Harry clipped his shin guards into place, and tightened the straps on his
arm-protectors. He had a feeling more than his fair share of Bludgers would
be heading his way today.
"Right!" he hollered, to the other side of the lockers, "All set over there? Time for a huddle."
Katie and Ginny trotted out from behind the second row of lockers, and seated themselves on the nearest bench.
"Right," Harry said, trying to psych himself up as much as his teammates, "Slytherin plays dirty, we know that. So be ready for anything, and whatever you do, don't get fouled. With any luck, Madame Hooch will be on the lookout for them, and we'll get plenty of penalty shots."
"Ron, no matter what they do, no matter what they say—"
"I know," Ron said, "I'll behave."
"Chasers, lots of passing today – they can't attack you if they can't keep track of who's got the Quaffle. Remember, Neville, three-dimensions...plenty of up and down, not just side-to-side. Jack, Andrew, keep an eye on Crabbe and Goyle, see who they're targeting. If I know Malfoy," he said, the name sour in his mouth, "He'll have them ganging up on one player at a time, hoping for an injury. Broderick, if that happens, I'll call time, and you get right in there."
"Right!" Broderick said eagerly, "Err, watch your backs out there, though" he added with a wink. The team chuckled.
"Right," Harry said, glancing at the clock on the wall, and stalling for a moment. He racked his brains. He was forgetting something, he knew it. What did Wood say when he wanted to be inspiring?
"Let's do it," Ron said.
The team clapped and cheered, Andrew and Jack whooping loudly.
"Hands in!" Harry said. With a quick, "Go, Go, Gryffindor!" they headed out to the field.
The noise from the crowd was deafening. Harry looked over at the Gryffindor stands, and saw Luna's ridiculous lion hat, roaring away inaudibly under the commotion. He could just make out Hermione jumping and waving, along with several members of the D.A.
Lee Jordan's voice boomed out over the Quidditch pitch.
"And now, the Gryffindor team! Potter, Bell, the Weasleys, Sloper, Kirke, and Longbottom!"
Neville looked awestruck at the sound of his name, and the roar of the crowd.
"How d'y'like that, eh?" Ron said nudging him cheerfully with his elbow.
He seemed torn between happiness and utter terror.
Madame Hooch called the team over with a blast of her whistle. Harry walked over to where she and the Slytherin team were already waiting.
"I want a good, clean match!" she hollered over the din, "Shake hands!"
Harry reached across and took Malfoy's hand, both of them smiling angrily and trying to squeeze the other's fingers off.
"That's enough of that," Madame Hooch said sternly, and they mounted their brooms.
The Snitch and the Bludgers were released, and with a blast of her whistle, the Quaffle was tossed up into the air.
Harry zoomed off the ground, the Snitch still in his sight. He heard the crack of a bat on a Bludger, and instinctly went into his Sloth Grip Roll, hearing it whoosh overhead before he righted himself. In that brief instant, the Snitch had disappeared. He saw Malfoy hanging about a few feet behind him, tailing him, as usual. He gave Potter a snide wave.
"And it's Katie Bell of Gryffindor in possession!" Lee said excitedly, "Bell passing to Ginny Weasley, one of the substitute players from last year... whole family's great Quidditch players – Ohhh! Narrow miss, that, a Bludger from Crabbe. Weasley passing to seventh-year Katie Bell, Bell [I]right[/I] to Longbottom, what a pass! And it's Longbottom...Longbottom still in possession...Ohhhhh! Stolen by newcomer Malcom Baddock, quite a lot of new blood this year...Baddock proving himself to be quite a flier, unfortunately."
"Jordan!" warned Professor McGonagall.
"What? It's a compliment, Professor. Pucey passing to Warrington, Warrington now with the Quaffle...Too bad! A well-timed Bludger from Sloper, but it's wide...Warrington back to Baddock – is that the Snitch?!"
Harry was diving towards the ground, his arm outstretched. Malfoy wrenched his broom about and followed suit. Harry kept his gaze steady, nerves ajangle. Two Bludgers whizzed by him in rapid succession.
