Author's note: this is my first fic, so be nice. And none of these people belong to me. Surprisingly, I only own a few people, and they're too busy kissing the ground a walk on and making me Belgian waffles to be in this story, so there.
Chapter Two
"C'mon, gerrup Harry!" Harry awoke to Ron poking his head with a broomstick. The sun was barely shining through the small window, illuminating the orange décor of Ron's room. "The team is downstairs waiting!" goaded Ron, shoving Harry's glasses onto his face.
"It's not 2 already, is it?" Harry asked, crawling into his newly acquired Chudley Cannons jersey (a present from Fred and George).
"No, only seven, but they all showed up early." Harry grumbled and made for the bed, until Ron threw in that Cho was asking about him.
"What'd she say?" Harry cried as he jammed his feet into his sneakers, not minding the laces.
"She asked if you would marry her! Honestly, she just asked if you were here and if you approved of her being on the team."
"And what did you tell her?"
"I told her that if you weren't downstairs in two seconds, it meant you though she was a blast-ended skrewt. So get a move on!"
They both ran down the stairs so fast that Harry nearly tripped and stumbled right into Cho.
"HI, Harry," she giggled, as he picked he glasses off the floor.
"Honestly, you two should be more careful!" came a stern voice from behind Harry and Ron. Ah, the good old Hermione was back.
The team practiced every morning and afternoon between then and the match, Ron because he really wanted to beat Draco Malfoy, but everyone else because it was so fun. To everyone's surprise, Hermione had improved vastly at flying and, by the week's end, she was almost as good a Chaser as Ron, much to his embarrassment. Angelina and the Weasley brothers kept saying that Professor McGonagall was bound to make Harry team captain this year. Cho, much to Harry's delight, agreed, adding that he was better than Ravenclaw's captain by scores. The time flew by and soon it was the morning of the 17th. Once everyone showed up at the Burrow, they all piled into the car that Mr. Weasley had borrowed from an old Gryffindor alumnus at the Ministry. It was a tight fit, squeezing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the Quidditch team (which Ron had wanted to call SPEW just to make fun if Hermione, but had eventually been named the Burrow Defenders) and Ginny into one non-bewitched car, but they managed to make it to Hogsmeade Park in one piece. Harry wondered why it took them an entire day to get to Hogwarts and only two hours to get to Hogsmeade, but he didn't bother asking, since Hermione was bound to bring up something from Hogwarts, A History.
Hogsmeade was buzzing with magical people from all over the world, not to mention Hogwarts students. Hoping to calm everyone's nerves, Harry led them to the Three Broomsticks for a round of butterbeer, but it was no use. Too many Slytherins were prowling about, wearing pins that flashed "Potter Stinks", remnants from last year's tournament.
"Well, let's go to the bleachers," suggested Mr. Weasley, sensing that Fred was moments away from getting into a brawl with a few fifth-years that were making snide remarks about his tattered Quidditch robes. Once they reached the field, Harry could see a small group of people in the middle of the stands, holding banners that cheered him on.
"All right, Harry?" boomed Hagrid above the din of the crowd. There was still twenty minutes before the start of the match, so they all made their way over to their small, but very enthusiastic, fan club, which included Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, the Patel sisters, Hagrid and Mad-Eye Moody (Harry let out a sigh of relief that neither of the Creevey brothers were there to take pictures and ask stupid questions).
"So this is Harry Potter?" greeted Moody. Harry had gotten used to Moody's scarred face a roving eye, at least to the point where he didn't stare too much. What Harry had not gotten used to was the fact that the man who had called himself Moody and had taught Harry all last year was not the same man that stood before him.
"Hello, Professor Moody," he greeted.
"Nope, not a professor anymore. More important things to be done these days, as I'm sure you know."
Ron, a little disappointed that they would be facing another new teacher, asked Hagrid if he knew who the professor for the Defense against Dark Arts class was going to be, but he said he didn't know. "As long as it's not Snape," Ron muttered. Harry shared that opinion, as Snape hated all Gryffindors, but especially him.
