CHAPTER 19
25 September 1992, Quidditch Pitch - 11:04AM
"Ladies and Gentlewizards welcome to the much anticipated first Quidditch match of the illustrious season! And it's a crowd favorite: GRYFFINDOR VS. SLYTHERIN!" Lee Jordan's magically amplified voice thundered out as the crowd roared in eager excitement.
The Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams met in the center of the pitch to shake hands, eyeing each other with mutual distrust and disdain. While Jim glared at Harry with barely concealed anger as his younger twin ignored him, Draco spent that time studying his rival Seeker. The boy seemed incredibly tense yet also exhausted, with obvious dark bags under his eyes. He'd instigated with Harry the previous night before dinner just outside the Great Hall, bellowing at the top of his lungs that Harry had "stolen his cloak" and left a "calling card" (whatever that meant). Harry had outright denied but Jim had been beyond furious; the two had gotten into violent fisticuffs all while Jim screamed abuse at his brother, before being separated by Professor Snape (but not before Jim got in a particularly vicious nose-breaking punch). Snape had been absolutely furious, taking thirty points from the boy and assigning him two weeks of detention in the Potions dungeon.
Shaking off his thoughts, Draco mounted his broom after Madame Hooch blew her whistle (after demanding a "good clean game"), and the two teams took to the air. Jim flew up high above the other players before finally noticing that Draco was following him instead of Harry.
"What are you doing up here, Malfoy?" Jim said contemptuously.
"Looking for the Golden Snitch, Potter. It's what Seekers do."
Jim laughed. "So Flint decided to swap you and Harry after his fiasco in our pickup match?"
"Oh no," said Draco easily. "I've always been the Seeker, and your brother's always been a Chaser. We just thought it would be fun to switch during that pick-up game. You know – for a laugh."
And then, Draco smiled at the Boy-Who-Lived.
He'd actually been put out the week prior when Harry had stood him in front of a bathroom mirror for twenty minutes and made him practice a certain kind of smile, one that Harry said would communicate a message of "I know something you don't know." They'd practiced it for almost the entire week, with Harry wanting to be sure that Draco got it "just right". But seeing the expression of dread that slowly spread over Jim Potter's face suddenly gave Draco a new appreciation for Harry's skill at psychological warfare. For the first time, Draco actually knew - and liked - being on Team Harry.
Down below, the well-oiled Gryffindor scoring machine – Spinnet, Johnson, and Bell – was racing towards the Slytherin goal. Near the goal post, Johnson took the lead, performing her specialty fake-out maneuver to get Keeper Miles Bletchley to veer left before hurling the Quaffle through the right goal. And for a second it seemed like it would work as it usually did... until Bletchley suddenly veered in the opposite direction and slipped into blocking position just as she let go of the ball. It was almost as if he was anticipating the play.
Even more shocking to Johnson was the way Bletchley casually knocked the Quaffle straight down into the waiting arms of Harry Potter who had already circled around into position to catch it and take off. Harry flew down the field like a rocket, weaving around Peregrine Derrick who expertly batted a Bludger away and into Spinnet's path forcing her to abandon pursuit. Potter handed the Quaffle off to Flint who threw it down the field to Adrien Pucey, who immediately took off towards the Gryffindor goals. Oliver Wood readied himself to block, but to his shock, Pucey threw the Quaffle back over his shoulder without even looking and then veered off. Harry was already sweeping round and up in a fast arc to catch it, and he threw the ball through the opposite goal post before Wood could reposition itself. The Slytherins went wild.
"BLOODY HELL!" exclaimed Lee Jordan, eyes blown wide as he gawked in horrified amazement at the spectacular display of Slytherin teamwork. McGonagall was so startled that she forgot to reprimand the boy for his language. Oliver Wood was completely gobsmacked at a perfectly executed play that would have made a professional Quidditch scout sit up and take notice, while high above the stadium, Jim Potter was just as amazed.
"... Bloody Hell!" he yelled.
"What?" asked Draco, yawning in feigned casualness. "Did we score or something? So sorry, I've been concentrating too hard on spotting the Snitch to notice the regular game play. It's quite challenging, you know. Why, the Snitch might as well be invisible!"
Jim turned to scowl at him. "What did you say?"
"I said the Snitch is hard to spot from up here." He regarded Potter as though he'd gone mad. "What did you think I said?" And then, Draco smiled at Jim again.
Jim grunted angrily at his rival Seeker and tried to focus his attention on finding the Snitch himself. But he was increasingly distracted by the activity beneath him, and he couldn't help but watch with mounting frustration as the Slytherins methodically took apart the Gryffindor team. Bletchley seemed attuned to almost every Chaser play. Derrick and Bole were a well-tuned duo that successfully broke up every Weasley Twins to set up a Bludger attack. And bloody fucking Harry gave an increasingly frazzled and agitated Oliver Wood no time to defend himself against the goals he and the two other Chasers were so easily tossing through the was absolute madness!
Just thirty minutes into the game, the score was 90-10 in favor of Slytherin, and there was no sign of the Snitch. Jim had thought that the game couldn't get any worse. But then, naturally, things did. The Slytherins in the stands stood up and began to sing in perfect unison and to the tune of God Save the Queen.