"Lay off, you idiots!" Malfoy called from behind him.
Finally, at the last minute, Harry leaned all of his weight backwards, and pulled up. He could hear Malfoy shout as he scraped the ground, and then heard a dull thud.
"An [I]excellent[/I] Wronski Feint from Potter, unseating Slytherin Captain Draco Malfoy, and, a what a save from Keeper Ron Weasley! Ataway, Ron! And Weasley throws the Quaffle in – Ginny Weasley again in posession – What? NO! I don't [I]believe[/I] it!"
Harry heard Madame Hooch's shrill whistle, and turned to see what had happened.
"Keeper Ron Weasley takes a Bludger directly to the head! Absolutely despicable foul, there, from Beater—"
"Jordan!"
"Fine, fine, your regular garden-variety foul from Beater Vincent Crabbe. Is he alright?"
Harry landed with a rush, and stumbled over to where Ron was laying, Katie and Ginny arriving as well.
"Mr. Weasley? Are you alright?" Madame Hooch asked in her brisk, business- like tone.
Ron groaned, and tried to sit up, but he clutched his head, and sank to his elbows. He'd landed on his arm, and his shoulder seemed a bit funny.
"Mm'fine," he slurred, "Lem meonna broom..."
"Are you quite sure?" Madame Hooch repeated.
"Teller, Haaarr...I c'ns...tillplay..." Ron said, trying very hard to focus on Harry.
Madame Hooch turned to Harry, her face doubtful.
"It's your, call, Captain."
Harry froze. He didn't want to take Ron out – but he didn't want him hurt either – and on the other hand, there was the team to think about – could he even play?
Ron was blinking owlishly, and shook his head as though trying to clear his vision.
Harry felt a hand on his arm. He looked over and saw Ginny Weasley standing next to him, her face white.
"Take him out," Harry said, sadly.
Ron scowled, "I c'n..play... I...Ohhh..."
He seemed as though he were going to retch, then clutched his stomach and slumped back to the pitch.
"Just for a short while, Ron," Harry said trying to sound reassuring, "We'll bring you back in."
Neville and Broderick Johnson landed neatly to Harry's right.
"Bloody hell," Broderick said, looking shaken, "Is he alright?"
Harry did some quick thinking. "Johnson - trade with Neville. Neville, you take Keeper."
"What?" Neville said, his eyes round with panic, "But I've never even—"
"It'll be fine!" Harry said, "It'll mean less flying! And your passing and catching is great!"
"But—"
"Mr. Potter, we need a decision."
"You can do it, Neville. We're counting on you."
Neville swallowed, and nodded.
"Alright! Penalty shot to Gryffindor! Back in the air, you lot."
Ron was helped to his feet, and stumbled over to the sidelines, where Madame Pomfrey was waiting. The team got up in the air, and assembled around the Slytherin posts.
"And it looks like he's okay! Ron Weasley walking off the field unaided, and here comes Broderick Johnson, Angelina's little brother. And it seems that Broderick will be covering – Oh? No, my mistake, it seems Longbottom is off to cover the Gryffindor goals! Interesting move from new Captain, Harry Potter...And it's the lovely and talented Katie Bell lining up for the shot...In addition to being a raving beauty, and a fine Chaser, Katie Bell is possessed of a sparkling wit—
"Jordan!" barked Professor McGonagall, "You can write sonnets on your own time!"
"Quite right, Professor. Just a bit of backstory, for the fans, you know. Katie takes the shot - and it's good! Katie Bell blows past the Slythern Keeper, and it's ten nil, with Gryffindor in the lead!"
The crowd roared, and Harry heaved a sigh of relief.
"Keeper Bletchley tosses the Quaffle out to Montague, Montague to Baddock – Come on, Beaters! And Sloper sends the Bludger far too high, little unfocused there...Baddock already nearing the goal – And it's all up to Neville, now!"
There was a collective groan from three-quarters of the students, as Baddock pelted the Quaffle through the right hoop, Neville diving wildly, one hand clutching his broom.
