Author's Note: I did not write Hagrid's vernacular. I tried several times and I couldn't get it right, so I give up. I plead artistic license!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Chapter 13: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
The wind whipped Adrienne's hair and face as she followed Harry, shivering furiously, out of the castle. Adrienne tightened her grip on her Firebolt and bowed her head against the gale that was trying with all its might to push her back.
"This will be an interesting game," she yelled to Harry.
Harry cast a quick glance at the dull gray sky and nodded his agreement. "There always is something wrong with the first game. Always. My first year a Death Eater tried to curse me off my broom, my second year I lost all the bones in my arm, and my third year we had the pleasure of hosting a hoard of dementors," said Harry, turning his head so Adrienne would be able to hear him.
"And your fifth year we'll be the victims of a murderous gale bent on ripping us off our brooms and sending us pummeling towards certain death a hundred feet below," Adrienne replied sardonically.
Harry stopped in his tracks and turned. "Well aren't we a stunning model of optimism today," he said sarcastically.
Adrienne shrugged and pushed her way into the locker room.
"Finally!" called a hysterical voice. Alicia Spinnet crossed the room in a second, her face a mixture between extreme anger and relief. "We thought you wouldn't make it!" she said, nearly shouting, "We wouldn't be able to play without a seeker, what did you think you were doing!"
Harry cast an amused face to George who mouthed, "She's just a little stressed out."
Alicia threw a scarlet robe to Harry and one to Adrienne.
"The game doesn't begin for twenty minutes, Alicia, take a breath and settled down," said Harry, pulling off his black school robes and pulling his Quidditch robes over his shorts and T-shirt, desperately wishing he would have worn something warmer.
Alicia choose to ignore Harry and instead turned her attention back to the team. "So, as ever with our Quidditch luck, we've been given a day that has a horrendous wind that most likely won't even allow us to hear Lee's commentary and we have to play Slytherin . And we all know that with their extra bulk the wind won't be as much as a bother to them. We cannot let them win! We need to start out the season with a win. I've seen them practice, and they've improved, WE HAVE TO WIN!" Alicia continued to rant for five minutes, every other phrase consisting of 'WE HAVE TO WIN' and finally collapsed onto a bench, red faced and out of breath.
Adrienne watched the scene in astonishment. "Is Quidditch always this competitive here?" she asked Harry.
"Always, especially between us and Slytherin; she's right, we can't afford to lose this one," Harry replied, standing up and making his way over to Alicia to tell her that if he had any say in it, Slytherin wouldn't even get a chance to score. This cheered Alicia up right away, her mind obviously skipping over the odds of Harry catching the snitch in the first seconds of the game.
Adrienne got up and walked around the locker room, which was now extremely silent. She placed her Firebolt on a bench and stretched her arms above her, her mind slipping back to the Defense class from a week ago. She still hadn't told anyone what had happened in there, and no one had asked. Adrienne held her right hand out in front of her to stare at the still bright triangle burn mark; she also hadn't written to Professors Glenn and Hartel to tell them that their beautiful gift had been reduced to ash and its outline now adorned her palm. She didn't know quite how she would begin a letter like that.
"What you looking at, Adrienne?" asked Harry, walking up next to her.
Adrienne quickly dropped her hand and shrugged. "Nothing really, just thinking," she said turning to Harry and smiling.
Harry could tell she wasn't telling the truth but didn't have the faintest idea what she was hiding. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.
"You're not nervous are you?" he asked, fully aware of the butterflies that had been tormenting him all morning, just as they had before every game since he began playing.
Adrienne smiled. "No, are you?"
"No."
* * * * *
"And now, after a year's hiatus, what we have all been anxiously waiting for since the start of the term . . . this year's first Quidditch match," resounded Lee Jordan's voice, miraculously holding its own against the ferocious gale. The entire stadium watched with bated breath as seven players clad in scarlet and seven clad in emerald walked onto the field.
"There's Harry," said Hermione, nudging Ron.
Ron stood up and stared down onto the field. "And there's Adrienne," he replied, sitting down happily.
"And what a game this will be; long time rivals Slytherin and Gryffindor will go head to head to open what many of us are thinking to be the most competitive Quidditch season Hogwarts as seen in a long while."
The players had now lined themselves up opposite of each other and were giving one another their traditional pre-game threatening faces. A tall, burly boy Adrienne had never met loomed in front of her, glaring menacingly. Adrienne raised her eyebrows and smiled a pleasant smile in response.
"Playing for Gryffindor: Bell, Creevey, Miles, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Potter!" called out Lee, and the stadium filled with a burst of cheer that drowned out the tumultuous roar of the wind.
"And playing for Slytherin: Bole, Danhof, Derrick, Lesant, Montague, Volstechy, and Malfoy!" The avid cheers from the Slytherin end no doubt were present, but against the roar of the gale, no one heard them.
Madam Hooch walked quickly onto the field, her broomstick under her left arm and a large crate in her hands. She set the box on the ground, mounted her broom, and looked toward Spinnet and Montague.
