Ch 7

As expected, the crowd simultaneously gasped as I separated myself permanently from the broom.

A startled Reilley just managed to scramble away from his post as I fell well past the box right into the middle of the stands below.

As opposed to the alternative 10 feet drop to the ground, crashing into the stands at a mere 4 feet was a breeze and luckily for me I had a soft landing or rather a freckly fifth year named Stevenson was the landing, who would later sport a sprained collarbone at the Infirmary ward.

Lying there in a state of bemusement, not knowing where my limbs were scattered I was faintly aware of how lucky I was to survive such a reckless tactic. Heads bobbed all over my peripheral vision and unseen hands tried propping me up from the moaning human cushion underneath.

"Hey! are you crazy!?"

"Oh my God, we thought you.."

".. was so cool!"

".. that in your hand?"

I gazed down at my left fist that was tightly clenched around something. With a curious sense of lightheadedness I thought my hand had sprouted wings. Slowly unfurling my fingers, a glimpse of the struggling gold snitch sent an electric shock to through my spine.

"HEY! She got the snitch!!" squealed a girl on my left, emitting a long scream that was joined by several others until it resembled a strange discordant wail.

The unseen hands now lifted me high above their owner's heads and passed me down the stand. It felt like I was swimming in a sea of upturned palms. Grinning slowly, I waved my arms to the ecstatic crowd.

It took me a few minutes to realize that Gryffindors everywhere were giving massive group hugs and yelling until they grew purple in the face.

I turned my head (with some difficulty) to the commentary stand.

Only then did I hear the final score re - read by an impatient Professor McGonagall to the noisy jubilant crowd.

The Slytherins score was 140 but the Gryffindors scored 150 owing to a couple of combined last minute goals set by Gryffindor chasers Bane and Pater.

I slumped against the hands.

I had caught my first snitch but still managed to lose the game. In a way, it was a fitting form of revenge against the Slytherins , but instead of elation I felt...awful.

Not waiting for Professor Dumbledore who was congratulating the Gryffindor Quiddich Captain, I made my way through the throngs of rejoicing fans. Some of them extricated themselves long enough to congratulate me on the "wicked flying" up there and although I acknowledged them with fixed smiles, my heart felt set in lead.

I tried consoling myself that at least I was left off the Filchian tour but to no effect.

Just then, there was a change in the general tone of the crowds. I glanced towards the Podium and saw several hands pointing at me.

" 'ere she is!! " said a small red haired Hufflepuff boy.

Looking up, I saw Dumbledore standing up there on the podium, beckoning me to come forward. He held a smaller trophy in his hand and the effect was like Moses raising his staff to part the sea of interested spectators.

I stared for a few moments.

Then began the slow dream-like walk towards him.

EPILOGUE

Clutching the Promising player of the Match trophy an hour later, I made my way back to the Slytherin Common room.

My progress was arrested when I was overtaken by a panting Trent.

I opened my mouth and got as far as, "Ah!" as in " Ah ha! just-the-low-lying-cretin-I-wanted-to–see", when he spoke first.

"There you are !", he said, drawing me aside to the statue of Urugyle the Brave.

I began again.

"Now, you listen to me you - "

"– wantedto tell you (pant..pant..) that what you pulled back there (pant..) was great stuff

never mind the fact that you still lost us the game, but ", he added, "that was not the only point I wanted to make..."

"Erm..?" was all I could manage.

Trent didn't notice the interruption and plunged on.

"there's also the matter of a meeting for the whole team tomorrow and Dorchester says you'll be starting Seeker practice for the next match as soon as he delivers the news to Croesus, which should be..." He glanced at his pocket watch. " ..around about now, I should think."

Trent paused to tuck the silver chain in his pocket and I used the time to draw up my sagging jaw.

"But I .. how can this be? I mean, I thought you were all...well, we're not exactly mates in the first place are we?"

Trent wrinkled his forehead slightly and cocked his head to one side.

"I don't know what you mean, Meadowes...what did the sorting hat declare in your first year?"

"Slytherin..."

"So what's your point? That makes you a mate and comrade, and little snot heads like Croesus and his cronies who have currently no market value in the Quidditch stakes are not worth listening to........besides, you hardly speak to any of us. You're always off with the Ravenclaws or the Hufflepuffs...."

I opened my mouth to protest but found I couldn't. It was all true and I didn't want to face it until today.

Even Trent was showing signs of uncomfortability and quickly changed the topic to Me-bashing.

"You know what, Meadowes ... we could have won that cup if you hadn't decided to rescue 'the Siren' and paid attention to those repeated warnings I gave in the stands to not catch the Snitch so early.....it's a good thing I switched the 100-3 odds on you finding the snitch but losing the game! Think of the reversal of Hogsmeade allowances that is in my possession now...." He said, tapping his pocket which made a heavy 'clunk' sound.

"There is as we speak, a mob of poorer but wiser third and fourth years drowning their sorrows in the Three Broomsticks as we speak. The Establishment's happy, I'm happy, Dorchester and Paris aren't happy but who cares about them, eh? "

He gave an absent minded grin, and started to walk towards the Great Hall. He paused in mid stride, snapped his fingers, and whipped around.

"Oh yes! Knew there was that other thing...Professor Snape got back after I spoke with Dorchester and will be in the staff room..." .

I stood there dangling the trophy in my hand for several moments after he was gone.

When Professor Dumbledore commended my "act of self service for a team player ", he also awarded 50 points to Slytherin that bowled me over completely. The same feeling of knocking nine pins down with a single ball came from Trent's unexpected revelation.

The more cynical part of me wanted to ignore everything he said but luckily the sensible part beat the former down. What would auntie Dorcas have done? The right thing.

She knew she didn't have to hide away forever....

Glancing down at the cup, I sighed and waved away the tempting vision to swing it at 'Rat-face's' retreating head.

'After all, maybe today was a sign of good things to come, I thought as I made my way to the staff room.

Fin.