisk November air if it meant his anti-social owl could come and go as he pleased, especially when Harry needed him at a moment's notice.
"I'm glad you're here. I need to write a letter to someone in London. If you're up to the journey that is?" Argos didn't rise to the bait, showing more maturity than Harry possessed. Taking his seat at his desk, Harry wrote on a neat length of vellum.
Dear Master Ollivander,
I am sorry to trouble you, but I have found myself with a curious problem.
My Blackthorn wand seems to be acting strangely. Where before it was a struggle to get any kind of response from it, now I can get a reaction with little effort. Is this a cause for alarm? Should I expect further changes?
Perhaps problem isn't the right word for it, as it seems to have a positive impact on my schoolwork. However, I am worried enough to write to you now.
Please write back soon.
Kind Regards,
Harry Potter
Harry read and reread his letter a dozen times, hoping it sounded polite enough. Ollivander was practically a stranger to him, and therefore under no obligation to reply to his letter. Harry hoped good manners was enough to earn him the old wandmaker's good will. It was probably better than writing to him complaining about the quality of his products.
Harry froze. Was that how his letter read? As though he were a complaining customer? Harry wanted to reread the letter another dozen times with a fresh perspective, but by that point it was sealed in an envelope, tied to his owl's leg. Looking out the window, he couldn't even spot Argo's silhouette flying away in the early evening November gloom. Sighing, Harry tried to put it out of his mind as he got ready for his usual evening bath. After hours of having jinxes thrown at him, he needed to destress.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
The first Saturday of November brought along even better news. Gryffindor had bested Slytherin during the first Quidditch game of the year. Harry wasn't sure why this was good news when Robert informed them of this during the team meeting. He stated as much.
"It's because neither team caught the Snitch during the game." He said, seemingly put out that Harry didn't automatically understand.
In a swap of their initial roles, Michael was far more patient than his brother with Harry's lack of Quidditch literacy. "Gryffindor's Chasers proved better than Slytherins, but Robert thinks our team has an equal Chaser line-up than them."
Marcus nodded, arms folded, his large Keeper gloves peeking out like the hands of a cartoon character. "I was worried about Slytherins Chasers, but if they can't get past Wood then I'm not going to let them get past me." They all turned to him surprised, it was rare to see stoic Marcus so fired up. Maria even wolf whistled, but he ignored her as he was stared at Robert with intensity. For his part, the Captain just looked embarrassed.
Harry glanced at Michael, who looked just as confused as the rest of them. Robert spoke now, avoiding Marcus' eye. "Harry, in our match against Hufflepuff, you shouldn't mess around." Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure you meant to say Harry and not Eddie?" Eddie didn't take any offence.
"The man makes a good point boss, but I think I understand the confusion. We're practically twins." The redhead tried to squish the side of his face against Harry's in order to compare their looks.
Maria scoffed. "You should be offended Harry. I would be if someone confused me with a human carrot." Now Eddie was offended.
"Ginger jokes?! Really?!"
Robert, who had been trying to get his point across this whole time, but couldn't get a word in edgeways, finally snapped. "SHUT IT!" He roared, slamming his fist into the locker, making poor Fiona jump. His face was now red in anger and not for whatever had embarrassed him before.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about! We keep messing around during practice and our biggest game is in just two weeks!" Robert wasn't just angry, Harry realised, he was scared. This was his first year as Captain, and from what he had gathered, his reputation and record meant everything to him.
"Hufflepuff is our biggest obstacle. Gryffindor had to let Charlie Weasley go for the Triwizard, and now they're stuck with a Seeker Harry can fly circles around. The Slytherin Seeker is skilled, but their Chasers aren't worth worrying about, at least when it comes to goal scoring." Robert's voice lowered now that they were all giving him their undivided attention. "Hufflepuff has the most even team. Great Chasers, solid Keeper, merciless Beaters and a fantastic Seeker." Robert was now looking right at Harry again.
"That's why I can't mess around in particular isn't it?" Harry waited for Robert to nod, before he smiled dangerously. "You don't have anything to worry about. Trust me, Robert. There's no way I'm going to lose to Cedric Diggory."
Later, once practice was over, Michael turned to him as the two First Years made their way back to Ravenclaw tower. "What's your problem with Cedric Diggory? He didn't say anything to you, did he?" He asked, frowning.
Harry had noticed that whenever someone was even slightly rude to him, Michael was quick to back him up. It had led to more than one aborted fight as Harry had to drag him away before he made a mountain out of a molehill. Harry was quick to nip it in the bud this time before his overprotective friend tracked down Cedric.
"I haven't got a problem with him; I just want to beat him." Harry explained simply. Michael looked at him blankly before his face lit up in comprehension.
"Is this about Friday's duel?" His question hit the nail right on the head. Harry nodded.
Just like Eliza Hawthorn, Cedric had challenged the 24th ranked Sentinel, but it wasn't the blonde Slytherin girl he faced. No, she had climbed even higher, claiming the 23rd spot for herself. Cedric had faced the new 24th Sentinel and won, claiming a spot for himself when he was just a Fourth Year.
Harry had attended every duel that had taken place that year, even when many in the school had not. He did so partly to learn spells and techniques that he could add to his own repertoire, but he did it mostly for the intense spark it lit in his chest every time he watched the Sentinels clash against one another. Was it ambition or a competitive spirit? Whatever it was, he was slowly becoming addicted to the sensation. What would duelling actually feel like?