"Captains, shake hands," she said, screaming against the wind. Spinnet and Montague reached across the invisible line that divided the two teams and quickly touched their hands, dropping them almost instantaneously to show their disgust.
Madam Hooch raised her whistle to her mouth. "Players mount your brooms!"
In unison the fourteen players slid onto their brooms.
"On my mark!"
And with a barely audible whistle, the players flew into the air.
"And Montegue has the quaffle," called Lee, as Montegue made his way towards little Colin Creevey, who hovered anxiously, yet determinedly in front of the Gryffindor goalposts.
"And here come the Weasleys; they'll have to aim perfectly to stop Montegue."
Fred raised his club and sent a bludger soaring towards Montegue. Montegue ducked and shot, the quaffle soaring through the air. Out of no where came the second bludger, which George had hit with all his might, biting his tongue in the process. George's bludger and the quaffle met with a loud smack that no one except Creevey and Montegue could hear. The quaffle flew off track and Alicia caught it, flipping over in mid air and making her way like lightening across the field.
"Look out, Alicia, that bozo is after you!" called Lee, standing up in his chair.
"Lee," warned Professor McGonagall; she had promised herself that Lee wouldn't be getting away with any of his antics this year.
"Bole has sent a nasty bludger her way and its intercepted by a sharp hit by Weasley, never mind which one."
A loud groan spread over the crowd.
"Damn it, and Volstechy has intercepted the quaffle," said Lee, turning quickly so that McGonagall couldn't wrench the magical megaphone from him.
Harry watched the activity from above; Fred had sent a bludger at Volstechy and the quaffle fell. Harry watched as Adrienne sped towards it, catching it easily and flattening herself on her Firebolt, heading towards a group of Slytherins who had seemed to try and make a human wall to stop her. Unfortunately for them, Adrienne didn't stop and flew at top speed right towards them, clipping Montegue's shoulder.
"And now it's just Miles and Slytherin's excellent keeper, Danhof. She shoots, 10-0 Gryffindor!" yelled Lee.
The stadium burst into applause and Harry sent a thumb's up to Adrienne before returning his mind to searching for the snitch. He flew higher, passing Malfoy who gave Harry a very dirty face.
"And its Volstechy, intercepted by Bell, to Spinnet, back to Bell, to Miles. Watch out for those bludgers, and I don't believe it, 20-0!" "30-0!"
"70-0"
"110-0 and Miles is on a roll, scoring 5 out of the 11 goals for Gryffindor, and oh shit, would you look at that!" yelled Lee.
"Mr. Jordan!" yelled Professor McGonagall, drawing her wand, determined to just summon that megaphone; however, she stopped upon realizing what had caused such an outburst.
Harry had gone into a magnificent dive, flying literally straight downwards, his hand reaching out to catch the snitch. Malfoy was no where close to catching him, but just as Harry was about to close the deal, Bole and Derrick had both sent their bludgers his way, making him turn up quickly to avoid being hit on both sides.
"And the snitch disappears," sighed Lee angrily.
The wind was picking up even worse now, which did not benefit Gryffindor at all.
"These light Gryffindor Chasers are not fairing well against the wind," commented Lee, as Katie Bell flew off course for the third time during the last several minutes. With Gryffindor's Chaser's inability to maintain their direction, no points were being scored, and Slytherin was taking the advantage.
"And its Lesant, to Montegue, to Volstechy. We haven't seen young Creevey yet. Will he hold up - and Volstechy shoots!"
Colin's eyes widened in fear as the quaffle sped towards him and banked hard to the right, catching the quaffle easily.
"Well, that answers our questions about Creevey, bring it on Slytherin! Bring it on!" yelled Lee.
Harry circled the pitch; he had not yet seen the snitch again. Fortunately, neither had Malfoy, and it was obvious that this was beginning to bother him. Malfoy was casting angry glances at the scoreboard, cursing silently under his breath.
"That stupid Miles girl," he muttered, changing directions suddenly, his glare becoming more menacing as Lee's voice echoed throughout the stadium.
"And its Miles again, she hasn't missed a shot yet, and look at her go. Just like Potter she as a Firebolt and boy can she fly. Danhof just can't hold her, its 120 - 0 Gryffindor!"
As Harry's ears filled with applause, he saw it, the Snitch, hovering inches off the ground in the center of the pitch. He shot a quick glance at Malfoy. Malfoy was much closer, and Harry realized, Firebolt or not, he wouldn't make it. No one had yet noticed the presence of the snitch, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Malfoy did. Harry dived, diagonally across the field away from the snitch and Malfoy followed. Harry slowed down and as Malfoy leveled with him he flipped over. Now flying upside down, he hurtled toward the snitch and spiraled back right-side-up. He dove steeper, and with a swipe of his hand Lee's voice rang through the crowd.
"And with a spectacular show of his mastership of a broom, Harry Potter has captured the snitch, bringing the score to, I don't believe it, 270 - 0 Gryffindor!"
Cheers burst through the gale and Harry flew back up into the air to meet his teammates. Returning to a height of one hundred and fifty feet, Malfoy glared at him and cast another hateful glance towards the scoreboard.