King of the Leprechauns
His brains are made of bronze
He makes us sick.
It's really obvious that
Jim is a total prat
Smart as a Beater's Bat
and just as thick.
Jim growled in anger, noticing that oddly enough, the crowd skipped the verse about Ron being the Lackey to the Leprechaun King, merely repeating the one about him. Potter's teeth ground in mounting frustration.
As Harry recovered the Quaffle and rounded towards the Gryffindor goals with Pucey following behind, he suddenly heard Bole scream "HARRY! LOOK OUT!" Acting on instinct, Harry pulled up sharply and narrowly dodged one of the Bludgers. He glanced back at it and was surprised to see it arc sharply and head back towards him, ignoring three other viable targets in the process. Pouring on the speed, Harry took off towards the center Gryffindor goal. At the last second, he threw the Quaffle off to Flint and then arced up so that his feet cleared the top of the goal by less than a foot. The rogue Bludger (traveling in a slightly shallower arc) actually struck the top of the metal goal with a tremendous force – BOONNNGGG! – that startled the now somewhat shell-shocked Oliver Wood and allowed Flint to score Slytherin's tenth goal of the game.
As soon as the Quaffle went through, Flint immediately started looking for the rogue Bludger which had corrected itself almost immediately and resumed its singular pursuit of Harry Potter.
"TIME OUT!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. Madame Hooch blew her whistle, and at Flint's direction, the rest of the team (minus Harry) quickly assembled at the center of the pitch. Flint signaled to Harry, who came in low with the rogue Bludger following close behind. As it passed through the Slytherins, the two Beaters leaped into it, but even they were surprised when the wretched thing actually drug them twenty feet across the grass before finally coming to a halt. Even then, it struggled against their combined grip, and Bletchley had to leap onto it as well in order to bring it to heel.
"WEASLEYS!" Marcus yelled towards the Gryffindor Beaters who were coming in for a landing for their own team meeting. "WAS THIS YOUR BLOODY DOING?!"
"Take it bloody easy, Flint!" Fred yelled back. "We didn't jinx the Bludgers! Hell, I didn't think it was possible to jinx a Bludger!"
"The two biggest prank-loving arseheads in the whole school are also the Gryffindor Beaters, and it's just a coincidence that one of the Bludgers goes berserk?! You really expect me to believe that you two wankers aren't behind this?! UN-BLOODY-LIKELY!" Flint's face turned an interesting shade of purple as he took an angry step towards the Weasleys.
An incensed Fred took a responding step towards the Slytherin, but George put a firm arm to stop him. "If we could jinx a Bludger, Flint," George said, "we might use it against you, and we'd probably use it against that bigoted prat Bletchley. But we would never use something like that against Harry!"
"Leave it, Flint," said a breathless Harry, who'd come up behind him, followed by Draco. "I know the Twins, and this wasn't them."
"Then who the hell was it?" Flint responded.
"I don't know. Probably the same person responsible for the last two assassination attempts on me." He muttered quietly under his breath: "Though this one seems almost lackluster compared to the Grindylows and those damned nutcrackers." Unfortunately, Harry Potter didn't realize that he'd unwittingly provoked the gods of irony into…responding to the challenge.
Up in the stands, Ron Weasley carefully made his way through the Gryffindor crowd while carrying a box holding a jumbo juice slushie, an extra-large tub of popcorn (with extra butter drizzled on top), and a half-dozen chocolate bars of varying brands. He'd missed the first thirty minutes of the game, seemingly too busy purchasing his mountain of snacks.
"Where have you been mate? You're missing all the excitement!," exclaimed Dean Thomas, eyes focused on the game.
"Well, the line for the bathroom was long. And then, the line for the concession stand was even longer. By the time I finished buying the concessions, I needed to use the bathroom again." He paused to take a hearty sip of his strawberry pumpkin slushie.
"The elves are running the concession stands," replied Seamus, eyeing Ron curiously. "They're usually quite fast with the snacks, there's rarely a line" Ron blinked at the statement before taking another hearty sip of the slushie. Seamus just shrugged when Ron didn't reply, turning his attention back to the game.
"Did you bring us some game pamphlets?" Dean asked, gesturing to the bit of paper sticking out of Ron's jacket. Weasley looked down at the paper before tucking it fully into his pocket.
"Nah, just my homework assignment for McGonagall, forgot it yesterday and she said to turn it to her after the game." Nodding in acceptance, Dean turned his attention back to the game, cheering loudly along with Seamus.
Unbeknownst to either, an intense rat-like gleam briefly shimmered in Ron's eyes before disappearing as he took a long and loud drag on the straw sticking out of the slushie.
At that point, Madame Hooch came flying up. "Flint, you seem to have a rogue Bludger on your hands. The rules say you can continue the game or stop the match and count it as a tie under the Defective Bludger Rule. Your call."
