Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: AND I'M BACK! Sorry it's been so long, but my internet is working again and I'm not on holiday so yeah...

Anyway, Quidditch action today! It's kinda action packed, probably the first of its type in this fic, so please let me know how it goes.

Also, two reviews? In all that time? Come on, guys, please review. It gives me an incentive to right - plus you can send me some OCs! :D

Anyway, please read the A/N at the bottom, as it contains info on the new posting schedule. ON WITH THE CHAPTER!

Edit: I did post this yesterday, but it hasn't updated the update date, so I have re-uploaded it. Wow, try saying that five times fast.

Chapter 11 - Quidditch Craziness

Harry bade his time before enacting any more of his plan. He still kept an iron grip on Slytherin House, torturing a further seven students, and he continued his indoctrination of young Miss Granger. No, he wasn't going to act until a night of power - Halloween.

Of course, he had other things to focus upon in the meantime. He spent a lot of his free time developing new potions and spells, and cruised easily through his assignments. They had not yet found a new History teacher, and so that was now a free session, a session Harry often dedicated to training in the Room of Requirement, both for physical and magical prowess.

He had also been progressing with his Animorphmagism, now adding the common Woodpigeon to his repertoire of beasts. But it was still all so monotonous.

There was, however, an opportunity to help alleviate Harry from this monotony of boredom. And that opportunity was the first Quidditch match of the season.

The weekend before Halloween, the Quidditch season opened with the tensest of all the House matches: Gryffindor v Slytherin.

On the day, after the rest of the school had headed down to the pitch, the Slytherin team began to trudge down to the pitch in silence.

The silence was not due to nerves, or even excitement. It was due to the fact that none of his teammates dared speak to him, in fear of what may slip out of their mouths. And the reason for this fear? His attire.

Upon seeing the free quidditch gear for Slytherin House, he only had one thing to say: 'What is this garbage?'

In his mind, that was exactly what it was. A robe, in the same, ugly style as the school robes, nut in a sickening green, a vivid pastel that did not go with the silver lining. And, as it wasn't against the school rules, he wore a different robe. Said robe is what so offended his fellow athletes. Or rather, the colour did.

It was a short trench coat, not quite going down to his ankles like most trench coats, with thick pads on his shoulders and elbows. It was made of quality leather, and was bound at the centre by a thick belt with clips for things such as wands and knives. As of that moment, only his wand was attached. Oh, and it was a maroon-brown cross.

As he came out of the changing room gripping his new Nimbus 2000, Flint nearly choked on the last minute drink he'd been having.

'Whaddya doin' in them Gryffindor colours, traitor?' he bellowed, before his eyes widened in realisation. He sank to his knees, pleading. 'My Lord, I spoke without thought. Have mercy, please!'

Harry simply raised an eyebrow. 'We shall be talking about your failure later.'

As such, his fellow members were walking behind him in silence. Just before the stadium, however, Harry stopped, turning around.

'OK, team, here's the plan. You go in, you play hard. Beaters, be merciless.' Carlos Crabbe and Gunther Goyle grunted, slamming their fists together. They were the fourth year siblings of Vincent and Gregory, and looked like they were simply clones, albeit a bit larger. 'Chasers, be swift and agile, charge straight through their defences.' Flint nodded for his fellows. 'Anastasia, make sure no goals get past you. Any that you fail to catch but could will be held against you.' Anastasia Carrow gulped. She was the daughter of the incestuous twin Death Eaters, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, and it showed. Her face was ugly and pustulous, and she lacked any intelligence of her own. 'I will extend the match as long as I feel necessary to build up points. I will also block the chasers and draw the attention of the Weasleys. Now, good fortune, and remember my promise.' The whole team gulped as one.

While this was going on, Harry's inner circle had been making their way through the Slytherin stands, claiming pride of place at the very front, where the free omnioculars were placed.

'Sooo,' Draco drawled. 'How do you think Harry will match up against the Gryffindors?'

Nott snorted. 'Don't you mean how will the Slytherins match up against the Gryffindors?'

Draco stared at him. 'The others are redundant. Harry's skill on the broom is prodigal. The only person who I would give a chance against him is Viktor Bloody Krum.'

Daphne stared at him. 'He's that good?'

Draco smirked. 'Yes. If he ever loses a match while in Hogwarts, it will be because he wants to.

Pansy turned to them. 'Shush! They're coming out!'

It was a Gryffindor who was doing the blatantly biased commentary, a friend of the twins by the name of Lee Jordan.

