Chapter Eight: And They Are Off!
"Aaand they aaare oooff!" cheered the new Quiddich commentator, a fifth year Hufflepuff. He was chosen by McGonagall herself, thinking that as a Hufflepuff he would be neutral, but she was wrong, very wrong. As it appeared later, he was more than a fan of the Gryffindor team, and you can understand where this leads.
The first Quiddich match was taking place in the chilling air of December, but despite this, stands were full without any place for even an apple. How could anybody miss the first and the most exciting match of the year, well not the most exciting, because this mark was for the Finals, but exciting nevertheless. The match of Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
Everybody was interested in the technique of the new Captains, who happened to be the famous Harry Potter and the infamous Draco Malfoy, arch enemies their entire lifetime. It was well understood that today's match would be beyond Quiddich, this would be the fight for life or death, to win or to die in shame.
Draco did all he could to win this game. He trained his team as if there was no tomorrow, practicing with them so many strategies that they couldn't remember all of them. But he still demanded that they knew of all of them by heart, because he had a plan for the game, not very cunning, but still worth the winning. He had new Chasers, but an experienced Keeper. As for the Beaters, Crabbe and Goyle were more than capable of beating brains out of anybody. During the tryouts, he chose the Chasers very carefully, because he knew that if you have agile and nimble Chasers, you have a greater chance of winning. Now there was only him that cost all the trouble. Not minutes or seconds, but milliseconds already cost him his every game's loss. This year he would win, no matter what. If he didn't then he wouldn't kill himself or Potter, but he would be close to it.
Harry, on the other hand, didn't bother all that much about his team. He had Ginny, Colin and a third year Susan Right, who played for the second year already. The Beaters were new, but still they were both fifth years and had enough strength, and with Ron as a Keeper, who could stand against his team? Malfoy. In the very deep parts of his soul Harry admitted that Malfoy was a very skilled and talented Seeker. He was a challenge for him. There were always just milliseconds for him to win, because Malfoy was always on his tail desperate to grab the Snitch first. Harry understood that there was more to Malfoy than the name of the Slytherin team on the Quiddich Cup, it was the question of his pride. The reason he understood that, is because he felt so himself.
"Weasley has the Quaffle; she rounds Hopper, slytherin Chaser and speeds towards slytherin goal posts and...and...and scores!" The entire stadium cheered for the first goal of the season. "Of course she scores, how could you think that that pathetic Keeper could reverse it?"
"Mister Rator, stop this instant!" McGonagall shrieked into the microphone.
"Ok, ok," he said defensively. "Gryffindor is in possession again. On a galaxy speed Weasley is heading towards the goal posts, then suddenly passes to Creevey right before the posts and he scores!" Another wave of cheering was heard. After half an hour Rator announced, "It 50 to zero! Gryffindor leads! Yeah, go guys!" There was another strict glance from McGonagall. Then after another five minutes, "What the hell is happening!" his voice was filled with confusion. "Slytherin is in possession. They maneuver through Gryffindor Chasers passing the Quaffle to each other and bloody Hell they score!" It was a Hell indeed.
That was a little plan of Draco and the key to the scheme was speed and showing his teammates fingers. Of course, it wasn't just any finger or one particular finger, but it was a technique code. He showed a combination of fingers and his team played the respective combination different each time. The idea wasn't that great or wasn't the apogee of the strategies, but it was very fruitful. Slytherins always did something new when they were in possession, and the Gryffindor team couldn't anticipate their next move. It wasn't a tradition or rule, but each team had two or three combinations of movements, so the opponent team could predict their moves after half an hour.
"Holly Gryffindor! Ten goals in thirty minutes! It is the best game played by the slytherins ever! 50-100. Slytherin leads!" Slytherins on the stands erupted with cheering, clapping and whistles.