While certainly suspicious under these circumstances, rogue Bludgers were not unheard of. The enchantments placed on Bludgers make them immune to all but the most powerful forms of dark magic, but despite that, every three or four years would see a match in which a Bludger becomes strangely fixated on a particular player and targets him or her to the exclusion of everyone else. Whatever peculiarity caused the strange phenomenon, it could not be remedied just by replacing the defective Bludger with another one – the magic of the Bludgers is interwoven with each individual game, and a new Bludger put into play immediately adopts the exact same predatory conduct of the one it replaced. Thus, the only practical response was the Defective Bludger Rule, which allows the team containing the member targeted by the rogue Bludger the option of canceling the game in favor of a tie or playing on despite the handicap... and the risk of literally being bludgeoned to death.
For a second, Flint looked agonized. Then, Harry grabbed his arm. "Keep playing. I can dodge a Bludger as long as you need me to."
"Harry..." Flint started to protest.
"Trust me. I've got this. I won't be able to make plays with you and Pucey, but maybe I can use the Bludger to disrupt the Gryff Chasers." Harry turned towards Draco. "How's the Git holding out?"
"He was starting to lose it, but it looks like Wood's giving him a pep talk now."
"Stay on him. Turn up the heat. And catch that Snitch! I know you can beat him, Draco!" Harry put his hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezed firmly, smiling confidently at Draco. To Malfoy's surprise, he really did think that Harry believed in him, even when up against a prodigy like Jim. He nodded back with absolute seriousness.
Harry, Marcus, Adrian and Draco took to the skies. Seconds later, the other three Slytherins let the rogue Bludger go and then grabbed their own brooms. Madame Hooch blew her whistle and play resumed, this time with Harry focused solely on evading his relentless pursuer. Meanwhile, Draco flew up to match Jim's altitude close enough to talk.
"Is this how you Gryffindor's win, Potter? Cheating with a rigged Bludger? Or are you just trying to kill your brother again in an even more public manner than last time? Professor Snape can always take more points from you!"
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Jim snarled.
"I hate you. I hate you. I wish you'd died!" Draco said in a mocking nasally whine. "Half the school heard you yell that at Harry last night while you attempted to beat your younger brother to death. You think there's a single student outside of Gryffindor House who doesn't think you're behind this?!"
"I SAID SOD OFF!"
Draco snickered at the other boy but then tensed slightly. The good news was that the Snitch had finally shown up. The bad news was that it was floating ten feet behind Jim Potter, and if the other Seeker noticed it, Draco wouldn't stand a chance. Schooling his face back into a mask of contempt, Draco decided that there was only one thing to do: keep Jim Potter shouting in a rage so that he didn't notice the sound of the Snitch's wings until Draco could distract him and then go after his prize.
Down below, Harry was having some success using the rogue Bludger to shake up the Gryffindor Chasers' screen patterns. Also, the whole situation had incensed Miles Bletchley. He might not have normally cared much for a little Halfblood like Harry Potter, but this was Quidditch! In response, the angry Keeper had kicked his own defense into a furious overdrive. Between the two of them, the Gryffindors were held scoreless. Unfortunately, with only two Slytherin Chasers, Oliver Wood had gotten his own act together and was able to hold the Slytherins to only two more goals. After another fifteen minutes, the score was now 120-10, so the Slytherins needed 50 more points for a Seeker-proof game.
"Still, if nothing else weird happens," thought Harry, "we may actually have this in the bag." From his position in the Slytherin bleachers Blaise felt a distinct chill run down his back, wondering who had been so absolutely foolish as to challenge the gods of irony in a Quidditch game with a rogue Bludger! 'Blimey, I hope I'm not here to the carnage.' Unfortunately, his wish wouldn't be granted.
The Bludger pursuing Harry suddenly froze in its pursuit. The Slytherin team collectively exhaled, thinking the ball had finally returned to normal. It had not. It violently vibrated for a few seconds, before replicating into three Bludgers that then sprouted deadly ink-black stiletto spikes! A horrified gasp sounded through the crowd, as Bludger self-replication should have been impossible! They arranged themselves into a V-formation, before rocketing off after a gawking Harry.
"Bloody buggering hell!" With that exclamation, he shot off and hoped to not be horribly smashed to death.
Shaking off his shock, Lucian Bole knocked the other Bludger towards Alicia Spinnet. It abruptly stopped in mid-air, quivered for a few seconds, before it too replicated into three Bludgers that sprouted a series of chainsaw discs over their relative surfaces. In a similar V-formation, they rocketed off in the direction of Harry and the spiky Bludgers. Aghast, Bole could only helplessly watch, hoping to Merlin, Morgana, and Circe above that Harry Potter wouldn't end up as bloody chunks littering the turf below.
"What the bloody hell is going on up there?!" exclaimed Lily, eyes wide in horrified shock at the appalling scene before her. Her wand was at the ready in case she needed to intervene, points and rogue Bludgers be damned. She was starting to develop a deep personal disdain for the sport, since her other son had almost been killed by his own possessed broomstick the last time Gryffindor had faced off against Slytherin.
