CHAPTER 12
Gryffindor Versus Slytherin
It didn't take long before all of Hogwarts new what had happened between Harry and Draco. Oddly enough, however, nobody seemed to know why it occured. There were only four people who knew the truth, and three of them were not about to reveal it, lest they let the criminal know that he was being searched for. The fourth one, Draco, didn't say anything out of fear of retaliation. For once, Draco showed very little nerve about a subject.
The following week, Harry, Hermione, and Ron found themselves in the common room finishing up their extensive Potions homework. As usual, Harry wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. He couldn't stop thinking about what Malfoy had said. Could it be that Malfoy was, in fact, innocent, and the real vermin was still out there? He wasn't willing to let that possibility slide, and tried to come up with a whole now list of suspects. Hermione seemed to sense Harry's discomfort, and was even able to tell what the problem was. "Harry, look, you don't have to find out who it was. It's over. They've slipped away," she said after a long silence.
Harry didn't respond. He wasn't going to give up now; he had to get to the bottom of this. There must be something he was missing. He figured that Draco Malfoy could not be the only blond with greasy hair, but his mind couldn't work past the immediately obvious. He heaved a sigh of frustration. Hermione spoke softly. "I appreciate it all the same, though, Harry." He went slightly red. He caught sight of Ron, who looked innocently at his parchment, but Harry knew that underneath he was full of jealousy. Harry, not wanting to irritate his friend more, continued working on his essay about the use of demiguise hair in potions.
Colin Creevey ran up to his hero, sporting his overly large camera. "Hey, Harry, I'm all set to take pictures of the Quidditch match tomorrow!"
Harry merely said, "That's great, Colin." Even when greeted with this response, Colin looked ecstatic. He turned around and went to up the stairs.
"That kid's a bit annoying, isn't he?" asked Ron. "But you know, Harry, you should get yourself rested up. You're playing against Slytherin. There's no telling what Malfoy will do to you after what you did last week."
"You're probably right." With that, Harry went upstairs and slept.
The whistle blew and Harry pushed off on his broom. The Quidditch match had begun, and Harry was trying to be extra cautious. Draco Malfoy sped straight for him immediately, but Harry dodged it. He was ready for an attack, but he didn't expect one right away!
Fred seemed to have detected this, and at the first opportunity, sent a bludger straight at Malfoy. Much to Harry's disappointment, he avoided the assault. Harry thought it best just to search for the Snitch and end the game as quickly as possible. He zoomed around the field looking for the tiny golden ball, all the time keeping his guard up should Malfoy choose to strike.
"KATIE BELL SCORES TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!" shouted Lee Jordan. "Bletchley of Slytherin tosses the Quaffle back into play. He passes it to Warrington. . .Warrington to Montague. . .Oh! And Montague is hit by a Bludger sent his way by George Weasley!. . .Alicia Spinnet gains control of the Quaffle. . .She's making it through the Slytherin team easily!. . .She shoots, and--blocked. Slytherin is back in possession. . ."
Harry felt a gust of wind shoot by his nose. No sooner had he felt this than he had seen that it wasn't wind at all; it was the Snitch! Harry burst forward as Malfoy came up beside him. Malfoy kicked at Harry's broom, determined to knock it off its course. The Firebolt did indeed sway a bit, but it never went too far off. Harry's foot met Malfoy's broom and he ended up doing a barrel roll to keep from losing total control. Harry stretched out his arm, but the Snitch was still out of reach. Malfoy caught back up with him. Another kick met Harry's Firebolt, but something wasn't right. All of a sudden, Harry was no longer flying straight; he wasn't even flying at all! He was falling! In a desperate move, he clutched Draco's broom and held on for dear life. Looking below, he was able to see his dearly beloved Firebolt in two pieces, accelerating to the ground. Draco regained his balance and looked smugly at Harry. Then he saw it. To his horror, not only had Draco broken his prized broomstick, but the blond was clutching a shiny, golden sphere. Off in the distance, a whistle blew, cheers from the Slytherin section went up, and players in scarlet robes left the field. Slytherin had won the match.