My Team Mate Is Trying to Kill Me!
Chapter 1
It was a brilliant day for Quidditch. The sun was shining and there wasn't a grey cloud. The stand was full to bursting with people and it was England's new seeker's, Harry Potter, first game as an international player.
He sat in the changing room pulling on his white Quidditch robes. It was a lot different to the scarlet Gryffindor ones he had worn in previous years.
England's captain and keeper strode in. "Hey Harry! Nervous?"
Harry couldn't help but smile. With someone like Oliver Wood as his captain and keeper it was almost as good as being back at Hogwarts.
Oliver sat down beside his teammate from past years and now once again. " It's a shame that Ron wasn't picked for the team," he said slowly. "I heard he took my place when I left and he wasn't bad either." Harry nodded. It was a Weasley free team. Fred and George were too busy with the joke shop to play beaters.
"They're here." Harry looked at Oliver uncertainly. " Hermione too." Harry was now looking at Oliver as if he was crazy. " Well.Bill, Charlie, Percy and Mr Weasley had to go to work but the others are here." Harry peered out of the window in the dressing room to the pitch. Scanning around the stands, he soon found the vivid Weasley hair in the crowd. Harry smiled again; it looked like the stand was on fire.
The rest of the team came through the door. The three chasers immediately started combing their hair. It was three girls, again like Harry's Quidditch team at school. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were originally Gryffindor chasers, but the third was Cho Chang who smiled and waved at Harry who began straightening his shin pads.
The two beaters then walked in. One was Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player that Harry had met in his latter years at Hogwarts. The other, Harry fixed with a menacing glare. He returned one.
"Got your bed booked in St Mungo's, Potter?"
"Only if you want us to lose the game, Malfoy."
Draco Malfoy was swinging his beater's bat in his long fingers. The smirk had disappeared from his face. Harry was right. If Malfoy knocked Harry off his broom, they would have to forfeit the match, and Malfoy hated to lose at Quidditch. But how else was he to get at his nemesis?
Malfoy disapparated. Harry went into the player's lounge before he got back. Why would he want to look at a naked Malfoy?
As the other players got changed they too took themselves to the lounge. Five minutes passed and with minutes to the game, they went to get their broomsticks.
Malfoy was back and changed. He was shutting his locker and went to get his Nimbus 2001 like everyone else.
Harry mounted his pride and joy Firebolt, waiting for the doors to open.
A whistle blew somewhere and the doors creaked open. The team took off and Ludo Bagman's voice was jabbering excitedly down his magnified wand.
"And it's England with Wood, Johnson, Spinnet, Chang, Smith, Malfoy aaaaaaaaand Potter!"
Hermione and the Weasleys were cheering madly at the sound of Harry's name. Harry flew past and waved to them.
"And here comes Spain! Spain with Luis, Enrique, Figo, Raoul, Rolando, Ig.um.can't pronounce your name aaaaaaaaand Ronaldo!"
The Spaniards were dressed in orange and stood out so vividly from the English players, there was a bit of jeering in the stands.
"And our referee, Zoë Hooch!"
Madam Hooch put down the crate he was holding and kicked it open. Snitch and bludgers flew out and Madam Hooch threw the quaffle into the air and rose into it herself.
Harry squinted about for the snitch in the sunlight. Suddenly a bludger smashed into the side of his head.
Dazed, Harry heard sneering. He turned his aching head to Malfoy practically laughing his own head off.
"Sooo sorry, team mate." He laughed again. "I was aiming for the Spaniard over there!"
So that was his plan. To aim warning shots at him. Not hard enough to knock him off his broomstick, but hard enough to hurt.
Harry zoomed to the other side of the pitch. He'd just have to play hard to get then, wouldn't he.?
"England scoreeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Harry punched his fist to the air. "YES!" and then had to dodge another bludger sent by Malfoy.
Harry's heart leapt. He'd seen the snitch! He grasped his Firebolt handle tightly and sped at amazing speed towards it.