"I'm not certain," replied Severus, quietly surveying the scene as his face pinched in worry. His brow suddenly quirked in epiphany as he turned to his best friend: "I believe our rogue elves may have something to do with this." Lily's eyes widened before they narrowed dangerously. In a flash she quietly cast a spell: "SCRUTIMINUS ELVES". Her wand tip glowed pink and slowly spun in her palm like a compass needle, before stopping directly to point at her! She swore viciously whilst Severus sighed in irritation.
"Well, looks like we won't be finding them any time soon. They've rendered themselves impervious to detection spells. Fitting." He snorted and turned his attention back to the game. "We'll just have to hope that Harry is able to outfly them long enough for Draco to catch the Snitch. We'll be ready to intervene if the situation…worsens." Lily leveled an incredulous stare at Severus, wondering what the hell could possibly be worse than this!
Harry was focused solely on speed and evasion when his attention was captured by the loud repeated clanging sounds from behind him. Sparing a glance behind him, Harry was shocked to see that there were now six Bludgers on his tail. The Bludgers with the chainsaws were clambering to cut off the stiletto spikes off the other Bludgers, though it wasn't as effective since the spikes kept regrowing. Harry actually laughed. "Unbelievable! Six rogue Bludgers! And they're fighting over which one gets to pound me into beefsteak! Ha-Ha!"
Now giggling hysterically, Harry poured on the speed and set a course to skirt just inside the arena's retaining wall. He hoped that with a little luck some of the Bludgers would knock the other into the wall that would perhaps disable them. His thoughts were on the right track. After a few seconds, one of the chainsaw Bludgers veered off the course by a few yards before slamming and blasting through the retaining wall, leaving a five-foot diameter hole in it. From somewhere behind him, Harry heard the sounds of wood being smashed, as two of the spiky Bludgers tore through the support struts for the audience stands. Harry hoped they were strong enough to resist collapsing with over a thousand spectators on hand. Not to be outdone, one of the chainsaw Bludgers increased its speed to cut off one of Spikers, before rushing forward and thrusting itself through it, rendering it to several pieces that fell to the ground below. The other Spiker didn't take too well to that; the spikes lengthened to over a foot long before driving itself through the chainsaw bludger spearing and shaking it violently before tossing it aside once it went limp. Satisfied, it continued its vicious pursuit against Harry as its remaining comrade joined.
Harry cursed and poured on even more speed. Given his current velocity and the Bludger's normal weight, an impact with those spikes was almost certain to be fatal. 'Almost?' he thought. 'Who am I kidding! The way my luck works, they're also poisoned!' With that cheerful thought (and unaware that the spikes were in fact poisoned), Harry shot up, hoping that a higher elevation would give him more room to maneuver and put some distance between himself and the deadly projectile closing on his tail. Unbeknownst to him, the chainsaw Bludger that had crashed into the arena's retaining wall had righted its course, dead set against the spikes that were hot on Harry's tail.
Up above, Draco and Jim had been virtually ignoring the events below. Jim was now shouting almost incoherently at the Slytherin, who was playing his favorite role of Obnoxious Pureblood Prat to the hilt, when the Snitch suddenly got bored and darted straight down. 'Finally!' thought Draco.
"IF YOU THINK I CARE WHAT A FILTHY DEATH EATER WANNABEE SCUMBAG LIKE YOU SAYS, YOU CAN GO STRAIGHT...!"
"See ya!" yelled Draco as he dove underneath Jim in a blast of speed. He actually gave the Git a jaunty wave as he flew.
Jim watched him go in confusion for a few precious seconds and then realized the Pureblood was after the Snitch. "Sonovabitch!" the Boy-Who-Lived said through gritted teeth as he reoriented his broom and took off after the other Seeker. By that point, Draco was near the grass and following the Snitch along the edge of the stands. Suddenly, about fifty feet straight ahead, the first Bludger that had gone underneath the stands finally blasted its way back out again, leaving a spray of wooden debris and a ten-foot-wide hole in the retaining wall. To Draco's dismay, the Snitch immediately darted into the opening and took off underneath the bleachers.
"I am going to die now," Draco said to himself with surprising calm. Then, he darted through the opening after the Snitch with Jim Potter hot on his tail.
High above the stadium and increasing desperation to live, Harry performed a cork-screw turn that he hadn't thought was possible on a broom but which allowed him to dodge both Bludgers and head back towards the ground. There was another clang behind him. He spared a look back and saw that the two remaining chainsaw Bludgers had successfully sheared off several of the spiked Bludgers' blades, and this time they didn't grow back. One of the chainsaw Bludgers peeled back to slam directly into one of the spikers, rendering it to pieces of useless debris that fell to the ground. Buzzing loudly in satisfaction, it set its course to help its chainsaw comrade finish off the remaining spiker. Harry smiled for a second until he looked ahead and saw, to his horror, that the majority of both teams were spread out across the field directly in front of him and he was too low to fly safely over them. Every flight path he could see would have him leading the warring Bludgers either through a cluster of Quidditch players or into the spectator stands. Every path but one. Gritting his teeth, he veered sharply to the left and flew through the first hole in the retaining wall that had been blasted open earlier by the chainsaw Bludger. Immediately, he was in an obstacle course, flying over, under and around the various wooden struts supporting the bleachers.
