Title: My Name is Harry Potter
Author: Catie
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Madame Hooch, and Quidditch are not mine. They are all Ms. Rowling's. Please do not sue. I have absolutely no money at all, having spent it all on gifts for friends and family this holiday season. No sue. Suing baaad.
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive.
Summary: A little ride on Harry's broomstick (no, not that, get your mind OUT of the gutter...)
A/N: This started out as a "My name is Mary Lennox" writing exercise, then evolved.
My name is Harry Potter. I'm supposed to be famous, a legend, but really I'm just a boy. When I'm here, at the Quidditch field, all I am is the rush of the wind, the sweep of the broom, the taste of the rain, and the smell of the damp air. This is my playground, my sanctuary, my home away from home.
High above the pitch I hover, searching for that glint of gold in the greens and browns of the dampened muddy grasses that make up the field, or in the stormy blue gray of the cloud filled sky.
I circle the pitch slowly, my eyes constantly moving, searching. The other cries from the game are distant, far below, reaching my ears, but not penetrating my senses. Finally, I find my target, my eyes narrowing to that glitter of color hovering a foot above the rain soaked field.
WOOSH! Down I plummet, feeling the supreme ecstasy in the dive, greeting the wet earth with that on golden speck as it rushes up to meet my face.
When I near the ground, I bite my lip in concentration so hard that it bleeds. A coppery taste fills my mouth, but I felt the pain almost as a mere observer, for there's far more important things that my brain needs to be focused on right now.
My arm reaches out, stretching towards my ultimate prize, the golden snitch. Fingers attached to a roughly callused hand stretch to grip it. Triumphantly they close around the small winged ball, and I allow my lips a large, victorious grin before I topple gently to the muddy ground.
I roll across the ground snitch still held tightly in my fist, till I lie flat on my back. My gold and crimson quidditch robes are stained with cool mud, and I know I'm grinning like a fool, but I can't help it.
"Potter!" says a harsh but concerned voice above me. "You alright?"
Before I can even answer, I hear Hermione's voice say, "Oh dear!" worriedly, and see a large square hand, offering to help me up. I take it, and barely am able to stand up before Ron claps me heartily on the back.
"Harry, that was wicked!"
Hermione offers me a small smile and adds; "It was rather exhilarating to watch that dive."
My grin spreads impossibly wider across my face, and I feel as if I could burst with happiness.
"Mr. Potter!" I turn, realizing that Madame Hooch is still waiting for an answer to her question.
"Never better," I tell her with honesty. "Never better."
A/N: OK, so this is still fluff, but at least it's better written than my fist fic, and it's not romantic fluff. At least that's one point better!
Author: Catie
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Madame Hooch, and Quidditch are not mine. They are all Ms. Rowling's. Please do not sue. I have absolutely no money at all, having spent it all on gifts for friends and family this holiday season. No sue. Suing baaad.
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive.
Summary: A little ride on Harry's broomstick (no, not that, get your mind OUT of the gutter...)
A/N: This started out as a "My name is Mary Lennox" writing exercise, then evolved.
My name is Harry Potter. I'm supposed to be famous, a legend, but really I'm just a boy. When I'm here, at the Quidditch field, all I am is the rush of the wind, the sweep of the broom, the taste of the rain, and the smell of the damp air. This is my playground, my sanctuary, my home away from home.
High above the pitch I hover, searching for that glint of gold in the greens and browns of the dampened muddy grasses that make up the field, or in the stormy blue gray of the cloud filled sky.
I circle the pitch slowly, my eyes constantly moving, searching. The other cries from the game are distant, far below, reaching my ears, but not penetrating my senses. Finally, I find my target, my eyes narrowing to that glitter of color hovering a foot above the rain soaked field.
WOOSH! Down I plummet, feeling the supreme ecstasy in the dive, greeting the wet earth with that on golden speck as it rushes up to meet my face.
When I near the ground, I bite my lip in concentration so hard that it bleeds. A coppery taste fills my mouth, but I felt the pain almost as a mere observer, for there's far more important things that my brain needs to be focused on right now.
My arm reaches out, stretching towards my ultimate prize, the golden snitch. Fingers attached to a roughly callused hand stretch to grip it. Triumphantly they close around the small winged ball, and I allow my lips a large, victorious grin before I topple gently to the muddy ground.
I roll across the ground snitch still held tightly in my fist, till I lie flat on my back. My gold and crimson quidditch robes are stained with cool mud, and I know I'm grinning like a fool, but I can't help it.
"Potter!" says a harsh but concerned voice above me. "You alright?"
Before I can even answer, I hear Hermione's voice say, "Oh dear!" worriedly, and see a large square hand, offering to help me up. I take it, and barely am able to stand up before Ron claps me heartily on the back.
"Harry, that was wicked!"
Hermione offers me a small smile and adds; "It was rather exhilarating to watch that dive."
My grin spreads impossibly wider across my face, and I feel as if I could burst with happiness.
"Mr. Potter!" I turn, realizing that Madame Hooch is still waiting for an answer to her question.
"Never better," I tell her with honesty. "Never better."
A/N: OK, so this is still fluff, but at least it's better written than my fist fic, and it's not romantic fluff. At least that's one point better!