'And the Noble Lions of Gryffindor are out!' He was saying. 'Huzzah for that! At least we have some noble players today!

'Continuing as Keeper and Captain, Oliver Wood!' Said boy waved at the crowd, flipping on his broom. That resulted in applause

'Twin beaters, Fred and George Weasley!' That led to further applause.

'The bea-utiful chasers, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell!' Said witches waved at the swooning crowd.

'Sorry, Professor,' Lee said, attempting to sooth Madam Hooch, not sounding sorry at all. 'And our brand new seeker, Dominic Mclaggen!' Dominic was the seventh year brother of Cormac, and was only on the team because Charlie Weasley left. He was slow, he was bulky, lacking skills, and, most importantly, thick as two short planks. But hey, he was popular, mainly because he had a pretty face, and lots of muscles, even if they were from magical steroids.

'And out come the Slimy Snakes of Slytherin!' There was some applause, but it was mostly drowned out by the booing of the rest of the crowd. 'Sorry professor,' Lee repeated in the same tone. 'I do of course mean the 'Cunning' Snakes of Slytherin.'

'First up, Chaser and Captain, Marcus Flint, with his fellow chasers Maggie Bulstrode and Dalia Cross!' Flint leered at the crowd, and the blonde beauty of Dalia flew under, while the black haired and only slightly better looking older sister of Millicent flew over. They were both fifth years, and were pretty much the opposite of each other: Maggie, black haired, ugly but intelligent, and Dalia, blonde, beautiful and stupid. It just goes to show athletes don't need brains, as long as they aren't the captain.

'Next, the Keeper, Anastasia Carrow.' She zoomed over to the goalposts, diving between the rings.

'And finally, the youngest Seeker in 100 years, Harry Potter-Malfoy!' The last part of the name came out as a snarl.

'And the quaffle is off, with Alicia Spinnet in possession.'

Said chaser pulled up, before tossing the quaffle behind her into the waiting hands of one Angelina Johnson. Or at least, that's what she tried to do.

Instead, the ball was intercepted in mid air by a blur, diving directly between the two chasers. And yet, all Slytherin Chasers were in front of her.

Grinning, Harry sped straight down, gripping the red ball close against his chest. Quickly, the three chasers gave chase, speeding towards the ground. Harry slowed down, allowing them to catch up, before jolting his broom up to a level position, watching as the chasers narrowly missed crashing into the ground.

Lee was spitting curses by this point. 'What is that (insert several words offending to the ears of civilised people) Seeker doing with the Quaffle? Surely, that is against the rules!' He paused, listening to Hooch. 'Hooch has informed me that it is, while unorthodox, completely legal. The rules make no mention about Seekers playing other positions. Chasers and Keepers using bats, yes, but not Seekers. Sorry, folks.'

Harry, chuckling to himself, sped along the ground, barely skimming the surface of the ground, coat fluttering in the wind. He turned his head around to find the three chasers close on his tail, bouncing with each clip against the level ground. He smirked at them, before accelerating, speeding across the ground.

He viewed the rest of the pitch out of the corner of his eyes. Mclaggen was distracted by his shenanigans, not even bothering to search for the Snitch. Indeed, the golden ball was hovering right next to his head, and he was completely oblivious!

Hovering above him were the three Slytherin chasers, on hand in case Harry decided to abort his slap dash run. In the goalposts, Wood was looking quite concerned, and Carrow was looking quite bored, but attentive. The beaters were now engaged in a battle for control of the bludgers. Unfortunately, the twins won that contest.

The Weasley Twins were indeed prodigal beaters, and the two iron balls soon flew directly at Harry. In a split second decision, he kicked off of the ground with his right foot, leading to him being sent spinning sideways in a chaotic barrel roll. Fortunately, it was the correct decision.

The first bludger embedded itself into the ground, tunnelling slightly under the surface of the ground. It was quivering chaotically, but appeared to be well and truly stuck. The second bludger, however, had a far more exciting result.

The ball ricocheted off of the first, slamming right into the handle of Alicia's broom. Said handle snapped in two, and Spinnet was sent spiralling out of control. Due to her proximity with the ground, she quickly collided, and was sent bouncing across the expanse. That, however, was not the end of the madness.

After Alicia slipped off of her broken broom, the brush end snapped backwards, connecting with the bristles of Angelina's own broom, snapping them clean off. With no bristles, the broom had little control, and Johnson slammed straight into the bleachers. Katie managed to survive the chaos.