Absurdly, Harry was immediately reminded of the chase scenes in the Star Wars trilogy films he and Sirius watched almost every summer together. Each movie had a scene like this in which the protagonists had to dive into an almost impossible obstacle course as imminent death was hot on their heels. "Help me Obi-Wan! You're my only hope! Ha-Ha!" Fully giving himself over to his reckless Gryffindor-side he flew onward, laughing delightedly as the killer Bludgers smashed through all obstacles as it drew ever closer.
Underneath the bleachers on the opposite side of the arena, Draco was rapidly becoming frustrated. He was quite talented on a broom, especially for a twelve-year-old. But Jim Potter was exceptional, quite literally the cusp of becoming a legend. Despite Malfoy's best efforts to navigate the maze of wooden struts and supports through which they were flying, Jim soon caught up and then passed him. At that point, Draco realized, it would take a miracle to catch the Snitch.
And then, a miracle happened.
Coming from the opposite direction, Harry Potter blew past both Jim and Draco. He wasn't sure, but Draco could have sworn the other boy was laughing in complete delight, in a manner disturbingly similar to Lockhart's awful affected laugh! Right on Harry's tail was what Draco assumed were HELL BLUDGERS that came smashing through the struts and support columns like they were paper. A huge blast of debris hit Jim full on. He cried out and was forced to slow for a few seconds. Draco seized the moment and darted past him, pushing his Nimbus 2001 to its limits. Ahead, the path was clear of obstructions, all of which had been blasted through by the spiked Bludger, yet the space was still confined enough for Draco to block Jim from passing him again.
Harry continued his evasive maneuvers until he could see light up ahead: the other hole leading back out onto the pitch. He tore through it and arced around between the Gryffindor goal posts riding close to the ground. The other players were up ahead still but he had time to maneuver. And he had a plan. He flew straight down the field, gesturing wildly with his hands at the other players to move them out of the way. Not knowing what his plan was but not wanting to die a horrible spiky death or be sawed to pieces, all the other players cleared a path. He continued waving off the Slytherin Keeper Miles Bletchley, who finally moved off to one side once he realized that Potter was aiming straight for the central goal post. Then, at nearly the last possible second, Harry started his ascent.
'Okay Nimbus baby,' he thought. 'Show me what you got!'
Harry was aiming for the bottom rim where the ring met the support column. The spiker (with its remaining points) tore through wood easily, but the central column was five feet in diameter and magically-reinforced stone. Harry aimed for the very lip of the circle with the Bludger just a few feet behind. At the last possible second, Harry threw his upper body forward and extended his arms while lifting his legs back and up. And for the space of a single breath, Harry Potter became Superman.
Harry's broom passed over the edge of the goal with barely an inch to spare. Behind him, there was a satisfying CLANG as the spiked Bludger impacted with the goalpost hard enough to embed its spikes almost six inches into the marble, where it remained stuck.
"Bloody hell," whispered an awestruck Miles Bletchley as he stared in wonder at the trapped Bludger which was shaking in impotent fury as it tried unsuccessfully to pull free. Meanwhile, Harry had instantly grabbed back hold of his broom and remounted. Then, he twisted up and back over the pitch while desperately searching for the remaining chainsaw Bludgers.
"Oh," he thought to himself with a mixture of surprise and sadness. "There they are."
Both were less than a yard away. To his shock, he saw their chainsaws disappear, resuming their smooth surfaces. Harry didn't have enough time to appreciate that strange phenomenon.
CLANG! BANG!
LIGHTS OUT!
The now-smooth Bludgers struck Harry in the front of his head and knocked him off his broom from an altitude of well over 200 feet. From the Visitor's Stand, Lily's terrified "ARRESTO MOMENTUM!" rang out clearly, slowing her son's descent to gently rest on the ground.
Keeping his eye on the Snitch, Draco turned to scream at a horrified Jim. "YOUR BROTHER MAY HAVE JUST BEEN KILLED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, YOU STUPID GIT! DO YOU EVEN CARE?!"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH, DEATH EATER SCUM!"
"YOU SHUT IT!" And with that, he darted after the Snitch, his mind firmly made that Jim Potter would not catch it.
True Quidditch enthusiasts know that there is one Seeker maneuver above all others which is the most reckless, most dangerous and most rarely used: The Suicide Slam. First performed by the winning Seeker in the 1913 Quidditch World Cup, it had been used by truly desperate Seekers only nine times since. Every time it had been used, it resulted in some kind of injury to the Seeker, and in three cases, two fatalities and a coma. Draco, of course, was aware of the Suicide Slam's history, but he'd always believed that it was only ever used by lunatics. Now, in this exact moment of seeming clarity, he came to a different conclusion: it was only used by Seekers for whom the thought of losing had suddenly become intolerable.
