A/N: Yay, action.  It's about time.

~~ Chapter Nine: It's Just a Game… ~~

            After Potions the next day, Harry Potter hurried to catch up with Draco Malfoy and wish him luck before Slytherin's big Quidditch game with Hufflepuff.  A reluctant Ron Weasley was close behind.  "Draco!" Harry called.  "Wait up!"

            Draco stopped walking.  His face lit up when he saw Harry.  "Hi!" he said.  "I can't talk long.  Flint will kill me if I'm late."

            "Don't worry," Harry said.  "We won't talk your ear off.  We just wanted to wish you luck."

            "'We'?" Draco repeated, glancing at Ron.

            "You heard him, Malfoy," Ron said.  "Good luck."

            A smile crossed Draco's face.  "Thanks, Weas– Ron."

            Harry snapped his fingers as he remembered something.  "Oh, and Oliver told me to tell you that he doesn't know about any trumpets, but he may have located a French horn.  I didn't understand, but he said you would."

            "French horn," Draco said thoughtfully.  "Okay.  Thanks, guys."

            "You're welcome," said Harry.  "And good luck."

            The Quidditch game was scheduled to begin in five minutes.  Ron and Harry made their way over to the Gryffindor area as fast as they could.  "I hope Hermione remembered to save us spots," Harry commented as they climbed the stairs.

            "Me, too," Ron agreed.  "Um, Harry?  Does cheering for Draco fall within the limits of our bargain?"

            Harry grinned.  "No, Ron, you don't have to cheer for Draco.  But I will, and I have a feeling someone else will, too."

            "Who?"

            "Oliver Wood."

            "Wood?" Ron choked.  "Now Wood's on Malfoy's side, too?"  He sighed and rubbed his forehead.  "This day just keeps better and better."

            They reached their destination.  Hermione Granger was standing by the railing next to Oliver Wood.  The two of them were deep in discussion about something.  "Oh, hi Ron, Harry," Hermione said when she saw the two of them.  Then she went back to her conversation with Oliver.  "But anyway, yes, there's a cello in my attic at home.  My father used to play.  I tried it when I was little, but it was as big as I was, so I didn't get very far."

            "Excellent!" Oliver said.  "So if you learned how to play cello, we'd have half of the string quartet.  I'm almost sure I could get Malfoy on violin; he just needs a little more coaxing.  Now, for a viola."  He glanced at Ron.  "Hey, Ron, you don't happen to play viola by any chance, do you?"

            Ron blinked and scratched his head.  "What's a viola?"

            "It's a stringed instrument, like the violin, only a little bit larger."

            "I don't think so," Ron answered.  "Fred used to play trombone, though.  We might have his old trombone at home somewhere."

            "Maybe I'd have better luck trying to form a brass quintet," Oliver commented.

            "Hey, maybe," Harry said.  "Look!  Here come the teams!  Come on, Slytherin!"

            "I never thought I'd hear him say that," Hermione whispered to Ron.

            "Yeah!" shouted Oliver.  "Let's go, Slytherin!"

            "I never thought I'd hear him say that," Ron whispered back.

            Hermione shook her head.  "What is the world coming to?"  She then pointed her finger at Ron and said, "Don't answer that."

            "Glad you could join the fun, Malfoy," Albus Dumbledore said when he saw Lucius Malfoy come into the instructor's box.  "This should be quite an exciting match."

            There was an open seat to the headmaster's left.  To Dumbledore's right sat Minerva McGonagall.  "May I sit here?" Lucius asked.

            "Of course," Dumbledore replied, sliding a few inches closer to McGonagall to give Lucius a bit more room.  "Have a seat.  Don't know what good it'll do you, though.  You'll probably be on your feet cheering most of the time."

            Lucius managed a small grin.  "Let's hope so.  Go, Slytherin."  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of what he guessed was Alina Terringer.  He turned his head slightly to get a better look, and it was indeed the Musical Enchantment professor.  She appeared to be deep in conversation with Severus Snape, of all people.  That puzzled him, but this was not the time or the place to contemplate what was going on.

            "Something wrong, Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, noticing Lucius's movement.

            "No, everything's fine," Lucius replied, a little too quickly.

            McGonagall raised an eyebrow suspiciously.  Dumbledore saw the wary look on her face.  They were sitting close enough that no one could see him reach for her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.  "Trust me," he whispered.

            Her head gave a slight nod.  "I'm trying."