Hovering for a second, Harry chuckled at the Chasers, sprinting across the pitch. Unlike Harry, who had brought over spare brooms in case of such an incident, the Gryffindor chasers now had to sprint all the way back to the castle to retrieve a broom. And by that time, unless by some miracle their Seeker spotted the Snitch, the Slytherins would be miles ahead.

Harry pulled straight up, cutting under Wood, tossing the Quaffle through the hoop with no opposition.

'Ten-nil to Slytherin.'

Harry again regained control of the quaffle, this time taking a higher route. He skimmed across the edge of the bleachers, chuckling to himself as the single remaining bludger crashed through beam after beam, the Twins unable to keep up with his prodigal speed.

'Twenty-nil to Slytherin.'

By the next toss, the Gryffindor Seeker had spotted the Snitch, and so Harry abandoned the Quaffle in favour of extending the match. Just as Mclaggen was reaching his hand out to grab the golden ball, Harry dove right in front of him, body slamming the Snitch out of the way.

He smirked. 'Hey! I've come to reach you about your car's extended warranty!'

As Mclaggen looked at him in confusion, there was another boo from the crowd.

'Thirty-nil to Slytherin.' Clearly, even his team mates couldn't have trouble with a single chaser.

The quaffle was launched again, but no Gryffindors made a play. Flint gained possession, and began charging straight for the goalposts. The twins, however, were having none of that.

Quickly gaining control of the bludger, they sent it flying at Flint, over and over again. Finally, it collided, clipping the quaffle, which was then sent tumbling into the hands of Bell.

Frowning, Harry dove towards Crabbe, ripping the bat out of his hands. Without even waiting for their protests, he dove straight towards the Twins, who were still in control of the Bludger, and swung full force, aiming straight for Katie, weaving around the three Slytherin chasers.

The ball connected with her hand with a sickening crack, and both she and the quaffle slipped off of the broom, her grunting in pain. With her no longer on it, Harry could also see the bludger had torn the front of the broom clean off.

Flint dove for the quaffle, charging straight for the goalposts, no chasers left to interfere. Harry, however, wasn't about to let up this opportunity.

He dove straight for Bell, twisting around his broom in such a way that he was now hanging by his feet, arms outstretched towards Katie. There was a gasp from the crowd.

Pivoting around the broom with his feet, he caught the Gryffindor by her uninjured wrist, before flicking up, launching through the air. As planned, she landed safely in the bleachers, with Madam Pomfrey close by.

'Forty-nil to Slytherin.'

It was then that the other Gryffindor chasers returned, gripping rickety school brooms as they ran onto the pitch. Harry chuckled. Of course they didn't have the forethought to have decent spare brooms. Of course.

There was no doubt about it, the Gryffindor chasers were extremely skilled. Definitely superior to the official Slytherin chasers. But they had no chance against someone as skilled as Harry, especially with only two chasers, both on extremely bad brooms. Indeed, Harry now easily flew circles around them.

'Fifty-nil to Slytherin.'

'Sixty-nil to Slytherin.'

'Seventy-nil to Slytherin.'

'Eighty-nil to Slytherin.'

It was then that the Gryffindor Seeker made another play. He dived down, following the erratic movements of the small gold orb.

He would never reach it. Harry darted straight for him, leaping off of his own broom, which spun over the other Seeker, barely missing him. His left foot slammed against the golden ball, sending it tumbling chaotically away, before planting his other foot firmly at the front of Mclaggen's broom.

Mclaggen looked up at Harry, eyes wide with fear. The broom bucked, and Mclaggen was sent tumbling into the bleachers, an audible crack heard as his kneecap collided with the wooden floor. Still in the same fluid movement as when he jumped off, Harry remounted his spinning broom, before dashing back to the centre of the pitch.

'Ninety-nil to Slytherin.' At least his chasers were competent enough to deal with the handicapped chasers.

Harry dived back into action, no longer having to be wary of the Gryffindor Seeker. He easily weaved through Spinnet and Johnson, and was skilled enough on the broom that he need not worry about the single bludger, for the second still lay quivering in the ground. He easily scored against Wood, for while he was indeed an excellent Keeper, he simply couldn't match Harry's reflexes.

'Hundred-nil to Slytherin.'

'Hundred and ten-nil to Slytherin.'

'Hundred and twenty-nil to Slytherin.'

'Hundred and thirty-nil to Slytherin.'