"I doubt Severus Snape will ever get his hands on that class. Dumbledore's a trusting man, but he's not stupid. No decent parent would be comfortable with a man with his past teaching the dark arts." Harry was relieved to find Moody that had the same opinion of Snape as he did, even if he was known for being a bit paranoid.
After wearing away the time by talking about how rotten the entire Malfoy family was, Harry led the team out towards the field. Fred and George Weasley gave a perfect imitation of Oliver Wood's old pep talk and the seven of them walked to midfield, where Draco Malfoy, and a gang of burly Slytherins, were waiting, all looking rather foul.
"Well, Weasley, I see your parents still haven't saved up enough for decent robes," sneered Malfoy, pointing up at Ron's parents. Hermione had a job of holding Ron and his brothers back, but Harry just returned Malfoy's scowl.
"Notice you parents didn't even care enough to show up."
"There's no need for them to wish me luck, as I will inevitably win."
"More like your father didn't want all of his friends to see what a loser you are."
"My father has more important things to do, where as Weasley's dad won't be missed at his pathetic little job, and your dad, well, he's dead."
Smack! Cho punched Draco square in the nose, just before Hermione slapped him hard across the face, bringing color to his pallid face. Malfoy put a hand up to stop Crabbe, his faithful and moronic sidekick, from retaliating, instead shouting at Harry, "You better put a leash on the little Mudblood if you know what's good for you." At this, Ron went mad and lunged for Draco's throat, only to be caught mid-air by Hermione.
"Don't," she whispered. "We'll get him up in the air, but don't start a fight like this. No one else can hear what he's saying and you'll only get in trouble."
Normally, Ron wouldn't have taken Hermione's advice, but Harry had begun to notice, even if Ron hadn't, that there was something going on between the two of them. Either way, Ron backed off and attention was returned to the game.
"We decided that we will have no referee for this match, as it's more fun this way," announced Malfoy, whose nose had finally stopped bleeding.
"Whatever you say," countered Fred, who was eager to beat a few bludgers at Draco's smug face.
The fourteen players took off in a fury, all hoping to make fools of their opponents. Within the first ten minutes, however, Malfoy and his team had scored fifty points, aided more by their fast brooms than by skill. Harry soared above the field, keeping an eye out for Draco and stray bludgers and, more importantly, the golden snitch. Malfoy had abandoned his old technique, however, and instead of staying on Harry's tail the entire game, he was off looking for the snitch by himself. Harry was glad for it, too, because, just after Hermione scored the team's first goal, Harry saw the snitch zoom right beneath Cho's robes. Making sure that none of the Slytherins were looking his way, Harry started a quick dive towards the snitch. He was within ten feet of it when he was hit hard in the face. Thrown off balance by the blow, and blinded by the combination of a bloody nose and broken glasses, Harry slipped off of his broom and began to plummet to the ground thirty feet below. Lucky for him, Hermione had been watching and, using her excellent background in Charms and the wand she had made sure to bring, she summoned three large cushions that some older wizards had been sitting on in the crowd. Harry landed rather hard on the cushions, but the fall did not leave him with any broken bones, besides his nose. At that moment, Ron shouted for a time out and the entire team, as well as Hagrid and the Weasleys, came down to see if Harry was ok. After Mr. Weasley had fixed Harry's glasses and Hermione gave him a rag to stop his nose from bleeding, Ron let out a string of words that Harry was sure he would never had normally used in front of his mother. Luckily, Hagrid was also screaming, so Ron's curses were not heard.
"It was that rotten Goyle!" Fred yelled. "I saw him race right towards you and purposely hit you with his stick!" Goyle was one of the Beaters on Draco's team.
"Actually, I was a bit surprised that the Slytherins hadn't pulled something dirty earlier," said Harry. "But don't worry about me, I'm fine, thanks to Hermione. Let's just get back up there."
"Oh, Harry, don't! They're just awful and someone's going to get killed," said Cho. Harry hoped she wouldn't notice the smile on his face for hearing her worry about him.