Michael's voice shook him out of his thoughts. "So, you're not ready to beat Cedric or Eliza in a duel like you really want to, so you feel as though you to have to settle for the Quidditch pitch?" Harry glanced at him with concern. He knew how seriously his new friend took Quidditch, aside from his intense attitude on the pitch, every inch of his dorm was plastered with Falmouth Falcons memorabilia.
Fortunately, Michael did not seem concerned at all. In fact, he looked pleased. "When you tried out for the team, I was afraid you weren't going to take it seriously. I'm glad I was wrong, even if you're going about it in a weird way." Harry returned his smile as they stepped into the common room.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
On game day, Harry followed Michael's behaviour as he had before try-outs and their first practice. He ate what he ate, stretched when he stretched and even went for a walk around the empty stadium with him for a warmup. It was only when Harry began putting on his gear in the same way and pace as he did, that Michael finally snapped at him.
"Why do you always copy me?" He demanded. His loud voice echoed throughout the (mercifully) empty changing room. "You've been doing it since try-outs, and it creeps me out!"
Harry shrugged. "Actually, I've been doing it since our first flying lesson. I copied your grip." He added when the other boy looked blank. "It was different from the one Hooch showed us, and I wanted to see if it was better. Anyway, I only copied you in that lesson, the first try-out and our first practice session."
Michael looked exasperated. "Why?"
"I always copy people who seem like they know what they're doing." Harry shrugged. It was the truth. The Dursleys had taught him startingly little, and Lupin hadn't always been around, so Harry had taught himself how to behave and succeed in life by mimicking the methods of the most capable individuals he came across. "I memorised your routine because you're a good player. If I do what you do, that'll make me a good player too, won't it?" Michael looked confused, as though he couldn't decide if he should be flattered Harry was complimenting him or annoyed that he was being observed and mimicked so closely. Before he could figure it out, Robert and Marcus appeared, soon followed by a toast munching Eddie.
Now that gameday had finally arrived, half the Ravenclaw team could not be more grateful. Robert, Michael, Marcus and Harry had fully devoted themselves to their training over the last fortnight, even cutting back on their extracurriculars. Robert had even managed to convince the Slytherin team to give them some of their practice time slots. ("You want to see Gryffindor lose, don't you?" He had told the trollish looking Slytherin Captain) The other three team members weren't so gung-ho about it.
Maria hadn't been afraid of making her displeasure known even though she did all that was asked of her, too proud to be left behind. Eddie gave it a solid effort, but, ultimately, he always ended up distracted by something; Not a great trait for a Beater as it turned out. What had disturbed them all was when Fiona had actually snapped at Robert. "I've got other things I have to do, you know! I can't practice all the time!" She shouted up at him, before stomping off the pitch. It was that more than anything else that made Robert shorten practices the last few days before the game. No one liked seeing Fiona mad.
Despite feeling like he was on the top of his own individual game, he wondered if this sudden burst of team drama was going to lose them the match today.
The Ravenclaw Quidditch team exited their changing rooms and made their way to the centre of the pitch on foot. Harry was a little perturbed by the size of the crowd. Even during the opening duel of the school year, the stands hadn't even been half full. There certainly wasn't this many students at Hogwarts, or even the Great Hall would feel crowded.
"Tickets get sold to family and friends of players." Michael explained, as they made their way to the centre. "Whatever's left gets sold off to the general public."
The Hufflepuff team Captain, a behemoth in human form, Richard Watkins, Christopher's older brother, shook Robert's hand a little too firmly, making the other boy wince.
On Professor Hooch's command, the Snitch and Bludgers were released into the air and a minute later the players were told to mount their brooms and hover. After a tense moment in which she stared intently at the players (She does the same thing during every school duel. How melodramatic can one person be? Harry wondered) she raised her wand high above her head, and a sound like a cannon went off.
The game began in chaos.
Eddie shot upwards towards a Bludger and batted it right at a Hufflepuff Chaser. One of their Beaters, Watkins, got in the way, but he was too close to swing his bat. Making a split-second decision between protecting his teammate or himself, he chose to shield his Chaser with his own body.
The crowd groaned in sympathy as the Bludger struck his side, but those groans turned into shouts of anger and swears from the Hufflepuff stands, as Maria struck the rebounded Bludger right back at Watkins. She was so close, she managed to hit him in the exact same spot Eddie had before he could even regain a stable hold on his broomstick. He fell off his Nimbus 2000 and landed with a heavy thud on the grassy pitch, twenty feet below.
At the same moment, Fiona snatched the Quaffle and shot forward at top speed towards the opposing team's goals. This normally would be a bad idea, but with the Ravenclaw Beaters keeping the Hufflepuff Captain and one of the Chasers busy, all she had to worry about was one Beater, who was too busy flying towards the other side of the pitch after the other Bludger.
As Fiona sped forward, her bound brown hair streaming behind her, Robert and Michael used their own bodies as battering rams, barging into the two free Hufflepuff Chasers to stop them from getting anywhere near their teammate.
When Fiona neared the Keeper, she made a feint to the left and threw it towards the right. The Keeper was a sharp one and he would have been blocked it if it wasn't for the tight spin she put on it. Fiona had worked hard to improve her accuracy over the last few months, and it paid off as the Quaffle sailed right into the left hoop. The crowd of blue and bronze began to chant her name. WOOD! WOOD! WOOD!
"An unbelievably aggressive start by Ravenclaw!" Lee Jordan was commentating again, and he sounded as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Harry could hardly believe it either and he had been there when Robert had told them what to do. "But you can't argue with results! Watkins is already down for the count and Ravenclaw lead 10-0 after an excellent feint from newcomer Fiona Wood. You must be proud of her, Ollie! Or are you scared she'll get a feint past you too?" Lee teased the Gryffindor Captain, who responded with a rude hand gesture.