"England score again!!!!!!!!!! 20-0 to England!!! Hang on a minute! Potter's seen the snitch!"
Three quarters of the crowd were behind the English 18 year old. Harry was gaining.but so was Ronaldo, the Spanish seeker.
Harry's fingers closed around the golden ball and he felt satisfaction course through his body at the sight of Ronaldo's surprised expression.
The stands erupted with cheering. But no one was cheering harder than the Weasleys.
Malfoy was smirking. His chance had come. They would still win, even if the little hero fell off his broom. And if he didn't, the planning would be a waste, not to mention the money.
He quickly found a bludger and batted it hard towards Harry. He wasn't disappointed; it hit Harry right in the fore head.
Harry's head was full of cheer when the bludger hit him. It knocked him right off his broomstick. If that hadn't knocked him out, the ground certainly would; he fell fifty feet onto hard, grassy soil.
He came round with a numb feeling in his body and a piercing pain in his shoulder. He couldn't open his eyes or move his limbs.
As some of the feeling returned he felt a cool, soothing hand at his head. He opened his eyes and saw vivid hair surrounding him. Then he realised who the hand belonged to.
"Mrs Weasley?"
The Weasleys and Hermione were at his side with looks of worry and concern on their faces.
Mrs Weasley spoke first. "Harry, thank goodness you've come round! We were so worried!"
Even more people began to gather round. Ludo Bagman, Madam Hooch and even Rita Skeeter. "Hmmmm.The Boy Who Lived suffers Near Death Experience?" she suggested.
"How long have I." Harry began.
"Fifteen minutes," said Hermione
Harry swallowed. He'd been out cold fifteen minutes! "Everyone thought you'd died," said Ron looking pale. "Are you sure you're alright?" Both Mrs Weasley and Hermione gave Ron don't-be-so-stupid looks and then their eyes flicked to Harry's shoulder for a second before resuming on his face.
Harry dared look at his shoulder. It was now obvious why people only took a glimpse. He nearly passed out again.
The broomstick handle had embedded itself in the place where Harry's arm met his torso. The blood was staining his white robes. Harry read FIREBO on the handle before it sunk into his skin. Bits of broomstick littered the floor around him. Mrs Weasley must have seen the horror on his face, because she spoke some comforting words.
"The mediwizards will be here soon to look at that."
How could Harry tell her that the look of horror was because of his broomstick? He merely nodded.
A pale face surrounded by blonde locks of hair appeared above the Weasleys. Unlike them of course, it hadn't a trace of sympathy or concern. It was glee.
"You know," said Malfoy. "Broomsticks are easy to replace. Shoulders are harder."
At the look on Draco's face, Harry knew it was he who fired the bludger at him.
"You son of a Crup!" shouted Harry. He made an effort to stand up and pound Malfoy to mush but Mrs Weasley made him lie down again ("You don't want to damage yourself even more!") so Harry was forced to put his head back down on the ground.
The mediwizards soon arrived. They were stalled a bit by Mrs Weasley's ranting that they should have been here sooner, ("I suppose even if a wizard was bleeding to death you would still take half an hour to get there!")
While Mrs Weasley was arguing with the now flustered mediwizard, it gave Harry time to talk to Ron and Hermione.
"Well, at least we won," said Harry. "Yeah, I guess," replied Ron. "My plan worked like, well, a charm," sneered Malfoy. Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "You tampered with my broomstick?" "No." "What do you mean," said Ron menacingly.
So Draco told them. He told them about disapparating to Diagon Alley and buying a Firebolt. He told them about charming it full of light but strong, pointed metal. And sure enough, when Mrs Weasley had no more voice in her, and the handle was removed, there was a metal point on the end. ("So it would stick into Potter more easily.")
When Harry was finally healed and pronounced satisfactory, he went and changed.
He went to talk to Oliver to have Draco removed from the team.
"Sorry Harry, no can do."