"Pathetic," he yelled and turned with the intentions of flying back to the Slytherin locker room entrance; however, right ahead of him, flying slowly, trying to put her hair back into a bun was Adrienne, holding onto her Firebolt with only her legs.
Before Adrienne knew what was happening Malfoy had flew into her, cleverly making it look like a complete accident, and with a terrified scream Adrienne toppled off her broom. Everyone watched horrified as she fell, her arms and legs failing wildly. Adrienne's screams stopped dead as she saw the ground rushing up to meet her.
Harry turned just in time to see her fall and in an instant was speeding towards her. Time seemed to stop as Adrienne closed her eyes, waiting for it to end. Without thinking, she reached her right arm up to the sky. As Harry sped towards her, her Firebolt, now floating lazily where Adrienne had left it entered a steep dive. And as her heart rose in her chest, she felt something grab her wrist.
"Hold on Adrienne!" shouted Harry, as he slid sideways off his Firebolt, holding one-handedly onto Adrienne and gripping his Firebolt with only his knees and left hand. Try as he could, hanging there like that, he was not in a position to actually fly.
The crowd watched anxiously as Harry hovered fifty feet off the ground, holding desperately onto Adrienne. Adrienne looked into his eyes, too afraid to speak, silently pleading with him not to let go. The rest of the Gryffindor team was flying towards them as fast as they could; however, just as Harry's grip slipped, Adrienne's Firebolt arrived. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, she pulled her body up onto her broomstick, Harry pulled himself back onto his Firebolt, and the two flew to the ground.
Adrienne toppled off, shaking madly; her breath completely ragged, and tears welling in her eyes.
"Are you ok, Adrienne?"
"Miss Miles, what happened?"
"You scared us, Adrienne!"
All the voices ran together and with a bemused glance around, she fainted.
* * * * *
Adrienne walked into the dungeons, following Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Adrienne smiled to herself. As she had hung there, in midair, as Harry had clung on desperately to her wrist, Adrienne had felt the oddest feeling. Hanging there, unable to speak, staring into his eyes, pleading, they had formed a bond. Not one of a best friend, or boyfriend, or anything like that; she couldn't place her finger on it, but something changed between them that instant, and even if it had only happened two days ago, she could already see a difference.
Harry treated Ron like a best friend, and now that he and Hermione were officially an item, he treated her like how a perfect gentleman would treat the girl of his dreams. But Adrienne, he treated her with a respect and protectionistic attitude that she had only received from Professor Glenn. In the past two days Harry had taken Adrienne's wellbeing upon himself. First off, avenging her fall.
Malfoy hadn't seen it coming, literally. He Crabbe and Goyle and been walking up from their common room when Ron and Harry had appeared before them, wearing Harry's invisibility cloak. With a few choice words and inspiration from the fake Moody, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were transfigured into three ugly goats. And Harry, having spent ample time with Hermione studying the art of conjuring, conjured up three signs around the goats' neck. Crabbe's reading Stupid, Goyle's reading Stupider, and Malfoy's reading Stupidest.
After some confused discussion between the professors, Professor McGonagall transfigured the goats back, and even though Malfoy and Professor Snape were sure that Harry had done it, no proof was evident, and Malfoy and his cronies had spent the rest of Sunday seething.
* * * * *
"My Lord, when do you plan on calling the Dementors?" asked Peter Pettigrew, shaking slightly.
Voldemort leaned back in his chair and brought the tips of his long fingers together in front of him. "Soon, Wormtail, soon," he whispered, a trace of a smile developing on his face.
"And the envoys to the giants?" Voldemort's smile quickly faded. "I sent Lucius last week; they have denied."
"What, my Lord?"
"That meddling fool, Dumbledore, got to them first! They will pay though, Wormtail, they will pay with their blood," spat Voldemort, his left arm reaching for the box on the table next to his throne-like chair. He opened the box and lifted out the Golden Serpent. "They will all pay, all of them."
Wormtail stood silently, twisting his fingers in front of him, the flickering torchlight reflecting off his glittering hand.
"The Perfect will be mine, and she will hand us everything, Wormtail; with her on our side, nothing can stop us."
"And how will you make her turn against her brother?" asked Wormtail, seriously doubting the feasibility of Voldemort's new plan.
"She will have no choice; she will obey us," whispered Voldemort, stroking the pendant.
"And if she doesn't?" asked Pettigrew rather bravely.
Voldemort looked up at him maliciously and drew his wand. "Are you doubting me again, Wormtail? Because if you are . . ."
"No, no, My Lord, it's just, she's a Potter, and your luck with killing Potters hasn't been that um, well . . ."
"You mistake me, I don't want her dead; she is of no use to me dead. There is a dark side to everyone, Wormtail, and all I have to do is find the key to let it escape," said Voldemort coldly. Wormtail swallowed.
"And how do you plan to kill Harry this time, My Lord?"
Voldemort's face broke into a malicious smile, and his eyes shone with a crude excitement. "Harry will not escape me this time; his sister will see to that, Wormtail; his sister will see to that."