With a furious grunt, Draco jumped up and landed on his broom with both feet, riding it like a surfboard. His weight distribution caused the front of the broom to suddenly tip straight down. The instantaneous change of axis while at top speed caused the broom's flight enchantments to go completely haywire. The result was a sudden shockwave of horizontal force that propelled Malfoy forward at tremendous speed, past the gobsmacked Jim Potter. His right hand closed around the Snitch, while he raised his left arm up to guard his face.
'I really hope I don't die from this," he thought. 'Father will absolutely murder me.'
Draco hit the ground with terrific force and then bounced, flipped, skidded, and rolled nearly fifty feet. The first snap was merely surprising. By the third, Draco was becoming slightly alarmed. Luckily, adrenaline and shock combined to make sure he didn't feel any pain... yet. When he finally came to a rest, he thrust his right hand up in the air to show that he'd caught the Snitch. And the crowd, which had been screaming in horror at Harry's injury, now roared its approval. Slytherin had won the game 170-10.
The Slytherin team swarmed around the two players while the ecstatic Slytherin student body poured down onto the pitch in near-delirium. Then, Lily Evans' amplified voice boomed out across the stadium.
"MR. FLINT, SEE THAT NO ONE MOVES OR EVEN TOUCHES EITHER MR. POTTER OR MR. MALFOY UNTIL THEY HAVE RECEIVED MEDICAL REVIEW!"
Moments later, Lily and Lockhart ran up to the two injured boys to perform diagnostic spells. Severus was hot on their heels, busying himself with keeping the Slytherin body.
"Mr. Potter has a severe concussion and a hairline fracture in his skull," said Lily quietly, her eyes a little shiny. "He is otherwise unharmed... no spine damage... which is frankly miraculous." She summoned a levitating stretcher, instructing Marcus to be gentle while he helped load the boy on.
Meanwhile, Lockhart was examining Draco and called out the results for Lily. "Mr. Malfoy has mostly minor cuts and bruises but two complete breaks in his left humerus, one in his left ulna. Also a dislocated kneecap. Hold still, Mr. Malfoy, and I'll have you fixed up in a jiffy."
"Ahem," said a dignified voice from behind him. "I think I should prefer for my son to be examined by a medical professional, if you don't mind."
Lockhart glanced back to see patrician visage of Lucius Malfoy as he glared contemptuously at the Defense Professor. By his side, Narcissa Malfoy was as equally concerned as she was imperious.
"Oh for pity's sake, Lucius," said Lockhart with some annoyance. "It's just basic first aid. I'll be teaching a unit on it for all seven years next January." With that, he touched his wand to Draco's arm. "BRACKIUM EMENDO!" A warm orange light flowed out of his wand to envelop Draco's injured arm. The boy gasped at the sudden sharp pain of his arm bones shifting, but he was then surprised to feel the pain disappear almost completely. After a few seconds, the light faded and Draco's arm appeared good as new. "It should be fine, Mr. Malfoy, but please do have Madame Pomfrey double-check my work. Sometimes hairline fractures remain that the basic Charm won't catch. You probably will also have some strained muscles for which she can provide pain relief." He touched Draco's knee. "CARTILAGIUM EMENDO!" A cool blue light flowed out of his wand and enveloped Draco's knee, seemingly repairing it as well as his arm. Lily's brow quirked, before leveling a critical eye at the Defense Professor. Both Harry and Hermione had expressed their concerns that Lockhart was only pretending to be a poncy and flashy git, a mask to hide a very talented and highly capable wizard. She was highly inclined to agree.
"You have me at a disadvantage, Professor Lockhart," said Lucius Malfoy coolly. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced. Certainly not to the point of being on a first name basis."
Lockhart stood and bowed respectfully. "I do apologize for my impertinence, Lord Malfoy. Please forgive me. My thoughts were solely on your son, both his injuries and his remarkable performance. I'm sure you're both very proud."
Lucius looked down at Draco who had just risen to his feet, and the boy saw something in his father's eyes that he'd been seeing more and more since his Heirship training: pride and satisfaction. "Quite so," he said softly. "Draco, I knew you had natural skill at this game. But what I witnessed today was so much more than I was expecting and in so many ways." He stepped closer to his son and placed a warm and reassuring hand on his shoulder. "My only heir, in whom I am well-pleased." Draco beamed as his chest warmed in happiness at his father's - his Lord's - words, placing his hand over his Lucius'. He didn't notice his mother's scowl of disapproval.
"Thank you, Father. And thank you both for coming. I would like to spend time talking with you but..." He turned and focused all of his attention on Narcissa. "Harry Potter, my friend, is injured. With your kind permission, I would like to check on him. To make sure that he is unharmed and safe."
Narcissa smiled in a manner that approximated warmth. "Of course, Dragon. Go and check on your little friend."
He bowed respectfully to both parents and then made his way through the crowd to find Harry. As he left, Narcissa stared after him intently, while Lucius stared with equal intensity at her. Stepping in front of her, he leaned down to whisper menacingly:
"It goes without saying, my love, that if you had anything to do with our son's condition... I will slit your pretty little throat while you sleep and bathe the walls in your…tainted blood." He sneered the last bit, a not-so-subtle dig at her stolen Veela allure.