"No, we'll be fine. Let's just get up there and get this thing over with."
So the game resumed, with the Defenders taking back the lead. The Slytherins continued to cheat their way around the field, going as far as doing a Tickling charm on Cho, which kept her from blocking three goals. Still, despite the temptation, Harry's team played a relatively clean game (not counting when George did a Leg-locking curse on Malfoy, which must have been very painful with the broom between his legs). About twenty minutes later, when the Defenders were ahead by thirty points, Harry saw a glint of gold about two inches from the ground. Without bothering to check where Malfoy was, he did a steep nose-dive and held out his hand. Landing harder than he would have liked to, Harry dismounted from his broom and looked up at the sky. Most of the players on both sides had not even noticed that Harry had landed, and from the field, Harry could see Crabbe hit in the head with a bludger and falling off his broom, only to land on Draco, who was a few feet below him. Once he was done laughing, Harry held up his hand, which was cupped around the Golden Snitch.
"Oy! Ron! I'm done whenever you are!" he yelled up to his Chaser. All of the players flew to a dead stop, with a look of shock on each of their faces. How had they not noticed that the game was over? That the Slytherins had lost? Immediately there was an uproar in the crowd. Harry was glad to see that his friends had left the stand, because soon a massive brawl broke out between the two sides (Harry suspected that the real fight was over something much bigger than this one Quidditch match, but he kept it to himself). Within seconds, Harry was surrounded by his team. He even got a hug from Cho, but what was more shocking was when he caught Hermione giving Ron a big kiss on his cheek. A few years ago, Hermione had hugged the two of them, much to their disgust. But this time, Ron just pretended not to notice, which Harry found very amusing.
After the celebrations died down, the team made their way to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate some more and to clean up. As they walked, Mrs. Weasley complained about the way the Slytherins' parents had raised their children to be scoundrels, George detailed the look of horror he had seen on Malfoy's face when his legs had been separated with the help of Crabbe and Goyle, and Mr. Weasley asked how Muggles played "sock-her", as Mr. Weasley was always fascinated with the Muggle world. They reached the restaurant and the team headed into the washrooms to change and wipe the dirt and blood off their faces.
As Ron examined his cut lip in the mirror, Harry sat thinking. "I know it was a tough game, but aren't you a little surprised that it wasn't worse?" he asked.
"Worse! You nearly got killed, need I remind you?" Ron exclaimed. But by the look on his face, Harry could see that he was thinking the same thing. Normally, run-ins with Draco Malfoy were not as harmless. "What, do you think Malfoy's planning something for after the game?" he asked.
"Maybe," answered Harry.
"Well, the crowd sure got worked up. Maybe that's part of his plan, if he was hoping to stir something up. Listen to that, it's still going on." Ron was right. Shouts from the Quidditch field could still be heard, even inside. "That can't be about the game, can it? Maybe something else has happened."
Harry and Ron rejoined the rest back at the table. Hagrid was looking flushed, having gone through several pints of ale already. The Weasleys were in deep conversation with Moody. Hermione, too, looked rather serious.
"When do you reckon they'll stop fighting?" Ron asked the table as they sat down.
"I think this is rather immature," answered Hermione. "I mean, most of the people out there are adults! If this is about the game, they really need to grow up."
"That's just it," said Harry. "I don't think this is about the game, not really anyway."
Mrs. Weasley nodded in agreement. "People are starting to believe that You-Know-Who is coming back and it's getting everyone antsy. The people outside are probably just blowing off some steam."
Suddenly, there was a piercing scream from outside. "And there's the tea kettle now," joked Fred, but no one was in the mood to listen.
"Wait here," said Mr. Weasley has he headed towards the window. Harry, Ron and Hermione obeyed for a few seconds before rushing after him, and there, they saw what the fuss was about. Across the street stood nearly fifty Death Eaters and, at their feet, were seven wizards, writhing in pain. Moody, who had come up behind Harry, softly growled, "It has begun."