Time seemed to fly and before Harry knew it, he had finished his truth
potion, had been to a few more Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts
lessons with Dumbledore, and most importantly, (in Harry's mind at least)
their upcoming Quidditch game, which would be held in a few short hours
versus Slytherin, which would decide which team it would be to enter the
Quidditch finals. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had played in the rain last
week, with Ravenclaw coming the winner in their close game; the Hufflepuff
Seeker, Edison, had gotten to the Snitch before Cho, something which Harry
found strangely pleasing, but since their Keeper's record performance in
giving up twenty three goals, had lost the game two hundred and thirty to
one hundred and ninety, Ravenclaw's favor, something that Harry found more
strangely pleasing because he would get to beat Cho if they won.
So Gryffindor and Slytherin with one victory apiece, would be competing against each other for the coveted position in the Cup. Harry had fallen asleep the other night and had dreamt of winning the Cup and having his name on a plaque in the trophy room for being Seeker when he left school, and he hoped fervently that it would come true.
Ron and Hermione wasted most of breakfast the next morning trying to coax Harry into eating his cereal, but Harry felt like he had some slimy, wriggling snakes for dinner last night, couldn't eat anything. At Katie called the team for a last, short practice and go-through of their plans and rules and he gratefully left the table.
After the brief pep talk, which ended with Katie giving a final good luck, the team changed into their Quidditch robes and, clutching their brooms, entered the arena to roaring applause.
"Welcome all to this Quidditch match, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor!" yelled Lee Jordan, "This year's Gryffindor team — Captain Katie Bell, Ginny Weasley, Emma Bowman, Colin and Dennis Creevey, and Harry Potter! They are currently one game away from the final and are facing Slytherin. As they both have one win, this match will decide who is to be in the finals.
"Anyway . . . Bell and Warrington shake hands, and the Quaffle goes up. Grabbed by— Bell. Katie Bell tearing up the pitch and— oh hit by a Bludger from Goyle, drops the Quaffle. Caught by — Montague.
"Montague, incidentally, has spent some time this summer in Saint Mungo's and is now fully cured, unfortunately, and back on the Quidditch team."
Boos came from the few hundred people on the Slytherin side.
"Anyway," continued Lee, "he passes to Nott. Renowned son of a Death Eater — I mean respectable father — "
He danced out of Professor McGonagall's reach, and succeeded, having many years of practice.
"Nott goes up and he shoots and he —" Lee swore very loudly and Professor McGonagall tried to pull away the large purple microphone, but missed again, "— scores, ten to zero Slytherin.
"Anyway, quaffle batted to Ginny Weasley, she zooms up the pitch, passes to Bell, who reverse passes to Bowman, she puts it up through the middle hoop, no problem, and ten points to Gryffindor, and the game is tied."
Harry lost track of things for around ten minutes, circling for the Snitch, when Lee suddenly said,
". . . and Slytherin leads sixty points to forty, and Weasley has the Quaffle, oh ducks a Bludger but drops it, Montague coming under her catch — whoa, Dennis Creevey hits a bludger at the Quaffle and shifts it onto Bowman's path, and she puts it through again, sixty to fifty . . . ."
Harry dozed off yet again, and sped around and around the pitch, looking for the seemingly-non-existent Snitch. He realized that Malfoy was following him closely, keeping an eye on Harry just in case he spotted the Snitch.
Not like there's too much sense in that, thought Harry dryly, because I do have the faster broom. Well, if Malfoy was going to follow him, he would learn his lesson the hard way.
Using the Wronski Feint he had seen Krum do in the Quidditch World Cup, Harry shot down in the midst of the other twelve players, with Malfoy trying to follow him. Malfoy dove after him, but Harry had done so just to prove his point— that Malfoy's inferior broom was indeed no match for Harry's Firebolt. He remembered Madame Hooch saying how Nimbuses often developed problems after a few years of use, and Malfoy's was in its fourth year already.
Malfoy looked down, trying vainly to sight the Snitch Harry was aiming for, and as Harry chanced a backward look, he saw that the Feint was indeed working. If Malfoy kept it up a second too long he would smash into the ground. He kept it up a second too long.
A dull thud filled the stadium, followed the crowd laughing and cheering, while the Slytherins as one, it seemed to Harry, ground and gnashed their teeth at him.
Madame Pomfrey was on the arena ground giving Malfoy something of a potion. Malfoy, himself, was white faced and shaking. Harry used the time out to float gently on his broomstick and look for the Snitch without interruption. As Malfoy climbed back shakily onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One, Harry spotted it.
He dove, but Malfoy, who was already near he ground, yelled, "You'll never get it, Potter!"