Harry couldn't focus on any of this, because as soon as Hooch gave the signal for the match to begin, Cedric Diggory came barrelling right at him.
Harry, not expecting such an aggressive opening move from a Seeker previously called "soft" by Maria, was slow to dodge. The larger boy missed him by a hair but the slipstream he left behind was enough to knock him into the course of the passing second Beater. The large boy managed to clip him in the shoulder as he shot towards the other Bludger, sending Harry into a spin.
Cedric didn't let up. He came at him again and again from different angles. By the time Fiona scored and had the crowd chanting her name, the other two Chasers had joined in on the attack. Harry could see in his peripheral that the other Beater was now leading the Bludger in his direction.
Harry knew why this was happening. Most Seekers, especially at the school level, were essentially fourth Chasers, giving up the Snitch as a lost cause and helping their team by sowing discord amongst the opposition's Chaser line up. Scoring goals, stopping goals, even helping Beaters attack other players like Cedric was doing now, the Seeker was every team's wildcard. Therefore, every team's biggest target for attack.
The reason Harry was so surprised by Cedric's chosen tactic, was because the other boy was a similar type of Seeker to himself; A Seeker who has proven that he could spot, chase and capture the Golden Snitch.
Quidditch games were two forty-five-minute halves, and the Snitch was not only worth fifty points, but it actually ended the whole match early.
Cedric was clearly planning to get Harry out of the match in order to search for the Snitch himself in the remaining time. But why would he even bother with a rookie? All Harry had heard for months was how Cedric was his biggest threat, how he needed to train hard in order to even keep up with him-
Harry suddenly understood. He's afraid of me.
Maybe afraid wasn't the right word, but he was definitely threatened by Harry, and why wouldn't he be. Seekers who actually hunted for the Golden Snitch were typically small and slight, less air resistance and drag meant faster speeds when chasing the Snitch.
Perhaps Cedric had been both of those things last season, but he had clearly had a growth spurt somewhere down the line. Fifteen years old already, the Fourth-Year boy was tall and broad shouldered, with muscles that could be seen underneath his form fitting yellow and black uniform. Harry on the other hand was a skinny eleven-year-old and the fastest flyer on his team.
With a fresh burst of confidence, Harry smiled as dodged another barge from a Chaser and did a Sloth Grip Roll over Cedric's head as he dived for the grass.
I'll give you a reason to be afraid of me.
He levelled out five feet from the ground and led the way over to the Hufflepuff team's hoops. Now that the Quaffle was about to be put back into play, the two Chasers abandoned Harry and returned to support their teammate. Harry maintained a perfect speed, just enough for Cedric to feel like he had to work to keep up with him.
Once the Quaffle had been put back into play, Harry took off like a rocket, heading right at the Hufflepuff Chaser line-up at the centre of the pitch.
It was the exact opposite of what Robert had told him to do, and with good reason. Harry's slight build might give him an advantage of speed, but when it came to body contact, he would lose every time.
But Harry wasn't planning on touching them.
The slipstream Cedric had hit him with at the start of the game had given him the idea. He wasn't sure if it had been done deliberately, but Harry thought it might work quite well for him. Cedric had knocked him off balance with just twenty feet worth of build up, so what would happen if Harry came in at his top speed from the goal line?
The answer was a lot. Harry wasn't sure if it was the slipstream or the sight of a demented eleven-year-old coming at them at over fifty miles an hour, but the Hufflepuff line-up scattered like startled pigeons when he zoomed through the small gap in between them.
Robert and Fiona were just as startled, but Michael had either seen him coming or had read his mind. He caught the Quaffle Hooch had thrown and carried it towards the goal as fast as he could.
Harry never slowed down. Shooting right past the now chaotic centre line, he flew in the face of the Keeper (not touching him as that would be an illegal move) but swerving into whatever direction he turned his head. Michael practically flew through the left hoop as it was so open.
"What was that?!" Lee shouted into his microphone, as the crowd sans Hufflepuff began roaring their adulations. "Potter turned it all around in a second! From having half the Hufflepuff team hounding him to leading his team to another goal… seriously, what was that? Fifteen seconds? A lot of us had our doubts with this year's Ravenclaw line-up, but the three newcomers have already proven their worth! It's 20-0 Ravenclaw and were just two minutes into the game. Can Hufflepuff turn it around?"
As it turned out, they could not. At least at first. While Cedric had given up on hounding Harry and instead began searching for the Snitch, Eddie and Maria seemed to take Lee's comment about the new Ravenclaw line-up personally. They regularly left the Chasers abandoned in order to attack Cedric, who was forced to practically perform an aerial show with how many dives and spins they were forcing him to make.
Maria and Eddie only felt comfortable abandoning the Chasers when Harry intermittently gave up his search for the Snitch in order to hound Hufflepuff's Chasers and single remaining Beater.
This back and forth worked for a while, giving Ravenclaw a comfortable lead of 70-10, but there were only so many times Harry could fly into someone's face before they learned to stop flinching. Hufflepuff finally seemed to catch on that Harry would be risking injury if he collided with them, so they just began to ignore him.
Even with him blocking their vision and the Ravenclaw Beaters overwhelming their Seeker and remaining Beater, Hufflepuff admirably managed to get the score to 80-40 Ravenclaw by half-time. Despite their team being down a man, and having no new surprising players, Hufflepuff held their own. There was a reason Robert had called them this year's best team.
