~*~
The Book of Carmen
Chapter IV: The Mighty Bludger
~*~



"That was weird," Ron said as he, Harry, and Hermione left the DADA classroom.

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Well I don't like him," Hermione stated.

"Why not? Because he couldn't remember your name?" Ron asked. Harry started to laugh, but stopped when he saw the look on Hermione's face. Apparently Hermione had taken the fact that Professor McGinn had to ask her name each time she answered a question as a personal insult.

"It's not that," Hermione said, "He's just so ill-prepared. Do you realize how many times he trailed off into a story that was not even remotely related to the material we covered?"

"Well at least his stories were interesting, which is more than I can say for Professor Ross." Harry said.

"That might be true, but it is no excuse for not being prepared for class."

"It's the name thing that's really bothering you, isn't it?" Ron asked.

"No." Hermione stated simply, but Ron and Harry exchanged knowing looks at each other.

"I'll see you two at dinner. I'm going to check in with Madam Pomfrey." Hermione said.

"Again? I thought that maybe you could help me with my essay for Snape." Ron said.

"Maybe later Ron. Madam Pomfrey is going to show me how to treat a Barvest bite," Hermione said and then hurried away. "I'll catch up with two you later!" she called as she rushed through the hallway.

Harry looked over at Ron who looked disheartened. "Hey Ron," Harry said, "I was just about to go the Quidditch field to practice, if you would like to join me I could always use the competition."

Ron's expression immediately lifted, "Really?"

Harry nodded.

"Could I use your Firebolt?"

"Sure."

"Alright then, let's go," Ron said and pulled Harry in the direction of the Quidditch fields.

~*~

Harry swooped in and out of the Quidditch goals a few times as he tried to adjust to the broom he was riding. Ron was doing the same on the opposite side of the field, however because of Harry's Firebolt, Ron was moving much quicker. Harry really wanted to be on his own broom, he felt as if he was almost betraying it by riding another, more inferior, broom. Nonetheless Harry knew that Quidditch is what Ron needed to keep his mind of Hermione and the fact that she had been ignoring him lately. Ron had spoken little about it, but Harry knew that it was really bothering his friend. On several occasions he had thought to bring it up to Hermione, but he was also having a difficult time catching up with her.

"Hey Harry! Watch this!" Ron screamed from across the field, and proceeded to do a quick set of figure eights through the large hoops. Harry gave him a thumbs up, and then flew over to meet his friend.

"Harry this broom is great! It's like I don't even have to steer it, as if it has a mind of its own." Ron said, giving the broom a loving pat.

Harry nodded, eyeing his beloved broom with the protective eye of a father for his child.

Ron glanced at Harry's rather feeble standard broom and then looked at Harry mischievously, "I'll race you." he said.

Harry shook his head, "No. You'd be half way to Hogsmeade before I left the Quidditch field. Besides I'm supposed to be practicing." Harry said nodding to the rest of the Gryffindor team, which had just arrived on the field.

"Oh. I guess I should be heading back then."

"Wait here a minute." Harry said and then flew down to the rest of his team. Ron waited mid-air with his feet dangling off either side of the broom until Harry finally left the ground and headed towards him.

"Ron, one of our beaters has detention with Snape, so if you would like to stand in you would be doing us all a favor," Harry said.

"Really? That would be great!" Ron exclaimed.

"There's only one catch."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to need my broom back."

~*~

For the next hour or so the Gryffindor team plus one Ron Weasley flew this way and that working on tactical maneuvers and secret plays. Ron was having a great time and, Harry noted, holding his own out on the field. However, Harry really didn't have a whole lot of time to watch Ron, as he was quite busy himself. The sun had begun to set, casting the eerie glow of twilight over the field which seemed to faintly blur the edges of Harry's surroundings, which made snitch hunting a very difficult thing indeed. He dodged bludgers sent by his own team members in an effort to keep his reflexes sharp. Suddenly he saw the golden snitch and raced off after it, easily out distancing the bludgers. The snitch flew up and down quickly and then darted side to side, but Harry had spotted it and was right behind the glittering ball. He almost had it in his hand when it suddenly shot straight up into the sky. Harry quickly flipped his broom, hitting the snitch and forcing it back down and then grabbed it before it could get away again. Cheers echoed from the other side of the field and Harry rejoined his teammates.