It went downhill from there – Baddock was far too fast, and Neville simply too slow a flier. His passes were excellent, but seeing as he only got to pass the Quaffle after Slytherin had scored, that wasn't much advantage. True to form, Slytherin was giving the Gryffindor Chasers quite a time, Ginny narrowly avoiding a Bludger with a last minute Sloth Grip Roll. Fortunately, Broderick Johnson was proving to be more than a match for Baddock, and he, Katie, and Ginny made for a mean Offense.
"Broderick nearing the Slytherin goals...and...HOLY HIPPOGRIFFS, what was [I]THAT?[/I]"
Harry grinned at the riotous cheering that had broken out in the stands – he didn't need to look to know that Broderick had just tried out his patented move for the first time.
"I've never seen anything [I]like[/I] it!" Lee effused, "And that brings Gryffindor up to fifty, with Slytherin still in the lead at eighty. Loads of fresh talent this year, helluva shot, really!"
"Jordan!"
"Well, it was! Slytherin still in the lead however, and with no sign of the Snitch, it's still anyone's game."
"Find it! Find it!" Harry muttered through his teeth, starting to feel the match slipping away. He soared high above the action, Malfoy circling lower to the pitch looking upwards.
Finally, he saw it – a glimmering golden flicker down at the other end of the pitch.
Leaning forward and putting his Firebolt to the test, Harry shot towards the other end of the pitch, gaining height as the Snitch climbed.
Suddenly, the sun seemed to go behind a cloud. The noise of the crowd grew suddenly muffled, but all of a sudden, Harry began to hear screams.
He shuddered, and felt icy cold inside.
"No," he thought wildly, "It's not possible..."
He was suddenly lifted clean off of his broom, by a bony, scabrous hand. He fumbled for his broom, which slipped out of his cold fingers, and began to glide towards the ground. He began fumbling in his pocket for his wand, but it was too late...
There were four of them, swarming all about him. He could vaguely hear the students screaming below him, saw flashes of white light popping around the stands...
The hooded head of a Dementor appeared in front of him, it's gaping hole of a mouth seeking his...he could smell it's rotting breath...His vision began to fade...The screaming of the students below became one scream, one piercing scream – his mother's.
He was suddenly bathed in white light. He turned his head, and was surprised to see an unearthly white otter, phoenix, what looked like some kind of large cat, and a swan slowly making their way towards him. The Dementor before him let out a horrible screech, and disappeared from view – he was falling...floating.
He landed with a gentle bump on the Quidditch pitch. His vision slowly began to clear, and the sound of his mother's dying screams faded. Suddenly, as though a light switch was turned on, he was acutely aware of the cries of the students around him.
"[I]Expecto Patronum![/I]" cried Ginny from his left. He turned his head to see she, Katie, Broderick, and even Ron, an ice pack strapped to his head, were all aiming their wands skyward, bellowing at the top of their lungs. Up in the stands, he though he could see Hermione commanding her otter to chase down the last of the Dementors. Throughout the stands, there were various flashes of white light. Harry felt the cold drain from his limbs, and his chest filled with hope. He took out his wand.
"The first time I rode a broom," he thought, "Lupin telling me I look like my Dad..."
"Ron and Hermione..."
"[I]EXPECTO PATRONUM![/I]"
A fully formed, silver-white stag erupted from the end of Harry's wand, and tossed his head before cantering upwards to the heavens, chasing the Dementors aside with a sweep of his massive antlers. Harry felt like his heart was going to burst through his chest.
Finally, the very last of the four Dementors fled shrieking into the sky.
Harry watched as his Patronus cantered back to him, reaching out to stroke his nose.
"Hi, Dad."
The stag blinked once, and began to dissipate. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the warmth and light around him. Finally, he opened his eyes. The partly cloudy sun had returned, but it seemed quite dim compared to the brilliant white light that had just bathed the Quidditch pitch.
"All students are to report to their common rooms immediately, escorted by the school prefects," boomed Professor McGonagall's Sonorus-voice, "And are to wait there for further instruction."
"The match," Harry said under his breath, feeling a slight sense of dread. Slytherin had been in the lead...