            The Quidditch players were in place.  Madam Hooch, the referee, was preparing to release the balls.  Draco Malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his nerves.  A lot depended on this game.  If Slytherin won, it would put them in second place, behind Gryffindor.  They had to win.  They just had to.

            Madam Hooch blew her whistle.  The game had begun and the balls were in the air.  Slytherin's captain, Marcus Flint, reached for the Quaffle, but a Hufflepuff chaser just barely beat him to it.  The Hufflepuff flew as fast as he could toward the goal, but Flint was close behind him.  Then, out of the corner of his eye, Flint saw a Bludger coming toward him, fast.  Where are those beaters? he thought to himself.  He dropped his altitude a few feet, and the Bludger hit the Hufflepuff in the hands, causing him to drop the Quaffle.  Flint was ready.  He grabbed the Quaffle and made a large arc with his broom, changing directions toward the Slytherin goal.

            Flint tossed the Quaffle to Warrington, who was in position to score.  However, the nearly unstoppable Cedric Diggory, the captain and keeper of the Hufflepuff team, was also in position – position to prevent Slytherin from scoring.  Thinking fast, Flint flew over to the opposite side of the goal and waved his arm.  "Warrington!  Here!" he shouted.

            Warrington tossed Flint the Quaffle.  As soon as it was in his hands, Slytherin's captain threw it at the center hoop.  Score!

            "Ten points for Slytherin!" shouted Lee Jordan, the commentator.  The crowd erupted into cheers.  "Diggory takes the ball for Hufflepuff.  He passes it downfield to…"

            Draco's eyes scanned the vicinity for the Golden Snitch.  The tiny gold ball was painstakingly difficult to catch, let alone find, but he had succeeded in the game against Ravenclaw.  Although the main reason he was Slytherin's seeker was because his father bought the entire team new broomsticks last year, Draco was good at what he did and probably could have got the position of seeker on his own.

            Draco spotted something moving nearby.  There it was!  It remained in place long enough for him to see it, then took off again.  "Oh, no you don't," Draco said, and flew after the Snitch.

            Hufflepuff's seeker saw his movement, and fell into place right behind him.  The two wove in and out of the other players as they pursued the Snitch.  All of a sudden, a chime was heard, and Lee Jordan's voice announced, "Michael Corner for Hufflepuff!  Tie game!"

            They were tied.  It was still early in the game, but that was beside the point.  If they were tied now, odds were they would keep going back and forth like this until the very end.  Draco wanted a decisive win for Slytherin, not a narrow victory or even worse, a narrow defeat.  He just had to catch the Snitch.

            The Quaffle was in the possession of Slytherin again.  It was passed to Montague, who made his way down the field with Flint on one side and a Hufflepuff on the other.  Something else was trying to join the trio, specifically Flint – a Bludger.  At the last second, one of Slytherin's beaters appeared and wacked the Bludger away.  Montague passed the Quaffle to Flint, who made a break for the goal.  He threw the Quaffle, but the attempt was stopped by Diggory.

            "Diggory's a machine," commented an admiring Oliver Wood.  "Slytherin's got their work cut out for them trying to get past him."

            "Look, there goes Malfoy, after the Snitch," Ron said, pointing above their heads.  Draco had just flown over them in his pursuit of the tiny golden ball.

            "That'll probably be their only chance," said Oliver.  "I know that's the only way we beat them.  How's your shoulder, by the way, Harry?"

            Harry smiled.  Last week, the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game ended in a victory for Gryffindor because he managed to catch the Snitch, but he sustained a dislocated shoulder by flying into the wall in the process.  "It's fine, thank you," Harry told him.

            "Maybe they'll figure a way to outwit Cedric and get some points," Hermione said.

            "Ernie McMillan scores!" came Lee Jordan's voice.  "Twenty ten, Hufflepuff!"

            "They'd better figure out a way fast," Oliver said.  "Pucey's a decent keeper, but he's not as fast as Diggory.  Maybe if they could get their beaters to move more…  I'll talk to Malfoy.  Flint will probably listen to him before he'll listen to me."

            Hermione sighed and shook her head.  "Quidditch players," she said.  "Well, at least he's not talking about violins anymore."

            Oliver smiled at her.  Hermione blushed and looked away.

            "Come on, Malfoy," Harry said, gripping the rail tightly.  "You can do it."

            Hufflepuff had the Quaffle.  Ernie McMillan and Michael Corner were flying parallel to each other, tossing the Quaffle back and forth as Flint wove between them, trying for an interception.  A Slytherin possession didn't come until Michael threw the ball at the goal – Pucey managed to block it, and Warrington got the Quaffle when it fell.