This went on for quite some time, as the Gryffindors, while being extremely skilled, the favourite of the tournament even, simply couldn't keep up with Harry's skill, which was only compounded by his broom. Three more brooms were broken by the end of the match, one for each remaining chaser and one for Wood. Wood, at least, had had the sense to bring a backup.

'Three Hundred and fifty - nil to Slytherin.'

Harry sighed. That should do it. His arms were starting to ache. He leaned back, surveying the pitch. There! A glint of gold, darting around just by Anastasia, who was watching it, quite bored.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, he darted straight for the tiny golden ball, quickly gripping it in his hand, ending the game, as well as gaining an extra 150 points.

'And it is finally over!' cried out Lee Jordan, who had clearly been a mixture of bored and irritated. 'Come on people of Gryffindor, that was getting embarrassing!'

Hooch ripped the mic out of his hands. 'And the first match is an upset, with Slytherin beating Gryffindor Five Hundred - Nil! Congratulations Slytherin.' Snape then leaned towards her, whispering in her ear. 'Yes. Uh huh. Right. What!' She nearly fell off of her seat. 'Professor Snape has informed me that… Mr Potter is to be made Captain of the Quidditch team, the youngest ever captain in the history of Hogwarts! Congratulations Mr Potter.'

Harry strolled out of the stadium after casting a quiet scourgify on his trench coat, smirking. He ignored the scowls of Gryffindor and the bored expressions of the other houses. No, he headed straight for the dungeons, sitting in his throne once more. Moments later, the House re-joined him.

'THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!'

'POTTER FOR THE WIN!'

'HE'S A LEAN, MEAN, QUIDDITCH MACHINE!'

Harry smirked. 'Thank you for your congratulations. Well done to the rest of the team too, for they played… adequately.' He snapped his fingers. 'DOBBY!'

With a flash of dulled light, a ragged looking House-elf appeared, one of the Malfoy elves. 'Dobby be being heres to serve the young Master.'

'Make us some food. I want a FEAST!' He grinned at the rest of the house. 'Teleport us to You-Know-Where.' Dobby nodded, before snapping his fingers. The world disintegrated beneath them, before reforming as a large banquet hall, albeit without doors. The Room of Requirement. Harry quickly seized control of the room, so that no others could learn of its secrets.

He sat at the head of the table, in a black throne made of twisted metal, and watched as the house dug into the food that suddenly appeared. Next to him was Draco and Daphne, with Theo and Pansy on either side of them.

A small smile on her face, Daphne turned to face him. 'Congratulations, my Lord. I must say, I had thought Draco's representation of your abilities was hyperbolic.'

Draco smirked. 'I bet them each five gallons that you would win the match by at least three hundred points. They took the bet.'

Nott groaned. 'Can you stop rubbing it in? I just didn't think anyone could be that good!'

Harry smirked at him, before turning to his brother. 'I expect a third of your winnings. After all, it was my ability that won you that money.'

Draco stuck his tongue out, before tilting his head in agreement.

Harry tapped his spoon against his glass, before standing up. The room went silent, attentive. 'Greetings, fellow Slytherins. We have done well today, and have gained a foothold over the other houses. Through our actions, I have even gained a formally recognised position of superiority.' He snorted, and his serious expression gave way to a smirk. 'Ah, who am I kidding. Today was all down to me. Today, I have furthered our campaign.' He raised his glass in toast. 'FOR THE GREATER GOOD!'

There was thunderous applause, and several chanted back 'FOR THE GREATER GOOD!'

Harry sat down on his throne, with a dark smile, sipping from his drink. 'It has begun. The reign of power. The reign of intelligence.

Draco mirrored his smile. 'And so it has, brother. So it has.'

A/N: OK, how was that? Don't worry, I am not going to do all the Quidditch games, I just thought a one-off demonstration of exactly how good Harry is was kind of amusing.

Anyway, the posting schedule. I am back in College, and so have a lot less free time on my hands, meaning I cannot update quite so often. Alas, this means this fic will only update once a month, on the first Monday of the month. Same with my HP/PJO fic, Tournament of the Gods, except that will update every second Monday.

Also, I have a new Fred/George one-shot posted, so please check that out. Also, an old friend of mine, GazelleRLG, has started posting on Wattpad, so please check her new HP/PJO fanfic out, called 'Nico di Angelo at Hogwarts'. No, I did not name it.

Anyway, please review! I love to see your feedback!

Next Chapter on October 4th