Harry followed his teammates in the team meeting room, collapsing into a chair and peeling off his gloves and goggles. You wouldn't think it from just looking, but Quidditch was quite the strenuous sport. Controlling the broom's direction with his arms, keeping his balance with his feet on the stirrups, using his thighs and hips for rolls, constantly sitting up and then putting himself flat against the broom in order to control his speed and always, always being on the lookout for an attack, meant that his body's muscles were tensed from the moment they kicked off to the second they landed. It was fun for a while, then your body demanded to know why it was being punished.
Robert waved him up. "We need to stretch." He was out of breath, but led the team through their stretches, keeping their muscles loose for the second half.
Harry made sure to wiggle his fingers (he had been half afraid he wouldn't be able to catch the Snitch after gripping his broomstick tightly for so long) as Robert finally let them relax and hydrate.
"Good improvisation. I was half afraid that they'd knock you out in the first minute." Marcus said to him.
"You and me both." Harry smiled, before he noticed something strange. While the others were all talking to each other, Michael sat in silence, staring at the wall. Harry was about to go check on him when Fiona stopped him.
"Don't. He's trying to keep his focus. His body might have left the game, but his mind hasn't." Harry stared at her until she blushed. "My brother does it a lot, says it's a mental game."
Harry grinned. "Did you really practice your feints so much because you want to score on him?" Fiona blush deepened, but she didn't deny it.
"He thinks he's the only one in the family that can go pro. I want to prove him wrong." By the time she finished speaking, she looked determined, cool even. Before he could tell her that, Robert interrupted.
"We shouldn't focus on a future game in the middle of the one we're already playing." He chided her. "Let's keep our minds focused on the second half."
"What's there to focus on? We keep doing what we're doing, and we'll win." Eddie said happily, practically lounging in his seat as he put his hands behind his head.
"Don't be thick. Can't you see they're gaining on us?" Maria frowned at him. "The only thing worse than losing, is losing when you have a solid lead."
Robert nodded. "She's right. We need to change our approach and push our advantage." He turned to Harry. "You did excellent work in the first half, but now I really need you to find that Snitch."
Harry nodded. Nothing more needed to be said.
Once the fifteen-minute half time was up, the teams lined up at the centre line, just as they had done before. Richard Watkins had finally gotten back from the Hospital Wing, and as he stepped forward again to oppose Robert, he glared at the Ravenclaw Beaters. Maria blew him a mocking kiss and Eddie gave him a cheeky grin, shooting a finger gun.
"Back already, tough guy?" Richard actually growled at Eddie, and probably would have showed him just how tough he was, regardless of Hooch's presence, if Marcus hadn't shaken his head.
"I wouldn't." He said quietly, but his voice was still clearly audible over the noise of the crowd. This actually gave Richard pause. While he was clearly larger than the Ravenclaw Keeper, Marcus had a dark vibe to him. Harry didn't blame him at all for hesitating. More than once he had counted himself lucky that Marcus seemed to like him. He wasn't someone you wanted to be on the wrong side of.
"If you're all quite done." Hooch ground out, glaring at them all for wasting her time. Richard still looked torn between Eddie's mocking expression and Marcus' "they'll never find your body" vibe, so Cedric had to step forward and pull him back to the rest of his team, sans handshake.
Hooch sighed. "Kids." She said disdainfully, and while Harry agreed, he thought it was a pretty wild attitude for a teacher to have. She flew into the air, waited for them to mount and hover, before releasing the balls in their specific order and giving the signal to begin.
Harry shot towards Cedric this time. Not because he was ignoring what Robert had said, but to get him back for the last kick off before going on his hunt for the Snitch. Was that petty? Yes, very much so. But it felt so good to see his opposing Seeker flail around in the air as he flew past.
He tuned out the game, focusing intensely on the hunt. It was a more difficult search that he was used to. Normally it was just his team here, and the only distraction were the Bludgers, Eddie and Maria would send his way. Now he had to be on the lookout for attacks, keep an eye on Cedric's progress just in case he spotted the Snitch, all the while ignoring the crowd and the commentary.
Harry wasn't sure how long he was searching before he spotted the Snitch, but there it was, clear as day, near the Slytherin area of the stands. Harry didn't hesitate or play it casual. What would be the point? He and Cedric were of an equal distance to it, and he had already proven himself the faster flier.
Harry took off faster than he had all half. The Hufflepuffs paused as they seemed to think he was back to his old tricks, and even Cedric didn't give chase. It was only when he passed them by a wide margin did they, the crowd and Lee Jordan finally realise what Harry had seen.
"It's the Snitch! Potter has seen the Snitch!"
Harry didn't allow himself to acknowledge the crowd's gasps, he tuned out the commentary and even ignored how Michael took advantage of the Hufflepuffs hesitation to score another goal, making the score 110-80 Ravenclaw. He would ignore all of it, as he chased the Snitch with a single mind.
At least he did, until he fell off his broom.
Right when he was within spitting distance of the now fleeing Snitch, when he was close enough to see the terrified expressions on the faces of each individual Slytherin, who clearly thought he was going to crash into them, that was when his broom froze in mid-air.
In retrospect, Harry had no idea how he pulled it off, especially without breaking his wrists, but his grip on his now spatially frozen broomstick remained strong. While his body was lifted off his invisible Cushioned Charmed seat and began to hurtle forward at fifty miles an hour, Harry kept his grip and swung forward and then underneath his broom, only letting go, one hand at a time, so that his shoulders didn't pop out of their sockets. He readjusted his grip while he was still in motion, so one second, he was hurtling to his doom and the next he was hanging seventy feet off the ground.