"But, Oliver, he tried to kill me!"
Chapter 1
It was a brilliant day for Quidditch. The sun was shining and there wasn't a grey cloud. The stand was full to bursting with people and it was England's new seeker's, Harry Potter, first game as an international player.
He sat in the changing room pulling on his white Quidditch robes. It was a lot different to the scarlet Gryffindor ones he had worn in previous years.
England's captain and keeper strode in. "Hey Harry! Nervous?"
Harry couldn't help but smile. With someone like Oliver Wood as his captain and keeper it was almost as good as being back at Hogwarts.
Oliver sat down beside his teammate from past years and now once again. " It's a shame that Ron wasn't picked for the team," he said slowly. "I heard he took my place when I left and he wasn't bad either." Harry nodded. It was a Weasley free team. Fred and George were too busy with the joke shop to play beaters.
"They're here." Harry looked at Oliver uncertainly. " Hermione too." Harry was now looking at Oliver as if he was crazy. " Well.Bill, Charlie, Percy and Mr Weasley had to go to work but the others are here." Harry peered out of the window in the dressing room to the pitch. Scanning around the stands, he soon found the vivid Weasley hair in the crowd. Harry smiled again; it looked like the stand was on fire.
The rest of the team came through the door. The three chasers immediately started combing their hair. It was three girls, again like Harry's Quidditch team at school. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were originally Gryffindor chasers, but the third was Cho Chang who smiled and waved at Harry who began straightening his shin pads.
The two beaters then walked in. One was Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player that Harry had met in his latter years at Hogwarts. The other, Harry fixed with a menacing glare. He returned one.
"Got your bed booked in St Mungo's, Potter?"
"Only if you want us to lose the game, Malfoy."
Draco Malfoy was swinging his beater's bat in his long fingers. The smirk had disappeared from his face. Harry was right. If Malfoy knocked Harry off his broom, they would have to forfeit the match, and Malfoy hated to lose at Quidditch. But how else was he to get at his nemesis?
Malfoy disapparated. Harry went into the player's lounge before he got back. Why would he want to look at a naked Malfoy?
As the other players got changed they too took themselves to the lounge. Five minutes passed and with minutes to the game, they went to get their broomsticks.
Malfoy was back and changed. He was shutting his locker and went to get his Nimbus 2001 like everyone else.
Harry mounted his pride and joy Firebolt, waiting for the doors to open.
A whistle blew somewhere and the doors creaked open. The team took off and Ludo Bagman's voice was jabbering excitedly down his magnified wand.
"And it's England with Wood, Johnson, Spinnet, Chang, Smith, Malfoy aaaaaaaaand Potter!"
Hermione and the Weasleys were cheering madly at the sound of Harry's name. Harry flew past and waved to them.
"And here comes Spain! Spain with Luis, Enrique, Figo, Raoul, Rolando, Ig.um.can't pronounce your name aaaaaaaaand Ronaldo!"
The Spaniards were dressed in orange and stood out so vividly from the English players, there was a bit of jeering in the stands.
"And our referee, Zoë Hooch!"
Madam Hooch put down the crate he was holding and kicked it open. Snitch and bludgers flew out and Madam Hooch threw the quaffle into the air and rose into it herself.
Harry squinted about for the snitch in the sunlight. Suddenly a bludger smashed into the side of his head.
Dazed, Harry heard sneering. He turned his aching head to Malfoy practically laughing his own head off.
"Sooo sorry, team mate." He laughed again. "I was aiming for the Spaniard over there!"
So that was his plan. To aim warning shots at him. Not hard enough to knock him off his broomstick, but hard enough to hurt.
Harry zoomed to the other side of the pitch. He'd just have to play hard to get then, wouldn't he.?
"England scoreeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Harry punched his fist to the air. "YES!" and then had to dodge another bludger sent by Malfoy.
Harry's heart leapt. He'd seen the snitch! He grasped his Firebolt handle tightly and sped at amazing speed towards it.