Harry and Ron made eye contact.
"What about the match?" he asked.
"We'll sort it out later," Ron said nervously, "I've got to go."
Harry shook his head, "We should all help. The D.A. I mean."
Ron nodded, but they were spared having to run up the Gryffindor tower by the appearance of Hermione bursting through the door at its base.
"This way! Hurry!" she called over her shoulder, leading a strand of terrified first and second years across the pitch.
"You lot!" she called to them, "Spread out, keep us covered!"
"Right!" Ron said, "Come on!"
He, Ginny, Broderick, and Katie ran towards the door to the tower, and after another ten or twenty people had gone through, Ginny started trotting alongside them, following the line of students back to the common room.
"Harry," called Hermione, as she passed by, "Are you alright?"
"Fine," he called, "Just get everyone to the common room, I'll follow up behind. Don't forget to count heads!"
Harry watched the long line of students making a mass exodus from the Quidditch stadium, and did a quick scan of the skies...
"It's Voldemort," Harry thought to himself, and he simultaneously felt the thrill and the terror of adrenaline, "It's something to do with him, I know it. But what?"
Harry racked his brains. It was a shoddy plan, really – send Dementors to kill Harry Potter? In full view of the Hogwarts staff and every single member of the D.A.?
"No," Harry thought, shaking his head at the thought as though it were a pesky fly, "He's far to intelligent for that..."
So what was the advantage? What did Voldemort have to gain from such a foolhardy plan? Terror? Yes, it was possible that he'd order the attack just to further terrorize the students, but Voldemort didn't usually make empty threats.
"Maybe," Harry realized suddenly, "This wasn't the real attack at all...maybe this is just like a magic trick...He has us looking in the wrong direction. If this was a diversion, what's he really after?"
"Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, "Are you alright?"
Harry looked up and was surprised to see the Headmaster standing near him, as the last of the students making their way out of the stadium. Professor McGonagall and the other Heads of House had gone, but a few of the teachers were scanning the bleachers, making sure no one had been left behind.
"Fine," Harry said distractedly, "I just—"
"Where is Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked anxiously.
Suddenly Harry realized – The attack on him [I]had[/I] been a decoy – Voldemort wasn't after him...he was after his Secret Keeper.
"He's with the others," Harry said hurriedly, "With the whole class, and the D.A. I'm sure he's—"
Harry felt as though he'd just swallowed a lead weight.
"Neville – where's Neville? I didn't see him when I touched down..."
Dumbledore's face was etched with sudden concern.
"He could be with the others even as we speak," Dumbledore said, "Regardless, we will conduct a search of the stadium immediately. For now, Harry, I want you to return to your common room –"
But Harry pushed past the Headmaster, and began running towards the Gryffindor goal posts. He knew Dumbledore was trying to keep him safe, but he wasn't having it. He was not about to sit idly by and wait. He could not allow yet another of his friends to be put in danger for his sake. He would not sit there in the common room doing nothing, while his friend...
He pushed the thought from his head.
"He was playing Keeper," Harry thought frantically, "If they wanted to question him, they'd have to have gotten him from this area..."
Harry trotted over to the nearby bleachers.
"Neville?!" he hollered. He thought he saw a shadow.
"Harry!"
Harry pushed the Headmaster's call out of his ears, and stepped into the bleachers, his wand outstretched.
"[I]Lumos![/I]"
Neville turned about suddenly, one hand clutching the rafters above him, the other holding his wand out. His face was sweaty and pale in the harsh light of Harry's wand. When he saw Harry, he hesitated, and lowered his wand slightly.
"Neville, are you alright?" Harry asked frantically, "What happened?"
Neville wouldn't speak.
"Harry!" called the Headmaster urgently. From the sound of his voice, he was nearing the bleachers, and Harry though he could hear the footsteps of the other teachers.
Neville looked up at the sound of the Headmaster's voice, his eyes wide with fear.
"I found him, Professor!" Harry called over his shoulder, then turned back to Neville.
But Neville was glaring at Harry, hatred and desperation mingled in his eyes. He pointed his wand at Harry's chest.