            Warrington passed the Quaffle to Flint, who looked for an opening downfield.  When he saw none, he decided to advance the Quaffle by flying.  Warrington fell in alongside him as a guard.  Flint didn't need a Chaser guard, though – he needed a beater.  There was a Bludger headed right for them.

            As if on cue, Derrick, one of Slytherin's beaters, came from underneath and wacked the Bludger almost straight up.  He then joined the escort to ward off any other Bludgers as the Quaffle was advanced toward the Slytherin goal.  Cedric Diggory was ready for them.  Flint pretended to throw the Quaffle to the goal, but in actuality, it was passed to Montague, who was waiting on the other side of Hufflepuff's keeper.

            Diggory wasn't about to fall for that trick again.  Montague threw the Quaffle at the goal, and Diggory blocked it – rebounding it right into the hands of Marcus Flint.  Flint threw the Quaffle toward the right ring, and Diggory wasn't fast enough to block it.  The score was tied, twenty to twenty.

            While Flint, Derrick, Montague, and Diggory executed their performance at the goals, Draco pursued the Snitch high into the air.  His broom was at an almost vertical angle as he closed in on the tiny ball.  It was just beyond his reach.  Perhaps if he stretched a little bit farther…

            Suddenly, something hit Draco's broomstick.  It was the Bludger Derrick had hit to keep it from colliding with Flint.  Since he was reaching for the Snitch, Draco's balance was off, and the high-velocity Bludger hitting his broomstick destroyed all his stability.  He lost his grip on the broomstick and began to fall.

            Harry's heart nearly stopped beating.  "Oh, no," he gasped as he watched his friend plunge toward the earth.  "No…"

            Shock and fear seized Minerva McGonagall's heart as the young Malfoy fell from his broomstick.  She tightened her grip on Albus Dumbledore's hand and slowly rose to her feet.  Beside her, Dumbledore did the same.  Two other people in the instructor's box were standing before them – Alina Terringer and Lucius Malfoy.

            "Oh, no," McGonagall gasped.  "No…"

            Marcus Flint was the first one to come out of the shock-induced trance when Draco was knocked off his broomstick, and the Slytherin captain flew as fast as he could toward his falling teammate.  However, Flint wasn't fast enough.  Draco hit the ground, and all was silent and still.

            "Oh, my God," Hermione said.  "Is Malfoy dead?"

            McGonagall's breathing and heart rate accelerated.  "He's not moving," she said.

            "We have to get down there," Dumbledore said.  He glanced to his left.  "Lucius-"

            But Lucius was already gone.

            "Back up!" Marcus Flint shouted to the horde that was crowding around Draco.  "Give him some room to breathe!"

            Lucius Malfoy broke through the circle surrounding his son and dropped to his knees next to the unconscious boy.  "Draco," he said, putting his hand on his son's shoulder.  "Draco, can you hear me?"

            Harry Potter was the next person to work his way into the opening.  Close behind him were Oliver Wood and Alina Terringer.  "Is he dead?" Harry asked.

            Lucius reached for his son's wrist.  "No.  There's a pulse, but it's faint.  I can barely feel it."

            Alina placed her hand on Draco's bloody cheek and began to sing a soft melody.  "Ah na la de da, ah la na day dee…"

            Draco spasmed and coughed up blood.

            Lucius looked at Alina with flaming eyes.  "What are you doing?" he demanded.

            "I'm trying to save him, if you don't mind," Alina sang, then went back to random wording.

            Lucius bit the inside of his cheek.  "I'm sorry."

            "Out of the way, everyone!" shouted Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, as she burst into the circle.  "We've got to get this boy to medical at once!  We've not a minute to lose!"  The broomstick-mounted first aid team was close behind her.  Draco was carefully loaded onto a stretcher, and he was carried back to the castle as fast as they dared.

A/N: You're most likely getting sick of my commentary, but I think this is necessary.  I probably should have done this earlier, but I never said what year it was.  In this chapter, we learned it was Harry and Co.'s third year because Draco does some quick reflection on how he became Seeker, but that doesn't quite make sense because if I did my math right, Marcus Flint should be gone…  *much banging of head against the wall and cries of "Bad Dobby!"*  So just relax and try not to incorporate logic, okay?

And another thing… I plan to write a revamped version of this story, sans the Mary Sue.  The new one will have the same basic plot as this, but it will be much, much darker and I will attempt to preserve the evil nature of the Malfoys.  I've been told that the story has potential, so I'll try that and see how it works.  Keep your eyes open.