"That was pretty impressive," Ron said, "Of course anyone on a Firebolt could do that." Ron added jokingly.

Harry smiled, "You try it."

"That's okay, I wouldn't want to put the great Harry Potter to shame in front of his own teammates."

The rest of the Gryffindor team laughed along with Harry.

"Ready to go again Harry?" A teammate asked.

Harry nodded, took the snitch in one hand and threw it as far and as hard as he could. The little golden orb disappeared quickly.

"Make it quick," a chaser said to Harry, "We are going to be in the dark before too long."

Harry nodded and took his position high above the rest of the players and started to look for the snitch. He had only been up there for a few minutes when he began to feel a rather odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. At first Harry thought that his little loop earlier was the cause, but then there was another sensation. Whatever it was it hit Harry hard. He felt, no, he knew that someone, or something, was watching him. He looked around and saw that Ron and the others were engaged in their own practice and were paying him little attention. Harry looked anxiously into the stands, but they were empty. He turned his broom and drifted slightly and as he did the feeling increased tenfold. The snitch forgotten, Harry tried to figure out what in the world was happening to his senses. Harry felt the need to fly off, away from what had developed such a powerful hold on him. Suddenly he heard a voice, soft but razor edged, and it cut through the air and into Harry's ears, "Comon to us, min suna ond dehter, comon to eower wryd."

Ron was getting ready to hit a bludger that was coming towards him. He glanced up briefly and noticed that Harry was gazing off into the distance. What is he doing? Ron asked himself. Is he falling asleep up there? Perhaps he just needs something to keep him on his toes. Ron said as the bludger came into arm's reach. He reared back and smacked the ball at Harry's general direction. Ron watched in satisfaction as the bludger headed right where he had wanted it, right at Harry. His smiled began to fade when he noticed that Harry was not paying any attention to it. Move Harry! Get out the way! Ron whispered anxiously. The bludger was getting dangerously close, and yet Harry had still not made any effort to get out of the way. "Harry!" Ron screamed at his friend, "the bludger Harry! Get out of the way!"

Harry was completely absorbed with the voice, and he scanned the field and the edges of the forests to try to pinpoint its origin. Ron's screams brought Harry's focus back into the game, but a little too late. He swerved quickly to the right to avoid getting hit in the head, the full force of the bludger hitting his right shoulder instead. He heard something pop in his shoulder as the force of the bludger knocked him off of his broom. As he felt himself begin to fall Harry quickly grabbed the handle of his broom with his left hand, which left him dangling sixty feet above the ground. The sudden jarring of the brief fall sent white sparks of pain through Harry's shoulder, and he blinked back the involuntary tears that the sudden pain had caused. He was aware that the Ron was rushing towards him, although it seemed to Harry that it was taking forever for his friend to come to his aid. His right arm was completely useless, and it hung limply to his side. His left was gripping the handle of his broom so tightly that his knuckles were white. Harry found his left arm weakening, having to hold the whole of his weight.

Ron finally arrived and pulled his broom alongside Harry. "Are you okay?" Ron asked concerned.

Harry looked at Ron, "Been better."

Ron nodded and then slid up the handle of his broom, "Get on."

Harry shook his head, "I can't. I can only use my left arm. I'd probably fall if I tried to get on that broom."

A look of guilt swept over Ron's features, "I need some help over here!" Ron called to the other Gryffindors.

Ron looked over at a burly sixth year chaser and said to him, "Grab a hold of his waist."

The chaser did as he was told, moving to Harry's right and wrapping two rather large arms around his waist. Harry moved his hurt arm carefully out of the way while

Ron called to the others, "Get underneath us in case something he falls."

Finally Ron positioned himself to Harry's left and used both arms to support Harry's upper torso. "Let go," Ron told him.