Harry decided to show him up as a liar. Putting on all his speed, he whizzed at a spectacular one hundred fifty miles an hour, leaving Malfoy looking dumbfounded and dazed as something in scarlet robes shot past him. Harry could hardly hear anything except for the wind whistling in his ears as he put on all his speed. He stretched out his hand and reached out to catch the Snitch—
WHAM!
Nott, a Slytherin Chaser, had moved into Harry's path and blocked him, but Harry was going so fast that he hit Nott's head, and he fell off the broomstick. Harry turned in spite of himself as Nott, almost in slow motion, fell from his broom fifty or sixty feet and landed unconscious on the ground with a surprisingly loud WHUMP!
But Nott's goal had been accomplished; Harry had lost the Snitch again. He had no choice but to resume play, but told himself that next time he would get the Snitch or perish in the attempt. Die trying, thought Harry wryly, recalling his old Captain, Oliver Wood, who had said that to him years ago.
As Nott was brought to the hospital wing, Harry had the thought that now that the Slytherins were a Chaser short they would certainly not get to the Cup if Harry caught the Snitch. He proved to be right.
Within the next ten minutes Gryffindor had broken the game wide open, Ron giving off one goal and pulling three more spectacular saves, while the Chasers scored seven more goals.
Then, for the second time, he caught sight of the Snitch hovering by the Gryffindor goalposts. He dove a few feet and pulled out quickly, but Malfoy was shooting there also and he was much closer. . . .
Harry, again, put on all his speed, and he could hardly hear a thing; his hearing had stopped working, even the wind wasn't making any noise. All he could see was Malfoy, with a triumphant look on his face, diving to the Snitch, mere feet in front of him. . . .
But Harry was moving fast. He was almost level with Malfoy but Malfoy had stretched out his hand to catch it, when—
CRACK!
A Bludger came pelting out of nowhere and smashed into Malfoy's outstretched arm, and by the sound of it, the Bludger had broken it, Harry zoomed past him, now approaching the wall of the arena at full speed, and reached out and grabbed the Snitch out of the air.
He flipped over a few times to stop himself from crashing headlong into the wall. Then suddenly his hearing returned. Lee was yelling, ". . . AND GRYFFINDOR IS GOING TO THE QUIDDITCH FINALS!"
The crowd was cheering and yelling. As the team flew back down to earth, they yelled, "WE'RE GOING TO THE CUP! WE'RE GOING TO THE CUP!"
Harry landed in the midst of cheering and dancing with a great smile on his face. Hermione ran over to them and shook Harry's hand and hugged Ron.
Harry noticed that Hermione's face was covered in nail marks, which was probably because he had almost crashed into the wall at one hundred and fifty miles an hour, but before Harry had a chance to ask, the rest of team picked up Harry on their shoulders and marched off, while Ron and Lee, who had came down to congratulate them, went to the kitchens for food for a night long party.
* * *
So Gryffindor and Slytherin with one victory apiece, would be competing against each other for the coveted position in the Cup. Harry had fallen asleep the other night and had dreamt of winning the Cup and having his name on a plaque in the trophy room for being Seeker when he left school, and he hoped fervently that it would come true.
Ron and Hermione wasted most of breakfast the next morning trying to coax Harry into eating his cereal, but Harry felt like he had some slimy, wriggling snakes for dinner last night, couldn't eat anything. At Katie called the team for a last, short practice and go-through of their plans and rules and he gratefully left the table.
After the brief pep talk, which ended with Katie giving a final good luck, the team changed into their Quidditch robes and, clutching their brooms, entered the arena to roaring applause.
"Welcome all to this Quidditch match, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor!" yelled Lee Jordan, "This year's Gryffindor team — Captain Katie Bell, Ginny Weasley, Emma Bowman, Colin and Dennis Creevey, and Harry Potter! They are currently one game away from the final and are facing Slytherin. As they both have one win, this match will decide who is to be in the finals.
"Anyway . . . Bell and Warrington shake hands, and the Quaffle goes up. Grabbed by— Bell. Katie Bell tearing up the pitch and— oh hit by a Bludger from Goyle, drops the Quaffle. Caught by — Montague.
"Montague, incidentally, has spent some time this summer in Saint Mungo's and is now fully cured, unfortunately, and back on the Quidditch team."
Boos came from the few hundred people on the Slytherin side.
"Anyway," continued Lee, "he passes to Nott. Renowned son of a Death Eater — I mean respectable father — "
He danced out of Professor McGonagall's reach, and succeeded, having many years of practice.
"Nott goes up and he shoots and he —" Lee swore very loudly and Professor McGonagall tried to pull away the large purple microphone, but missed again, "— scores, ten to zero Slytherin.
"Anyway, quaffle batted to Ginny Weasley, she zooms up the pitch, passes to Bell, who reverse passes to Bowman, she puts it up through the middle hoop, no problem, and ten points to Gryffindor, and the game is tied."