There were screams and shouts of horror as Harry's broom began to buck and thrash, as though it were a rampaging horse that was trying to shake him off. Harry could feel his shoulders beginning to burn as he waited for a moment where he could mount his broom again.
He was so focused on his broom he didn't notice Hooch bring the game to a halt as the remaining thirteen players tried to approach him. Every time they did, the thrashing would only increase, and the broom would fly higher and higher.
Richard Watkins got fed up before anyone else and made a speedy attempt to get his broomstick underneath Harry's. The second he did so, the crowd screamed as Harry's broomstick bucked so wildly that one of his arms came free. Harry tightened his grip, wondering how much longer he could hold on and how much a two-hundred-foot drop would hurt.
He needn't have worried. Not long after Richard's failed rescue attempt, Harry broom finally stopped trying to murder him. As it stopped moving erratically, Harry grabbed it with his free hand, and after a tentative moment to see if this was some kind of trick (were broomsticks capable of tricks?) Harry swung himself back into starting position.
"If you can land, land now!" Hooch ordered him.
"You don't have to tell me twice." Harry muttered, as he was already headed for the grass.
Touching down gently on the ground, his teammates landing beside him, Harry ignored whatever it was they were saying, as the four Heads of House hurried onto the field.
Without a word, McGonagall took the broomstick from him and began to wave her wand over it. Flitwick had now arrived and asked Harry if he was okay. Harry nodded dully. He wasn't really taking anything in, still disturbed that he had almost died on a broomstick that he had ridden a hundred times. He was still only dimly aware of his surroundings when Quirrell arrived, with a guilty looking Myrose in tow.
"We know who did this." Quirrell said, pushing Myrose forward to his confused and then appalled Head of House.
"Why on earth-?" Slughorn cut himself off, as he seemed to realise exactly why. "How on earth did he do this? This level of Dark Magic is beyond him." He said this bluntly, uncaring who heard him dismiss his own student's academic prowess.
"I believe someone has been tutoring him." Quirrell said this in a way that made it clear who he thought that someone was.
Slughorn looked shocked at the accusation. "I would never! How dare you even suggest-!"
"I seem to remember you had a certain fondness for Myrose's brother. You favoured him did you not? Turned a blind eye to his misdeeds, no matter who he hurt-!" Quirrell looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, it was frightening.
"Gentlemen! You are not in private!" Flitwick interrupted, voice firm. "You can continue this once we have gotten the students back to the castle." Harry heard that and finally snapped out of his shock.
"Back to the castle? You do mean after the game?" He asked. He did not almost die just to have the match cancelled, or worse, postponed to a later date. They had the advantage over Hufflepuff right now and their tricks wouldn't work a second time.
Flitwick looked astonished. "Mr. Potter," He began in the same firm voice before he seemed to reconsider. "Harry," he said gently, "no one would expect you to continue after all that."
Harry frowned. "I'm not doing this because of anyone's expectations. I'm doing this because I want to win." There was a smattering of laughter behind him. Some of the other players seemed to think his bullheadedness was amusing, while others just looked concerned. Harry glanced back and saw that Michael and Cedric were the only ones who seemed to understand where his mind was at, as they looked as determined as he felt.
"Your broom has been cursed and we don't have another Nimbus 2000 lying around."
Harry was undeterred. "I'll fly on one of the Cleansweep Tens then."
Hooch cut in. "That is exactly fair to your team-" She stopped speaking as Cedric came to stand at Harry's side, against the teachers.
"It'll be fair if I ride a Cleansweep Ten too." He said, winking down at Harry.
"Cedric, you aren't the Captain. You can't make decisions unilaterally-" Sprout began to scold her student before she was interrupted.
"I'm completely fine with it." Richard said, smiling fondly at Cedric. "Besides, aren't we all about fair play and perseverance? If we gave up while we were losing, it would send a bad message, won't it?" He argued, and Harry felt bad for judging him by his appearance. He was far nicer than he looked. He regretted thinking that a moment later, as Richard's smile turned dark, and he jabbed Eddie on the back of the head with his giant finger. "Besides, I want to get back at this one."
"You really need to learn how to let things go, Dick." Eddie muttered, now looking a little unsettled.
Flitwick, Sprout and Hooch exchanged a series of looks, apparently knowing each other well enough to come to a silent agreement. Flitwick turned to Robert and asked, "Captain?"
Robert smiled. "If Hufflepuff wants to lose so badly, who am I to stop them?" There were chuckles and friendly joshing, as he continued in a more serious turn. "If Harry says he's good to play, that's enough for me."
Flitwick sighed, but he couldn't hide his proud smile. "Go on then."
Hooch got them back into the air in no time at all. Riding the Cleansweep Ten after the Nimbus 2000 was like getting on a dingy scooter after riding the best mountain bike in the world. However, the roar of the crowd as they flew back into the air was enough to make Harry feel like a hero.
The match resumed 110-80 Ravenclaw, twenty-one minutes remaining.
Harry appreciated the Hufflepuff team's excellent sportsmanship, it was noble to ask to resume when they were still behind. Even so, he didn't allow that good will to stop him searching for the Snitch. All it would take is a bit of bad luck, and Cedric would find it before him.
Not long after, Harry felt his stomach drop when he heard Hufflepuff score a second goal in as many minutes. Ravenclaw was now only leading by ten. Their Chasers really were phenomenal, but the Beaters were no slouches either, as he was forced to learn the hard way when Richard sent a Bludger right at him. Despite Harry being over fifty feet away from where he had struck it, Richard's aim was good enough that the Bludger still caught the tail end of his broom, sending Harry into a wild spin towards the grass.