"[I]Avada –[/I]"
"Right!" he hollered, to the other side of the lockers, "All set over there? Time for a huddle."
Katie and Ginny trotted out from behind the second row of lockers, and seated themselves on the nearest bench.
"Right," Harry said, trying to psych himself up as much as his teammates, "Slytherin plays dirty, we know that. So be ready for anything, and whatever you do, don't get fouled. With any luck, Madame Hooch will be on the lookout for them, and we'll get plenty of penalty shots."
"Ron, no matter what they do, no matter what they say—"
"I know," Ron said, "I'll behave."
"Chasers, lots of passing today – they can't attack you if they can't keep track of who's got the Quaffle. Remember, Neville, three-dimensions...plenty of up and down, not just side-to-side. Jack, Andrew, keep an eye on Crabbe and Goyle, see who they're targeting. If I know Malfoy," he said, the name sour in his mouth, "He'll have them ganging up on one player at a time, hoping for an injury. Broderick, if that happens, I'll call time, and you get right in there."
"Right!" Broderick said eagerly, "Err, watch your backs out there, though" he added with a wink. The team chuckled.
"Right," Harry said, glancing at the clock on the wall, and stalling for a moment. He racked his brains. He was forgetting something, he knew it. What did Wood say when he wanted to be inspiring?
"Let's do it," Ron said.
The team clapped and cheered, Andrew and Jack whooping loudly.
"Hands in!" Harry said. With a quick, "Go, Go, Gryffindor!" they headed out to the field.
The noise from the crowd was deafening. Harry looked over at the Gryffindor stands, and saw Luna's ridiculous lion hat, roaring away inaudibly under the commotion. He could just make out Hermione jumping and waving, along with several members of the D.A.
Lee Jordan's voice boomed out over the Quidditch pitch.
"And now, the Gryffindor team! Potter, Bell, the Weasleys, Sloper, Kirke, and Longbottom!"
Neville looked awestruck at the sound of his name, and the roar of the crowd.
"How d'y'like that, eh?" Ron said nudging him cheerfully with his elbow.
He seemed torn between happiness and utter terror.
Madame Hooch called the team over with a blast of her whistle. Harry walked over to where she and the Slytherin team were already waiting.
"I want a good, clean match!" she hollered over the din, "Shake hands!"
Harry reached across and took Malfoy's hand, both of them smiling angrily and trying to squeeze the other's fingers off.
"That's enough of that," Madame Hooch said sternly, and they mounted their brooms.
The Snitch and the Bludgers were released, and with a blast of her whistle, the Quaffle was tossed up into the air.
Harry zoomed off the ground, the Snitch still in his sight. He heard the crack of a bat on a Bludger, and instinctly went into his Sloth Grip Roll, hearing it whoosh overhead before he righted himself. In that brief instant, the Snitch had disappeared. He saw Malfoy hanging about a few feet behind him, tailing him, as usual. He gave Potter a snide wave.
"And it's Katie Bell of Gryffindor in possession!" Lee said excitedly, "Bell passing to Ginny Weasley, one of the substitute players from last year... whole family's great Quidditch players – Ohhh! Narrow miss, that, a Bludger from Crabbe. Weasley passing to seventh-year Katie Bell, Bell [I]right[/I] to Longbottom, what a pass! And it's Longbottom...Longbottom still in possession...Ohhhhh! Stolen by newcomer Malcom Baddock, quite a lot of new blood this year...Baddock proving himself to be quite a flier, unfortunately."
"Jordan!" warned Professor McGonagall.
"What? It's a compliment, Professor. Pucey passing to Warrington, Warrington now with the Quaffle...Too bad! A well-timed Bludger from Sloper, but it's wide...Warrington back to Baddock – is that the Snitch?!"
Harry was diving towards the ground, his arm outstretched. Malfoy wrenched his broom about and followed suit. Harry kept his gaze steady, nerves ajangle. Two Bludgers whizzed by him in rapid succession.
"Lay off, you idiots!" Malfoy called from behind him.