Harry lost track of things for around ten minutes, circling for the Snitch, when Lee suddenly said,
". . . and Slytherin leads sixty points to forty, and Weasley has the Quaffle, oh ducks a Bludger but drops it, Montague coming under her catch — whoa, Dennis Creevey hits a bludger at the Quaffle and shifts it onto Bowman's path, and she puts it through again, sixty to fifty . . . ."
Harry dozed off yet again, and sped around and around the pitch, looking for the seemingly-non-existent Snitch. He realized that Malfoy was following him closely, keeping an eye on Harry just in case he spotted the Snitch.
Not like there's too much sense in that, thought Harry dryly, because I do have the faster broom. Well, if Malfoy was going to follow him, he would learn his lesson the hard way.
Using the Wronski Feint he had seen Krum do in the Quidditch World Cup, Harry shot down in the midst of the other twelve players, with Malfoy trying to follow him. Malfoy dove after him, but Harry had done so just to prove his point— that Malfoy's inferior broom was indeed no match for Harry's Firebolt. He remembered Madame Hooch saying how Nimbuses often developed problems after a few years of use, and Malfoy's was in its fourth year already.
Malfoy looked down, trying vainly to sight the Snitch Harry was aiming for, and as Harry chanced a backward look, he saw that the Feint was indeed working. If Malfoy kept it up a second too long he would smash into the ground. He kept it up a second too long.
A dull thud filled the stadium, followed the crowd laughing and cheering, while the Slytherins as one, it seemed to Harry, ground and gnashed their teeth at him.
Madame Pomfrey was on the arena ground giving Malfoy something of a potion. Malfoy, himself, was white faced and shaking. Harry used the time out to float gently on his broomstick and look for the Snitch without interruption. As Malfoy climbed back shakily onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One, Harry spotted it.
He dove, but Malfoy, who was already near he ground, yelled, "You'll never get it, Potter!"
Harry decided to show him up as a liar. Putting on all his speed, he whizzed at a spectacular one hundred fifty miles an hour, leaving Malfoy looking dumbfounded and dazed as something in scarlet robes shot past him. Harry could hardly hear anything except for the wind whistling in his ears as he put on all his speed. He stretched out his hand and reached out to catch the Snitch—
WHAM!
Nott, a Slytherin Chaser, had moved into Harry's path and blocked him, but Harry was going so fast that he hit Nott's head, and he fell off the broomstick. Harry turned in spite of himself as Nott, almost in slow motion, fell from his broom fifty or sixty feet and landed unconscious on the ground with a surprisingly loud WHUMP!
But Nott's goal had been accomplished; Harry had lost the Snitch again. He had no choice but to resume play, but told himself that next time he would get the Snitch or perish in the attempt. Die trying, thought Harry wryly, recalling his old Captain, Oliver Wood, who had said that to him years ago.
As Nott was brought to the hospital wing, Harry had the thought that now that the Slytherins were a Chaser short they would certainly not get to the Cup if Harry caught the Snitch. He proved to be right.
Within the next ten minutes Gryffindor had broken the game wide open, Ron giving off one goal and pulling three more spectacular saves, while the Chasers scored seven more goals.
Then, for the second time, he caught sight of the Snitch hovering by the Gryffindor goalposts. He dove a few feet and pulled out quickly, but Malfoy was shooting there also and he was much closer. . . .
Harry, again, put on all his speed, and he could hardly hear a thing; his hearing had stopped working, even the wind wasn't making any noise. All he could see was Malfoy, with a triumphant look on his face, diving to the Snitch, mere feet in front of him. . . .
But Harry was moving fast. He was almost level with Malfoy but Malfoy had stretched out his hand to catch it, when—
CRACK!
A Bludger came pelting out of nowhere and smashed into Malfoy's outstretched arm, and by the sound of it, the Bludger had broken it, Harry zoomed past him, now approaching the wall of the arena at full speed, and reached out and grabbed the Snitch out of the air.
He flipped over a few times to stop himself from crashing headlong into the wall. Then suddenly his hearing returned. Lee was yelling, ". . . AND GRYFFINDOR IS GOING TO THE QUIDDITCH FINALS!"
The crowd was cheering and yelling. As the team flew back down to earth, they yelled, "WE'RE GOING TO THE CUP! WE'RE GOING TO THE CUP!"
Harry landed in the midst of cheering and dancing with a great smile on his face. Hermione ran over to them and shook Harry's hand and hugged Ron.
Harry noticed that Hermione's face was covered in nail marks, which was probably because he had almost crashed into the wall at one hundred and fifty miles an hour, but before Harry had a chance to ask, the rest of team picked up Harry on their shoulders and marched off, while Ron and Lee, who had came down to congratulate them, went to the kitchens for food for a night long party.
* * *