"England score again!!!!!!!!!! 20-0 to England!!! Hang on a minute! Potter's seen the snitch!"
Three quarters of the crowd were behind the English 18 year old. Harry was gaining.but so was Ronaldo, the Spanish seeker.
Harry's fingers closed around the golden ball and he felt satisfaction course through his body at the sight of Ronaldo's surprised expression.
The stands erupted with cheering. But no one was cheering harder than the Weasleys.
Malfoy was smirking. His chance had come. They would still win, even if the little hero fell off his broom. And if he didn't, the planning would be a waste, not to mention the money.
He quickly found a bludger and batted it hard towards Harry. He wasn't disappointed; it hit Harry right in the fore head.
Harry's head was full of cheer when the bludger hit him. It knocked him right off his broomstick. If that hadn't knocked him out, the ground certainly would; he fell fifty feet onto hard, grassy soil.
He came round with a numb feeling in his body and a piercing pain in his shoulder. He couldn't open his eyes or move his limbs.
As some of the feeling returned he felt a cool, soothing hand at his head. He opened his eyes and saw vivid hair surrounding him. Then he realised who the hand belonged to.
"Mrs Weasley?"
The Weasleys and Hermione were at his side with looks of worry and concern on their faces.
Mrs Weasley spoke first. "Harry, thank goodness you've come round! We were so worried!"
Even more people began to gather round. Ludo Bagman, Madam Hooch and even Rita Skeeter. "Hmmmm.The Boy Who Lived suffers Near Death Experience?" she suggested.
"How long have I." Harry began.
"Fifteen minutes," said Hermione
Harry swallowed. He'd been out cold fifteen minutes! "Everyone thought you'd died," said Ron looking pale. "Are you sure you're alright?" Both Mrs Weasley and Hermione gave Ron don't-be-so-stupid looks and then their eyes flicked to Harry's shoulder for a second before resuming on his face.
Harry dared look at his shoulder. It was now obvious why people only took a glimpse. He nearly passed out again.
The broomstick handle had embedded itself in the place where Harry's arm met his torso. The blood was staining his white robes. Harry read FIREBO on the handle before it sunk into his skin. Bits of broomstick littered the floor around him. Mrs Weasley must have seen the horror on his face, because she spoke some comforting words.
"The mediwizards will be here soon to look at that."
How could Harry tell her that the look of horror was because of his broomstick? He merely nodded.
A pale face surrounded by blonde locks of hair appeared above the Weasleys. Unlike them of course, it hadn't a trace of sympathy or concern. It was glee.
"You know," said Malfoy. "Broomsticks are easy to replace. Shoulders are harder."
At the look on Draco's face, Harry knew it was he who fired the bludger at him.
"You son of a Crup!" shouted Harry. He made an effort to stand up and pound Malfoy to mush but Mrs Weasley made him lie down again ("You don't want to damage yourself even more!") so Harry was forced to put his head back down on the ground.
The mediwizards soon arrived. They were stalled a bit by Mrs Weasley's ranting that they should have been here sooner, ("I suppose even if a wizard was bleeding to death you would still take half an hour to get there!")
While Mrs Weasley was arguing with the now flustered mediwizard, it gave Harry time to talk to Ron and Hermione.
"Well, at least we won," said Harry. "Yeah, I guess," replied Ron. "My plan worked like, well, a charm," sneered Malfoy. Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "You tampered with my broomstick?" "No." "What do you mean," said Ron menacingly.
So Draco told them. He told them about disapparating to Diagon Alley and buying a Firebolt. He told them about charming it full of light but strong, pointed metal. And sure enough, when Mrs Weasley had no more voice in her, and the handle was removed, there was a metal point on the end. ("So it would stick into Potter more easily.")
When Harry was finally healed and pronounced satisfactory, he went and changed.
He went to talk to Oliver to have Draco removed from the team.
"Sorry Harry, no can do."
"But, Oliver, he tried to kill me!"