Finally, at the last minute, Harry leaned all of his weight backwards, and pulled up. He could hear Malfoy shout as he scraped the ground, and then heard a dull thud.
"An [I]excellent[/I] Wronski Feint from Potter, unseating Slytherin Captain Draco Malfoy, and, a what a save from Keeper Ron Weasley! Ataway, Ron! And Weasley throws the Quaffle in – Ginny Weasley again in posession – What? NO! I don't [I]believe[/I] it!"
Harry heard Madame Hooch's shrill whistle, and turned to see what had happened.
"Keeper Ron Weasley takes a Bludger directly to the head! Absolutely despicable foul, there, from Beater—"
"Jordan!"
"Fine, fine, your regular garden-variety foul from Beater Vincent Crabbe. Is he alright?"
Harry landed with a rush, and stumbled over to where Ron was laying, Katie and Ginny arriving as well.
"Mr. Weasley? Are you alright?" Madame Hooch asked in her brisk, business- like tone.
Ron groaned, and tried to sit up, but he clutched his head, and sank to his elbows. He'd landed on his arm, and his shoulder seemed a bit funny.
"Mm'fine," he slurred, "Lem meonna broom..."
"Are you quite sure?" Madame Hooch repeated.
"Teller, Haaarr...I c'ns...tillplay..." Ron said, trying very hard to focus on Harry.
Madame Hooch turned to Harry, her face doubtful.
"It's your, call, Captain."
Harry froze. He didn't want to take Ron out – but he didn't want him hurt either – and on the other hand, there was the team to think about – could he even play?
Ron was blinking owlishly, and shook his head as though trying to clear his vision.
Harry felt a hand on his arm. He looked over and saw Ginny Weasley standing next to him, her face white.
"Take him out," Harry said, sadly.
Ron scowled, "I c'n..play... I...Ohhh..."
He seemed as though he were going to retch, then clutched his stomach and slumped back to the pitch.
"Just for a short while, Ron," Harry said trying to sound reassuring, "We'll bring you back in."
Neville and Broderick Johnson landed neatly to Harry's right.
"Bloody hell," Broderick said, looking shaken, "Is he alright?"
Harry did some quick thinking. "Johnson - trade with Neville. Neville, you take Keeper."
"What?" Neville said, his eyes round with panic, "But I've never even—"
"It'll be fine!" Harry said, "It'll mean less flying! And your passing and catching is great!"
"But—"
"Mr. Potter, we need a decision."
"You can do it, Neville. We're counting on you."
Neville swallowed, and nodded.
"Alright! Penalty shot to Gryffindor! Back in the air, you lot."
Ron was helped to his feet, and stumbled over to the sidelines, where Madame Pomfrey was waiting. The team got up in the air, and assembled around the Slytherin posts.
"And it looks like he's okay! Ron Weasley walking off the field unaided, and here comes Broderick Johnson, Angelina's little brother. And it seems that Broderick will be covering – Oh? No, my mistake, it seems Longbottom is off to cover the Gryffindor goals! Interesting move from new Captain, Harry Potter...And it's the lovely and talented Katie Bell lining up for the shot...In addition to being a raving beauty, and a fine Chaser, Katie Bell is possessed of a sparkling wit—
"Jordan!" barked Professor McGonagall, "You can write sonnets on your own time!"
"Quite right, Professor. Just a bit of backstory, for the fans, you know. Katie takes the shot - and it's good! Katie Bell blows past the Slythern Keeper, and it's ten nil, with Gryffindor in the lead!"
The crowd roared, and Harry heaved a sigh of relief.
"Keeper Bletchley tosses the Quaffle out to Montague, Montague to Baddock – Come on, Beaters! And Sloper sends the Bludger far too high, little unfocused there...Baddock already nearing the goal – And it's all up to Neville, now!"
There was a collective groan from three-quarters of the students, as Baddock pelted the Quaffle through the right hoop, Neville diving wildly, one hand clutching his broom.