She snarled viciously before schooling her expression into a perfect pureblood mask of propriety. "You are certainly welcome to try, dearest." Lucius just hissed in promised retaliation.
As for Harry Potter, he was lying on the ground strapped into a stretcher as his mother shamelessly fussed over him. It seemed like the whole Slytherin House was grouped around Harry, with Flint and Ginny Weasley keeping most of the crowd away from him whilst Snape threatened anyone who crossed over the threshold with detentions until the holidays. As Draco drew near, he bumped into Ginny, and immediately felt an impulse to say something scathingly Malfoyesque. It seemed Ginny felt the same as she looked up at him, eyes flashing dangerously. With a sniff, she turned and flounced off to stand beside Professor Snape.
Harry moaned softly. "Hey ... Drake ... win?"
Draco knelt down. "Yes, Harry. We won. I caught the Snitch."
"Course ya did... Drake. Never doubted." And somehow, as absurd as it sounded, Draco thought that was true.
Then, Harry's brow furrowed. "My mum?"
"I'm here darling, what is it?" She leaned her head towards him while he whispered something in her ear, before he finally passed out. Lily's jaw ticked, as she was very well aware of the cause of her son's third near-death experience. With her cuff she let Sev know, and he endeavored to have one of the Hogwarts elves sniff the field when it could be done discreetly.
Soon, most of the Slytherin students headed back to the school, their joy over winning tempered by concern over their injured Chaser. Most of the Gryffindor team members headed to the showers, dejected over their loss but also troubled at how close the game came to a horrific tragedy. The spectators – students and otherwise – made their way out of the arena for whatever destinations awaited them.
From his vantage, Jim stared wordlessly at his passed out brother and their mother who refused to leave his side. Feelings of sympathy for Harry's near death warred with his jealousy at his mother's affection (which she'd never shown him), both of which warred with his rage at his brother stealing his prized Cloak from him, having the gall to pretend that he hadn't. With a grunt, he grabbed his broom and began his trek back to the dorms, wanting to shower alone with his turbulent thoughts.
A Few Minutes Later…
The Gryffindor team stood aghast at the sight before them in their locker room. All of their non-Quidditch clothing they'd brought to change into after the game had been unceremoniously dumped into the middle of locker room area, doused with water, and then apparently frozen into a block of ice with a Freezing Charm and kept frozen with a Statis Charm. As pranks went, it was pretty feeble, though plenty annoying for exhausted and dejected players in sweaty and smelly Quidditch gear. And certainly not the sort of thing the Twins would let go without retaliation if they found exactly who did it.
With a groan, Alicia, Katie, and Katie dumped their brooms and made their way over to the girls showers, intent on dealing with the disaster after they had a well-deserved bath. Oliver did the same, muttering to himself as he made his way over to the boys shower stalls. The real drama started when George opened his locker and found that it was empty save for a folded piece of paper.
Dear Weasley Terror,
I don't know which of you this knapsack belonged to (you're both as equally stupid and ugly as the other) but at least one of you blood traitors will have a difficult time in class without your books and notes. Such a pity you're too wretchedly poor to buy replacement copies for what you've so freely given me. Mess with the snakes, and you get bit.
Sealed with a Hiss,
A Slimy Slytherin
P.S. Slytherins Rule. Gryffindors Drool.
P.P.S Poof!
With that, there was a flash of green flame and the paper disintegrated. George slowly sat down on a bench, completely stunned.
"It's okay, Brother Mine," said Fred. "You can use my textbooks for your homework. I mean, we sit next to each other so it's not the end of the world."
George looked up at his twin, his eyes misting with emotion. "Fred, I had the Map folded up in my Charms book."
"... What?" Fred said. "I mean... you ... you WHAT?! How could you be so...?"
George's face hardened. "How could I be so what, Fred? You were there when we talked about sneaking Ron off to Honeydukes after the Quidditch match. To make up for…you know…everything we've put him through. I hid it in my bag so it would be handy and we wouldn't have to go back for it after the game."
Fred sighed in frustration. "Let's look around outside, George. Maybe they just threw it up on the roof or something."
"Fred," said George dejectedly. "The Slytherins hate us. I'm not talking about the Snake-Lion rivalry. I mean they hate you and me. I reckon the bookbag and the Map are either at the bottom of Black Lake or else they're burning up in the Slytherin fireplace. Not to mention they got all my notes for Lockhart's research group. And the really hilarious thing is that they were probably just being petty by stealing my books and my notes. Whoever took the Map probably has no idea what he has and won't even after he's destroyed it."
George put his head down into his hands and then jumped a few seconds later when Fred struck the door to his locker so hard he put a dent into it. "OWW!" he hissed in pain as he shook his hand out.
"Oi!" said Oliver Wood as he stepped out of the shower, startled by Fred's rather loud trashing of his locker. "What's all this then?"
Fred said nothing. Finally, George spoke. "Whichever Slytherin messed with our clothes also took ... something that belongs to us."
"Was it valuable?" Wood asked. Both boys nodded. "Well, go and tell McGonagall about it. I'm sure she'll turn some rocks over and get it returned to you." Then, he went back to his stall to brood some more.