Smelling blood in the water, both Beaters came after him with a vengeance, and it took all of Harry's limited skill to steady his out-of-control broom before it struck the ground, and even more skill, that he didn't even possess, in order to keep away from them. Perhaps asking to ride a notoriously slower broomstick had been a mistake, as his only advantage on the pitch, his speed, was stripped away from him. Harry's experience was severely limited in comparison to Richard and his fellow Beater, which he found out as every manoeuvre he pulled was countered by the Hufflepuff Beaters. If he tried to escape, they would cut him off. If he tried to lose them amongst other players, they would follow him with a single-minded determination. The one time he tried to lead them towards the Ravenclaw Beaters, they made him regret it.
Wincing, as his shoulder was still throbbing from where Richard had barged into him, Harry had to accept his now futile position. He had done all he could, but there was no escaping Hufflepuff's constant attacks. He had tried all he could in order to get back into the game, but there was no avenue left to him.
At least until Maria came to his rescue.
The Hufflepuff Beaters were so focused on him, that they had left themselves open to a counterattack by their opposing Beaters. Maria got in close, having shepherded one of the Bludgers towards them, and when they weren't looking, hit it right into Richard's back.
Richard grunted, and was forced flat on his broomstick by the blow, but he did not fall like last time. Turning his head, he caught a glimpse of Maria and her winding arm. Clearly remembering her rebounding hit at the beginning of the game, Richard swerved out of the way, not wanting to hit the ground again. However, Maria hadn't been aiming for him this time.
Her rebounded hit struck the other Hufflepuff Beater right in the elbow, causing the poor boy to scream out in pain. He let out a fragile whimper as Harry flew past him, examining his arm, which was now bent at a strange angle. For the second time in a single game, Hufflepuff were down a man.
All of this was quite good for Harry's immediate health and safety, but there was a price to be paid for his rescue. The Hufflepuff Chasers had capitalised on Maria's temporary absence, as they two attacked Michael and Fiona, while Eddie and Robert gave chase to a third Chaser, who was barrelling his way to the Ravenclaw goals. They might have caught up to him if Cedric hadn't flown in at the last second to play interference.
Harry let out a frustrated breath through his nose. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Cedric was a better Seeker than him. Not only was he a fast flier, (Even on a Cleansweep Ten it was difficult to keep an eye on him!) but his larger build meant that he was capable of head on attacks against his opponents.
The crowd groaned in sympathy as Cedric flew directly into Robert from a sharp angle. The Ravenclaw Captain was so focused on catching up to the Hufflepuff Chaser, that he was caught completely unaware. The groans of sympathy turned into frightened screams from the Ravenclaw section as Robert fell off his broom and landed roughly on the ground forty feet below.
It was child's play for the Hufflepuff Chaser to get the goal through, as the Ravenclaw team fell apart in an instant without their Captain. Robert wasn't the best player on the team, but he was solid foundation on which the other six all stood. When he went down, the others were all brought to a pause.
Eddie immediately dived to try and save Robert from a rough landing and failed. Marcus was so focused on the sight of Robert falling that he didn't even try to stop the Quaffle from going through the hoop. Fiona froze in mid-air long enough for one of the Hufflepuff Chasers to send her into a spin that was even crazier than the one Harry had just experienced. Michael's reaction was the worst, as he let out an enraged bellow and made to fly straight at Cedric, determined to get back at him. Harry and Maria were the only two who were able to keep their heads, and they just about managed to stop him before he could get near the Hufflepuff Seeker. If any player attacked a Seeker while the Quaffle was out of play, it was grounds for a penalty, and now that the score was 110-110, Ravenclaw could not afford the risk.
With only six minutes remaining, Harry decided to really push himself, and do something drastic. Now that Robert was down, someone had to take charge of their offence, and there was no time for a team discussion.
When the Quaffle was put back into play, with all the remaining Chasers and Beaters at the Centre line, Harry flew at them as fast as he could. It wasn't anywhere near the top speed of the Nimbus 2000 but the Cleansweep Ten wasn't slow by any stretch of the imagination. However, instead of flying at the Chasers, he flew right into Richard.
Not at Richard. Into.
Everyone was flabbergasted by that decision, but the way Harry saw it, if his grip was strong enough to keep him attached to a bucking broomstick, it was good enough to barrel into a burly seventeen-year-old.
He was right. Richard let out a hilariously high-pitched yelp (which later, he forced Harry to promise he wouldn't tell anyone about) as Harry struck him right in the side. It wasn't enough for him to fall off his broom, but he was thrown sideways, and he collided with the same Chaser he had protected at the beginning of the game.
Harry groaned, as he experienced a sharp pain in his left wrist and his already throbbing shoulder now felt like it was on fire. As much as he would like to take a beat and assess the damage that he had done to himself, he knew he had to exploit their temporary distraction, otherwise his ridiculous tactic would have been for nothing.
He zoomed after Michael, who had been the first to snap out of it and had picked up the Quaffle which had fallen onto the grass. Harry followed to the Hufflepuff's goals, but without his Nimbus 2000 he found it impossible to keep up with his friend. That was alright though because Michael had a trick up his sleeve. As he would tell Harry later, the idea had occurred to him when he had seen Fiona's first feint. The entire match he had followed her lead, and most of the goals the two had scored were done by feinting. While Fiona had done this because it had become her hard won specialty, Michael was building up to a moment just like this one.
If I didn't need to use it, it would've been a waste of energy, but I'd have been okay with that, he would later tell Harry, but just in case I needed a little something more, I built myself a weapon I could use.