The game went on, but nothing fascinating happened. Spectators were a little bored already, they wanted bread and show, not players swinging back and forth, tossing the Quaffle to each other and never scoring. It was the star hour of the Keepers, who blocked any intention of the Chasers to score. Draco knew that it wasn't Potter's tactic to wander around like that. Then it hit him: Potter's only hope was the Snitch. The Snitch will be his this time. You are hopeless, Potter.
Then suddenly yelling was heard somewhere in the middle of the pitch, everyone's glances were glued to the source of the noise.
"A dangerous commotion is taking place in the center of the pitch. Virginia Weasley was accidentally, or not accidentally, who knows with those slytherins, hit by a Bludger! She is speeding towards the ground!"
'Common, Weasley, you can do it! You want to live, marry Potter and have dozens of children with him, don't you? Just do it!'
"Is this the game of the century or I am blind! She is rotating like a... a spinning top! Is it another trick to scare the slytherins? Surprisingly they are not at all scared or confused, they are outraged! Maybe they were too high in they sky, somewhere on the seventh heaven because of their great game, but they can't understand anything that happens on our pitchy Earth. Slytherins? In heaven? I have gone mad with this game!" The stadium was laughing their heads off after such a speech. "Ginny landed safely on the ground! Bless Merlin for this! Only her broom was damaged, she is in the game again! Yippee!" Ron looked at the commentator. 'This Rator must have something for Ginny, better check it out and talk to him in a very brotherly mode.'
Now Ginny was already in the sky, she flew ten feet from Draco and when she was in the line of his vision, she just for a moment turned her head and winked at him with a broad grin on her face then shot pass him to her team members. Draco was taken aback a little and blinked to make sure that he wasn't dreaming, but he wasn't. Ok, there wasn't time for thinking; he will ask her on today's potion session, now it is time for looking for the Snitch and...capturing it.
And he looked and searched and scanned the pitch and nothing, he couldn't see it. The game went on.
"Slytherin is in the lead! Dammit. 60 to130," Rator said in a grave voice. The hidden meaning of the phrase was: "It is a game versus Gryffindor. How can they lead? Gryffindor always wins! And that's the rule for slytherins to follow!" Back to the uncovered world:
"Gryffindor is in possession, Right is flying towards the goal posts, throws and sco... the Quaffle is blocked by the Slytherin Keeper," he said with a sigh.
"At last! The Seekers have spotted the Snitch and they are heading straight to the ground on a blur speed!" As I already said, we are an almighty people and we can even penetrate into the blur.
"I'll win this time, Potter!" Draco hissed, seeing only the tiny golden ball ahead of him in only five foot away.
"Oh no you don't, Malfoy!"
"You are winning all your games, why not lose for a change?"
"Reasonable question, but I like the feeling."
"The feeling of the victory and cheering from your teammates or the feeling of crushing your opponent into mud?"
Harry never thought about it like that, but after a second he answered truthfully, "Both, I think."
They were flying neck to neck with outstretched hands just a few feet between them and the Snitch. And then cruel fate decided to participate in the game concentrating in a Bludger which was flying straight at Draco, who of course, saw it and tried to avoid it by passing under it. It was a great risk, but he was a Slytherin Captain, he had to take it. All went well, and he already felt the metal of the Snitch in his palm, but the Bludger that he almost missed, hit the very end of his broom. It didn't do any damage at all, but it moved Draco slightly from the Snitch and milliseconds were lost.
"And Potter grabs the Snitch! Gryffindor wins! 220 – 150!" Rator was doing a funny boogie dance on the stands from happiness. The stands were cheering except the slytherin section of course, who had gloomy expressions on their faces.
Draco was more than mad; he was going to burst form rage. "Damn fate! Damn Bludger! Damn broom! Hm, broom... 'You can pay for my loss!' Then he grabbed his broom and crushed it on his knee with a sound crack. It broke in two halves and fell on the grass. After such a ritual, he stormed off to his dormitory without noticing two eyes of deep chocolate following him with their gaze.