It went downhill from there – Baddock was far too fast, and Neville simply too slow a flier. His passes were excellent, but seeing as he only got to pass the Quaffle after Slytherin had scored, that wasn't much advantage. True to form, Slytherin was giving the Gryffindor Chasers quite a time, Ginny narrowly avoiding a Bludger with a last minute Sloth Grip Roll. Fortunately, Broderick Johnson was proving to be more than a match for Baddock, and he, Katie, and Ginny made for a mean Offense.
"Broderick nearing the Slytherin goals...and...HOLY HIPPOGRIFFS, what was [I]THAT?[/I]"
Harry grinned at the riotous cheering that had broken out in the stands – he didn't need to look to know that Broderick had just tried out his patented move for the first time.
"I've never seen anything [I]like[/I] it!" Lee effused, "And that brings Gryffindor up to fifty, with Slytherin still in the lead at eighty. Loads of fresh talent this year, helluva shot, really!"
"Jordan!"
"Well, it was! Slytherin still in the lead however, and with no sign of the Snitch, it's still anyone's game."
"Find it! Find it!" Harry muttered through his teeth, starting to feel the match slipping away. He soared high above the action, Malfoy circling lower to the pitch looking upwards.
Finally, he saw it – a glimmering golden flicker down at the other end of the pitch.
Leaning forward and putting his Firebolt to the test, Harry shot towards the other end of the pitch, gaining height as the Snitch climbed.
Suddenly, the sun seemed to go behind a cloud. The noise of the crowd grew suddenly muffled, but all of a sudden, Harry began to hear screams.
He shuddered, and felt icy cold inside.
"No," he thought wildly, "It's not possible..."
He was suddenly lifted clean off of his broom, by a bony, scabrous hand. He fumbled for his broom, which slipped out of his cold fingers, and began to glide towards the ground. He began fumbling in his pocket for his wand, but it was too late...
There were four of them, swarming all about him. He could vaguely hear the students screaming below him, saw flashes of white light popping around the stands...
The hooded head of a Dementor appeared in front of him, it's gaping hole of a mouth seeking his...he could smell it's rotting breath...His vision began to fade...The screaming of the students below became one scream, one piercing scream – his mother's.
He was suddenly bathed in white light. He turned his head, and was surprised to see an unearthly white otter, phoenix, what looked like some kind of large cat, and a swan slowly making their way towards him. The Dementor before him let out a horrible screech, and disappeared from view – he was falling...floating.
He landed with a gentle bump on the Quidditch pitch. His vision slowly began to clear, and the sound of his mother's dying screams faded. Suddenly, as though a light switch was turned on, he was acutely aware of the cries of the students around him.
"[I]Expecto Patronum![/I]" cried Ginny from his left. He turned his head to see she, Katie, Broderick, and even Ron, an ice pack strapped to his head, were all aiming their wands skyward, bellowing at the top of their lungs. Up in the stands, he though he could see Hermione commanding her otter to chase down the last of the Dementors. Throughout the stands, there were various flashes of white light. Harry felt the cold drain from his limbs, and his chest filled with hope. He took out his wand.
"The first time I rode a broom," he thought, "Lupin telling me I look like my Dad..."
"Ron and Hermione..."
"[I]EXPECTO PATRONUM![/I]"
A fully formed, silver-white stag erupted from the end of Harry's wand, and tossed his head before cantering upwards to the heavens, chasing the Dementors aside with a sweep of his massive antlers. Harry felt like his heart was going to burst through his chest.
Finally, the very last of the four Dementors fled shrieking into the sky.
Harry watched as his Patronus cantered back to him, reaching out to stroke his nose.
"Hi, Dad."
The stag blinked once, and began to dissipate. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the warmth and light around him. Finally, he opened his eyes. The partly cloudy sun had returned, but it seemed quite dim compared to the brilliant white light that had just bathed the Quidditch pitch.
"All students are to report to their common rooms immediately, escorted by the school prefects," boomed Professor McGonagall's Sonorus-voice, "And are to wait there for further instruction."
"The match," Harry said under his breath, feeling a slight sense of dread. Slytherin had been in the lead...
Harry and Ron made eye contact.
"What about the match?" he asked.