The weapon was the expectations he had carefully built in the Hufflepuff Keeper's mind. Michael and Fiona are new players, the Keeper would think, they've mostly scored by feinting, so they've probably only practiced feints. They will feint again.
Except this time, it wasn't a feint.
With his left arm, Michael aimed for the left hoop, and rather comically, the Keeper flew towards the right hoop, following the expectation that Michael had built into his mind.
The blue and bronze crowd roared as the Quaffle sailed easily through the centre hoop, while the Hufflepuff's groaned at the ease of it. For his part, the poor Keeper looked confused, and at that moment, Harry was too.
You need to start thinking in layers, Michael would tell him later, looking quite full of himself, Not just what you're going to do next, but what doorways that next move could lead to.
Doorways? Harry would reply. I thought you wanted me to think in layers?
Oh, shut up.
In that moment though, Harry was just as confused as everyone else, but it didn't stop him from celebrating. He and Michael flew past each other, high fiving as they went. The score was now 120-110 Ravenclaw, with five minutes remaining.
When the Quaffle was back in the air, Harry continued his hunt for the Snitch. Now that Ravenclaw had a little breathing room, Harry could go all out. It was only much later he would realise what had happened to him in the blur of the last five minutes.
His senses were working so well together, it was as if his whole world had opened up. His ears picked up the sound of the commentary, he knew who had the Quaffle and what they were doing with it. His skin could feel the incoming Bludgers, he was dodging them like they were mere nuisances. His eyesight had opened up, almost as if his peripheral vision had expanded and he could see the entire pitch. Nothing was hidden from him.
That was how he spotted the Snitch flickering by Cedric's ear.
Harry's head was turned in the direction of the Hufflepuff goal and he forced himself to not react. Better if the Snitch disappear rather than Cedric realise it was right next to him. He continued his circuit of the pitch, and when he had naturally turned in Cedric's direction, he saw that the Snitch was still there, as though it were mocking him.
Cedric turned his head at his approach, and maybe it was because Harry failed to keep his head on a swivel, or maybe because he finally heard the high pitch fluttering of the Snitch's metallic wings, but Cedric finally realised he had the game practically in the palm of his hand.
No! Harry shot forward, as fast as the Cleansweep Ten could manage, mercifully spooking the Snitch as it took off. Cedric had a slower start, as he had been hovering at a standstill, observing the increasingly intense game and clearly deciding whether he should cut his losses and help his Chasers.
Well, all that was out the window now. The two Seekers were neck and neck as they flew after the Snitch. Harry wished his speed would come in useful here, but the Snitch was wily, twisting and turning, changing direction at a moment's notice. Cedric was an adept flyer, his more practiced control gave him the slight edge, but Harry wasn't one to give up.
The entire stadium seemed to hold its breath as the two chased the Golden Snitch through the air, around the pitch and between players until, finally, it dived towards the grass. Cedric seemed to hesitate, flying towards the ground at top speed was suicidal but Harry's desperation for victory had thrown his survival instinct right out of the window.
He could feel Cedric on his tail, but it was too late. Harry had the advantage now, and he was not going to let it slip away.
Thirty feet from the ground and he could see every detail of the Hogwarts Crest on the Snitch's golden casing.
Twenty feet, and it was just out of his arm's reach.
Ten feet, his arm was extended, and he could feel every metallic strand of the fluttering wings brushing against his fingertips. He was going to catch it! He was going to win-!
Hooch's cannon went off. Time was up. The game was over.
No! Harry thought, more upset with a game than he had ever thought was possible.
Harry landed roughly, empty handed and a mindful of frustrated swearwords teetering from his lips. Cedric touched down beside him, looking just as exhausted as he felt. He turned to Harry, a funny expression on his face, and opened his lips to say something. Before he could, however, Harry was besieged by the entire Ravenclaw team.
"WE WON! WE WON! HA! TAKE THAT DAD!" Eddie chanted as he wrapped Harry in a hug. Over his shoulder, he could see Michael being carried on a newly healed Robert's shoulders, as the brothers laughed jubilantly.
"Did your dad actually say we couldn't win?" Maria asked, after she landed a kiss on Harry's cheek that turned his whole face red.
"Yeah, I might have sent some bad sources his way that said something about Ravenclaw's team being awful this year." Eddie snorted, as he let go of Harry only when a smiling Marcus swooped down and lifted him onto his shoulders. "I then bet the old sucker that Ravenclaw would win. Guess who just made TWENTY GALLEONS!" He roared as he threw his head back to the sky.
"You scammed your own dad? That's cold blooded." Maria said with fake disapproval before smiling. "Drinks are on you tonight, Eddie!"
"Nah, there on my dad, aren't they?" He said before turning to Harry and Michael, as Maria dragged a beaming Fiona to the girl's changing rooms. "Alright firsties, this is your first ever House party, so I don't want to see you in the tower until everything is ready." He wagged his finger at them sternly.
"How long will that take?" Michael asked, clearly already thinking about his stomach.
"A few hours!" Eddie called over his shoulder as he ran to the changing rooms.
"What?" Michael yelped. "I'm hungry now!"
"Tough." Robert said, flicking Michael's ear. "It's tradition, so I better not see you firsties until dinner time."
Michael looked like he was about to protest this, but Harry put a hand on his shoulder after indicating Marcus should put him down. "It's fine, I need to see Pomfrey anyway." Harry made a gesture to his shoulder. "Besides, I know a place we can go for food." Michael settled down at the promise of food and he, Robert and Marcus began to guide an exhausted Harry to the changing rooms when a voice stopped them.
