The Commentator

A huge cheer arose from the stands, as the Gryffindor Quidditch team marched smartly onto the pitch, brooms over their shoulders. Facing them, the seven Slytherins stood ready, evil-looking, menacing and ugly - particularly ugly. Madame Hooch raised her whistle to her lips, as the fourteen brooms were mounted and with a sharp shriek of the whistle, they kicked off the ground and shot into the air.
As usual, the Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was commentating. ".... and they're off. The Quaffle immediately taken by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor, and put straight in the goal. Nice work, Angelina! Looking good this morning! Bole, the Slytherin beater almost knocked off his broom by fantastic hit from either George or Fred Weasley. Take that, Bole, and brush your hair, you mucky...."
"JORDAN!" McGonagall snapped at him.
"Sorry, Professor."
High above the stands, Harry laughed. He loved Quidditch and Lee's one-sided commentating was one of the highlights of it. Without it, Quidditch might, just might not be the same.
"Great save by Oliver Wood! Too bad, Puecey, try throwing the Quaffle at the hoops instead of the ..."
Suddenly there was a choke, a splutter, and the magical megaphone went silent. The game above was static; George Weasley even forgot to hit the Warrington of Slytherin on the head with his club for pulling a face at him.
McGonagall spoke " Apparently, our commentator has just lost his voice. I suggest we continue the game, until a substitute can be found."
At once, the players burst into action, and Warrington got a club on his head from George. Harry circled the pitch as usual, feeling strangely deaf, without Lee's commentary. He kept an eye out for Malfoy, who was sneering at him as usual.
Five minutes later, McGonagall's voice, magically magnified said, "We have found a substitute commentator, the first volunteer, unfortunately, but I'm sure he'll do...."
Harry wanted to check who it was, but just then a Bludger came whizzing his way, closely followed by Fred, who winked at him. The new commentator had a squeaky kind of voice, which Harry thought sounded strangely familiar....
"Hello, er, everybody. This is the most exciting Squid-itch game I've ever been to, the only one I've ever been to. All right, there, Harry?"
Harry groaned and lowered his gaze, hoping it was all a horrible dream, except he knew it wasn't. Colin Creevey was holding the microphone and waved at him cheerfully. Harry pretended to ignore the more than pitiful commentating, hoping Colin would have a clue what was going on, which of course, being from a Muggle family, he didn't.
" Harry Potter is the best Squeaker in the school, aren't you Harry? Harry's got the best broom, too. It's a Fire-blunt isn't it? And he's the bravest...."
"Creevey, would you mind getting on with the match commentary instead of giving our players publicity?" barked McGonagall.
"Okay, Professor. John Angelinason for Gryffindor has the red ball, what's it called? The Waffle, that's right. She passes it onto What's-her-name, who throws it into the big round thing on a stick. What's going on? Why is everyone cheering?"
Harry rolled his eyes.
"I don't know what that girl's name is, the one holding the stick, but I think she's in Gryffindor. She's wearing red, anyway."
"Hey! That's ME you're talking about!" roared Fred Weasley.
"The other red-headed person has just hit a Blusher at someone wearing green's stomach. They don't seem very happy about it. I wonder why, do you think he got out of the wrong side of bed?"
Harry rolled his eyes, thinking McGonagall couldn't have picked a worse commentator.
"The Waffle is in a Slytherin's hands now. He's thrown it at one of those weird-looking tall spoons, but Oliver Woody catches it. That wasn't very nice, Oliver, you stopped his ball. That was very naughty. See? Even he thinks so - he's hitting you on the head. Hey, why is Madame Hooch whistling? Foul? What foul?"
Wood rubbed his head where Adrian Puecey had hit him, pulling a face at Colin.
"Penalty to Gryffindor for some reason," Colin said. " Katie Belly-Flop puts it through the hoop, and everyone's happy, though I can't think why....
"What's that? Harry is flying away from someone wearing green. Hang on, I know him! he's the kid that's always being naughty to Harry. Ignore him, Harry, he's just a bully. And he's jealous of you. He doesn't have a Fire-jolt, or a nice scar, like you have. Or messy hair, see? His is all neat and tidy. Besides, I don't like green. I think red's a much nicer colour, don't you think?"
Malfoy had been charging at Harry at full speed, hoping to knock him off his broom. Harry avoided him by inches, sending him crashing into Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain.
" Well, done, Harry! That was great! You're a great flyer Harry! Malfunction missed you and crashed into Mark Flintstone! Hee hee, you show him, Harry!"
Something golden whooshed past Alicia Spinnet's elbow. Harry froze for a second, before diving.
" Wow! I think Harry's spotted the Golden Schnitzel! Great dive, Harry! Hang on, I'll go and get my camera...."
There was a pause, followed by a distant clicking sound, and a very disgruntled shout from McGonagall....
"CREEVEY!"