Harry looked up at Ron and shook his head viciously.

"Listen Harry, I've got your top half and he's got your bottom half, you have to let go. Trust me."

Harry nodded and slowly released his grip on his broom. The two rescuers sank in the air as Harry's weight was added to their brooms. Harry sank easily into the two, his left arm tingling painfully at the sudden blood flow. Carefully the two lowered Harry into the ground, a process that took the better part of ten minutes. Finally Harry's feet were on the ground once more. His shoulder stuck out at an odd angle, an obvious sign of dislocation.

"We should get you to the hospital wing," Ron said biting back his guilt.

Harry nodded. The two left the field with a very concerned Gryffindor team following closely behind.

"I guess you'll get to see Hermione after all." Harry said, managing a slight smile.

~*~

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked as Ron and Harry entered the hospital wing, the former supporting the latter.

"Quidditch accident." Harry said as Ron led him over to a bed.

"I can't believe this," Harry said as he tried to adjust his arm to a less painful position, "I survive four encounters with Voldemort and what almost takes me out? A bludger. Now there's irony."

Ron didn't respond, having suddenly become fascinated with the pictures on the wall.

"Oh my dear. What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Madam Pomfrey asked, coming over to Harry's bed.

"I think he's dislocated his shoulder," Hermione said from behind her.

"Thanks for the diagnosis Herm," Harry said and then winced as Madam Pomfrey pulled back his shirt.

"She's right," Madam Pomfrey said, frowning slightly, "I'm going to have to put it back into place."

Harry nodded turning white.

Madam Pomfrey noticed the color change of Harry's cheeks, "Don't worry dear," she said, "It will fell a lot better once its back in its proper place. Now hold still." Harry did as he was told and Madam Pomfrey gave him a draught that made Harry feel very numb. She then went over to Harry's injured side and, with a strength that surprised Harry, she supported him from behind while pushing the dislodged shoulder backwards.

Ron looked on as Madam Pomfrey pushed Harry's shoulder back into place. Ron could hear the joint slide back in and he turned his eyes from Harry, unable to look him in the eyes.

Harry's face contorted as Madam Pomfrey maneuvered his shoulder and a faint cry escaped his lips as the bone was returned to its rightful place. When she was done Harry felt himself slump back into the soft bed.

"Now what you need is rest and some ice," Madam Pomfrey said. "Hermione would you be a dear and bring me some of the non-melting ice?" Hermione nodded and scrambled off to find the ice. When she returned Madam Pomfrey packed Harry's shoulder and ordered that he be left alone for the rest of the night.

Hermione left with Ron and soon Harry was alone in the hospital ward with nothing left to do but mingle with his own thoughts. Harry cursed himself for the thousandth time for being so careless that he allowed a bludger to hit him, and soon his thoughts drifted back to the cause of his distraction; the unmistakable feeling of being watched, and that voice…that familiar voice. Although he didn't understand anything that the voice had said, the mere memory of its cutting words made Harry shiver, despite the warm blankets that were draped across him. Harry suddenly became aware of the effects of the draught, which were lulling him to sleep. Before he drifted off, Harry had a brief moment of recognition. He had heard that voice before, somewhere. Harry struggled to stay awake, trying to remember where he had heard that voice. However, the draught became the victor and Harry was in a deep dreamless sleep before he remembered where he had heard that voice before, in the Death Eater's keep.

~*~

Poor Harry, he was knocked off his broom by his best friend. Poor Ron, he dislocated his best friend's shoulder. Rough game, that Quidditch.

Thanks for all the lovely reviews, keep 'em coming…

Yes I used the strange language again. Will I translate? No. Not now. Harry doesn't know what was said, so why should you? ;)
Don't worry, all will be explained.

Any more guesses on the language? No, it's not Russian. I'll give you a hint…think Tolkien.

One more thing: One of these days I plan to put up a webpage that has illustrations for my stories. Check out my Bio if you want to see the title image for The Book of Carmen.