"Harry." Cedric said. Harry turned, surprised he was still here. "Mind if I have a word?" The two Sixth Years looked unbothered by this, but Michael was clearly gearing up for a fight. Harry smiled at him.
"It's fine. I'll catch up." Harry felt he owed Cedric a conversation after he had stood up to the teachers with him. Robert clearly agreed, as he ushered a complaining Michael into the changing rooms.
"That was the craziest match I've ever played." Cedric's tone sounded serious, and Harry couldn't help but try to inject some humour into the situation.
"Really? Don't all Quidditch matches have attempted murder? I would never have agreed otherwise."
Cedric smiled briefly, before his demeanour returned to its previous sobriety. "The scoreboard might say 120-110, but we both know you caught the Snitch."
Harry shook his head. "Not within the time limit I didn't."
"That wasn't what I meant. Without outside interference, you would've ended the game much earlier." He said, this like it pained him to admit it. "Don't think I didn't notice you flying to the Slytherin stands before. You saw the Snitch there, didn't you?" He waited for Harry's nod of confirmation. "Then you beat me this match. Next year, however," he said, as a challenging smile grew across his face, "will be a different story."
When Harry had first dreamt about beating Cedric Diggory and Eliza Hawthorn in this stadium, it was through duelling. Then, as he accepted that was a dream far beyond his reach, he settled for beating Cedric at Quidditch. Never did he imagine that failing to catch the Snitch could feel so satisfying. Hearing Cedric resolve himself to beat Harry next year felt like an ego boost. Even if it was just in Quidditch, he was now a threat to someone strong.
That makes me strong too, Harry thought, as he accepted Cedric's firm handshake.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"When you said you knew a place, I didn't think you meant a teacher's house." Michael said in a whisper as a still cheering Hagrid went to go get them some hard earned snacks. He and Harry had made their way there after showering and changing into fresh clothes at the Hospital Wing. Putting his tired muscles into Hagrid's giant squishy armchair was just what the healer ordered. Literally, as Pomfrey demanded he relax and take a break from strenuous activities for the next couple of days.
"Hagrid isn't just a teacher, he's our friend. Right?" Harry glanced at Terry and Anthony at this.
Anthony was examining the brand-new silver Occamy eggshells on the mantle, while Terry was playing with Fang on the floor.
"Hmm? Oh, yes!" Anthony said smiling at Michael. "He's terribly nice, although I was a little scared when we first came over."
Terry snorted. "A little?" He turned to Michael. "You should have seen it, one look at Fang and Mr. Perfect was running for the hills." Anthony scowled.
"You were right there with me!"
"Yes, but I'm a coward at heart. Who expects any better from me really?" Harry thought this comment was a little concerning, and judging by Anthony's suddenly pinched expression, he wasn't the only one.
The strange moment faded as Hagrid returned to the living room, with sticky treacle and ginger cake and bottles of pineapple juice.
Harry groaned appreciatively. "Hagrid, you're an angel! Who told you about my favourite food?"
Hagrid chuckled. "You've only mentioned it to me a hundred times. You can rest easy; I know how to take a hint." Harry blushed as the others laughed at his expense.
"You two know each other through class of course, but you should know that Hagrid saw you that day in Diagon Alley as well." Harry said, diverting the attention from his own embarrassment by throwing Michael under the bus.
Michael was startled, then he glared at Harry while Hagrid turned to him in concern. "That was you outside of Ollivander's? You alright?" He asked as if it had happened four minutes ago instead of four months ago.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. My brother was just mean to me, that's all." That didn't sound like Robert at all, which is how Harry knew he had put a foot in it.
Trying to fix it, he also said, "He helped me kill that Troll too." Michael perked up at this, having enjoyed the positive attention the articles had brought him, as people were quick to compliment him since then. In this matter, Hagrid was no different.
"Now that is impressive. Two first years against a fully grown Troll? I never would have put my money on it. But here you two are, without a scratch!" Hagrid began to cut the cake. "Heroes of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team! Troll slayers! Your first term isn't even over yet. What are you gonna do next?" He asked them, jokingly, as he began to hand out slices of cake.
Anthony seemed to take offence at this. "These lot have all had adventures. Even Terry got to pull a prank with Peeves. What about me?"
"Technically we only helped Peeves get away with a prank." Terry wilted as Anthony glared at him. "But I see your point."
"We do have an adventure ahead of us you know." Harry said darkly. "A brutal task really. Something that's going to need every ounce of magic and knowledge we've acquired in order to succeed."
His friends were engaged, even Hagrid looked concerned.
"What is it?" Anthony asked, eyes wide.
Harry kept his face straight. "Exams."
They all groaned, but Harry made to speak over them. "I know it isn't glamorous, but it needs to be said. We've only got three weeks left!"
He realised then, as Michael and Terry began booing him, and Anthony bemoaned their looming academic futures, that his life had never been as perfect than it was at that very moment.
Looking back at this time, mere months from now, he should have known it couldn't last.
Author's Note
I really don't like Quidditch. But I made the mistake of watching an episode of Haikyuu while planning this chapter, so it needed to be done. I had no choice.
I tried to make the match as fun as possible, even changing the rules to make it more tense.
I even added an anime-style flash forward with Michael's last goal, which was taken straight out of season 4 Haikyuu. If you know, you know.
Oh, and the chapter title is inspired by Haikyuu too. Harry is the greatest decoy, but it also states the next stage of Voldemort's plan.
Anyway, I'm not sure I have it in me to write another match, but I'll try if I feel it's necessary for the larger story like this one was.
Please review.