Fred actually laughed harshly at the thought of telling their Head of House about the Map and asking for her to get it back to them. "Oh yeah, that's going to happen. 'Here's yuir map, wee bairn. Now go back to makin' yuir mischief!" he said in a poor attempt at a Scottish accent. For the first time, George didn't laugh.
The Infirmary, 11:28PM
Soft snoring was all that could be heard as Harry Potter - in a healing coma - slept peacefully. A few beds over, Draco Malfoy slept just as peacefully, his bone being regrown by Skele-Gro.
Situated on the ceiling and shielded by the All-Hiding Eye of his still strong Umgubular Slashkilter, Dobby the house elf kept vigil over the two wizards. Potter's mother had been the last to leave, but not before hissing at a carving of snakes of Asclepius' staff mounted above her son's bed, no doubt asking them to keep watch over her son. Master Lucius had long suspected that Lily Evans - a descendant of Salazar Slytherin - was a speaker of the sacred tongue of the Paarz'heal. Dobby was pleased that his Master would have his suspicions confirmed.
Suddenly, there was a small ripple in the realm-space, before Mowgli appeared. Dobby's hackles immediately raised, glaring at the abhorrent bastard as he leered hatefully at the Potter boy. He'd undertaken his boldest murder attempt yet, charming replicated Bludgers with envenomed spikes meant to kill Potter in a brutal and painful manner. Thankfully, Dobby had interfered with his magic, ensorcelling the other Bludger to replicate with chainsaws meant to slice through the spikers. Regrettably two of his surviving Bludgers had knocked Harry Potter out and brought him to the Infirmary, but thankfully he'd been able to cancel the chainsaw magic he'd placed upon them before they'd struck.
Mowgli continued to stare hatefully at the young Potter, viciously muttering under his breath "to finish him once and for all" and "bring forth his Mistress' will". With a snap, Dobby erected powerful Silencer shields around the two boys' beds, making sure to place an extra untraceable ward of the Infirmary's entrance and that of Madam Pomfrey's private quarters. Mowgli turned at the magic, his eyes narrowing dangerously when Dobby dropped his invisibility.
"You traitorous filth," Mowgli hissed, lilac eyes becoming dangerously enraged. In a flash his right hand made a squeezing motion, pleased as Dobby (eyes wide in affected fright) started to choke in earnest. "You prevented me from bringing forth my Mistress' will." He squeezed tighter, pleased when Dobby started to claw at his own neck. "So now…you'll die." He leered evilly. "Then, I'll finish the little brat off. And for fun, I'll make the Boy-Who-Lived watch before I finish him off too!" Dobby's eyes - now blazing in righteous anger - narrowed at that heinous threat. He wiggled his left hand and Mowgli's magic was nullified, shocking the creature at the not-so-sniveling-and-pathetic-elf's capability. Before he could further ruminate on the implications, Dobby struck.
With an outstretched hand he made a 'come-hither' gesture at Mowgli, causing the latter's eyes to go wide as he was reeled into Dobby's arms. Lucius' elf grabbed Mowgli's scruff and squeezed, as his magic rendered him completely immobile. Narcissa's elf started to shake as he felt the tethers of Un-Time wrap around them, licking at their flesh almost intimately and pulling their Lar forms from their elven husks. They started to fall... first from Terra Firma… tumbling through the lower astralverse…the negative zone…the fringes of the Dark Wild…the bowels of the Wild Unknown…then the Underworld…then the nothingness of Oblivion, where they were beyond the reach of all.
Lar Dobby glared at Lar Mowgli, in his full breadth as the eight-centuries reigning Champion of the Interdimensional Servitude & Skullduggery Games. Wings of might buffeted the terrible cold away, keeping Lar Mowgli - in his more diminished form as he wasn't in control at this point - from being rendered into less than etherdust, to a place where points didn't even matter. Lar Dobby clasped a mighty hand around his enemy's throat as his voice - only a warning this time - hissed at the edges of Mowgli's mind.
"Fate's Champion is not to be touched. The Boy-Who-Lived is not to be touched. You will harm neither." Mowgli snarled and clawed at the unyielding hand against his throat. Getting annoyed Dobby shook him, the promise of violence looming near. Mowgli froze.
"Heed me Lar Mowgli! Should you harm either wizard, I will act as Fate's Hand, and by her Blessing will I be your ultimate undoing." Mowgli's eyes widened, before tightly nodding once.
Dobby smiled with all three rows of gleaming teeth, before sending them hurtling back to Terra Firma, Lar forms molded back into elven shells. With lightly terrified eyes, Mowgli hissed at his enemy before disappearing with a soft pop.
With a smirk, Dobby resumed his vigil.
AN 1: And third time's the charm! That's enough murder attempts...from Mowgli anyway LOL. The pending Dobby vs. Mowgli face-off should be fun.
AN 2: I LOVE the Bludger scene in PoS, wanted to spice it up to increase the stakes. The visual alone in AD is kinda ridiculous but I feel like it works? Let me know it does or doesn't ;)