"We'll sort it out later," Ron said nervously, "I've got to go."
Harry shook his head, "We should all help. The D.A. I mean."
Ron nodded, but they were spared having to run up the Gryffindor tower by the appearance of Hermione bursting through the door at its base.
"This way! Hurry!" she called over her shoulder, leading a strand of terrified first and second years across the pitch.
"You lot!" she called to them, "Spread out, keep us covered!"
"Right!" Ron said, "Come on!"
He, Ginny, Broderick, and Katie ran towards the door to the tower, and after another ten or twenty people had gone through, Ginny started trotting alongside them, following the line of students back to the common room.
"Harry," called Hermione, as she passed by, "Are you alright?"
"Fine," he called, "Just get everyone to the common room, I'll follow up behind. Don't forget to count heads!"
Harry watched the long line of students making a mass exodus from the Quidditch stadium, and did a quick scan of the skies...
"It's Voldemort," Harry thought to himself, and he simultaneously felt the thrill and the terror of adrenaline, "It's something to do with him, I know it. But what?"
Harry racked his brains. It was a shoddy plan, really – send Dementors to kill Harry Potter? In full view of the Hogwarts staff and every single member of the D.A.?
"No," Harry thought, shaking his head at the thought as though it were a pesky fly, "He's far to intelligent for that..."
So what was the advantage? What did Voldemort have to gain from such a foolhardy plan? Terror? Yes, it was possible that he'd order the attack just to further terrorize the students, but Voldemort didn't usually make empty threats.
"Maybe," Harry realized suddenly, "This wasn't the real attack at all...maybe this is just like a magic trick...He has us looking in the wrong direction. If this was a diversion, what's he really after?"
"Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, "Are you alright?"
Harry looked up and was surprised to see the Headmaster standing near him, as the last of the students making their way out of the stadium. Professor McGonagall and the other Heads of House had gone, but a few of the teachers were scanning the bleachers, making sure no one had been left behind.
"Fine," Harry said distractedly, "I just—"
"Where is Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked anxiously.
Suddenly Harry realized – The attack on him [I]had[/I] been a decoy – Voldemort wasn't after him...he was after his Secret Keeper.
"He's with the others," Harry said hurriedly, "With the whole class, and the D.A. I'm sure he's—"
Harry felt as though he'd just swallowed a lead weight.
"Neville – where's Neville? I didn't see him when I touched down..."
Dumbledore's face was etched with sudden concern.
"He could be with the others even as we speak," Dumbledore said, "Regardless, we will conduct a search of the stadium immediately. For now, Harry, I want you to return to your common room –"
But Harry pushed past the Headmaster, and began running towards the Gryffindor goal posts. He knew Dumbledore was trying to keep him safe, but he wasn't having it. He was not about to sit idly by and wait. He could not allow yet another of his friends to be put in danger for his sake. He would not sit there in the common room doing nothing, while his friend...
He pushed the thought from his head.
"He was playing Keeper," Harry thought frantically, "If they wanted to question him, they'd have to have gotten him from this area..."
Harry trotted over to the nearby bleachers.
"Neville?!" he hollered. He thought he saw a shadow.
"Harry!"
Harry pushed the Headmaster's call out of his ears, and stepped into the bleachers, his wand outstretched.
"[I]Lumos![/I]"
Neville turned about suddenly, one hand clutching the rafters above him, the other holding his wand out. His face was sweaty and pale in the harsh light of Harry's wand. When he saw Harry, he hesitated, and lowered his wand slightly.
"Neville, are you alright?" Harry asked frantically, "What happened?"
Neville wouldn't speak.
"Harry!" called the Headmaster urgently. From the sound of his voice, he was nearing the bleachers, and Harry though he could hear the footsteps of the other teachers.
Neville looked up at the sound of the Headmaster's voice, his eyes wide with fear.
"I found him, Professor!" Harry called over his shoulder, then turned back to Neville.
But Neville was glaring at Harry, hatred and desperation mingled in his eyes. He pointed his wand at Harry's chest.
"[I]Avada –[/I]"
