Chapter Four:
Quidditch Rivals

The last Quidditch match before the Christmas holidays was coming up fast, and Harry was anxiously preparing for it on top of all the homework he had been buried under for the past few weeks. After Angelina Johnson had graduated last year, Ron had been asked, much to his own surprise and everybody else's, to take over as Captain. It had been possibly the happiest day of Ron's life, or so Harry at least thought. Being a Quidditch fanatic from the time he was still sucking his thumb, as well as the best strategist in chess Harry had ever heard of, Ron had quickly proven himself worthy of leading the team.

Worthy, and stark raving mad, Harry thought in amusement. Ron was quickly developing a reputation of insanity that rivaled Oliver Wood's; he was running the Gryffindor Quidditch team to their limits with practices every night of the week, with only Sundays off, all in preparation for the last game before the holidays.

Harry grinned as he climbed out of bed and stretched. Today was the day of the big match: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. That was the reason Ron had been even more insane; after the incident with Ginny and Malfoy - two incidents, Harry added, scowling - Ron had been more aggressive against Slytherin than he had ever been before.

Harry frowned, pulling on his robes and giving his hair a little shove. He'd long given up on trying to make it lie flat, but he found that if he shoved it every now and then in the right direction, it looked decidedly more windswept than simply unkempt.

By the time he got to the Great Hall, it was already abuzz with activity. Ron was holding an informal pep talk of sorts with the team at the table, with Hermione by his side rolling her eyes with the rest of the Gryffindor table at his maniac-like antics. Harry hid the smile on his face, slipping in on the other side of Hermione.

"Morning, Harry!" Hermione said with great relief in her voice, turning to talk to him.

"Oi! Harry! What took you so long?"

Harry grimaced as he leaned over Hermione to glance at his other best friend. Ron was looking rather...well, crazy. There really was no other way to put it.

"I didn't know there was a meeting, Ron," Harry replied, grinning. Across from him, he saw Ginny shaking her head with amusement at Ron's expression.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Ron continued, completely unaware that the people around him were grinning. 'Where's your sense of dedication?"

"So sorry, Ron," Harry said, his face now completely somber. "I was actually meaning to tell you...well, maybe I should wait until we're in private."

"What's that?"

"No, we should talk about it later."

"We don't have later, Harry. Just spit it out!"

"Well...don't go mental on me now, Ron, but I...I've decided to quit the team."

Silence suddenly grasped the entire table. Ron's eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open.

"W-what?" he stuttered.

"That's right," Harry said coolly, avoiding Hermione's eyes. She looked like she was about to burst. Hastily, he continued, "I just don't feel like I can focus on Quiddtich right now. It's just a sport anyway, and really, with You-Know-Who back, it's not that important anymore. But don't worry though. I've already found you a replacement."

"Wh-who?" Ron looked almost green.

"Well, actually, Neville's been practicing with me for a bit, and I reckon he'll be a fair replacement."

"Wait til you see me, Ron," Neville piped up next to Harry, a sincere look on his face. Harry had to say he was impressed by how nonplussed he appeared.

Ron choked, nearly falling out of his chair.

"Harry...mate..." he whimpered. "You can't do this to me..."

Harry couldn't keep it up any more. His face broke out into a grin. The entire Gryffindor table suddenly roared with laughter. Ginny was giggling so hard she had to wipe tears out of her eyes, and Hermione was holding her stomach with both arms as her shoulders shook. Neville was laughing as hard as the rest of them, and Harry clapped him on the back approvingly for catching on so quickly.

Ron stared dumbfounded at his team and the rest of his house.

"Ron?" Hermione's voice managed to squeak as she tried to hold in her laughter. "Oh stop staring, you great idiot! It was a joke."

Harry watched as a slow grin crept its way onto his friends face. Ron quite suddenly punched Harry playfully in the ribs, his eyes dancing.

"Oi, that's twenty extra laps for you, Potter," he growled good-naturedly. Then, looking sheepish, he added quietly, "Don't do that ever again, Harry. You bloody near frightened me to death!"

"Wicked," Ginny commented, laughing. Her laughter silenced quickly however, when her brother shot her one of his glares, and Harry sensed some unresolved tension between those two. He frowned.

He remembered feeling quite out of the loop last week. From what Hermione had told him, Ginny had apparently fainted in the library, and Malfoy was somehow involved. That alone had driven Ron mad with anger. Ginny had been released from the Infirmary the next day, but she and Ron had apparently gotten into a huge row about it, mainly because Ginny wouldn't tell him what had happened with Malfoy.

Harry scowled at the thought of Malfoy having anything at all to do with Ginny. He felt an aching throb in his chest whenever he thought of that day in The Shrieking Shack, and now whenever he thought of what might have happened in the library. He tried to shrug it off, focusing on Ron and Hermione as they bickered about their Charms homework.

By the time the team was ready and assembled in the locker rooms, Harry had pushed most of the thoughts about Malfoy and Ginny to the back of his mind. He didn't want to speculate anymore; it had driven him insane for the past few hours already. He needed a clear head for the match, and he was determined not to let any thoughts of Malfoy ruin his chances in the game.

"Good luck out there," a voice said behind him.

Harry looked up from putting on his boots to see Ginny standing there, fully dressed already in the deep red and gold uniform. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and her skin seemed so fair compared to the other colors.

"Thanks," he replied, offering a small smile.

She turned to leave, but Harry found himself speaking up before he could stop himself.

"Hey Ginny," he said slowly. "Are you all right?"

"Fine."

"It's just...what with that whole row with Ron..."

"Sibling squabbles, Harry. Nothing to worry about."

"You're not doing anything with Malfoy, are you?"

Ginny looked almost amused. "With Malfoy, Harry?" she repeated, smirking. "Define 'with'."

Harry felt warmth spreading through his face.

"Er...you know."

Ginny let out a laugh, giving Harry a playful shove. "Not in a million years, Harry," she said, making a face. "Honestly, you of all people should know I have better taste than that."

"Well, um..." Harry was trying furiously not to blush any more. Ginny seemed to have realized what she had just said, and she suddenly looked a bit flushed as well.

"Anyway," she said quickly, backing away.

"Yeah...good luck out there."

"Thanks," she replied, and ran off.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Why was he breathing so hard? He sighed, shutting his eyes firmly for a moment so that he could calm down.

"HARRY! Let's go!"

Ron's barking voice snapped him out of his dazed thoughts, and deciding firmly that he'd get to the bottom of this later, Harry quickly grabbed his broom and raced out of the locker room.

Harry ducked as another bludger came whizzing by his ear, his eyes concentrating hard on finding the Snitch.

The game was getting intense. The Slytherin chasers had put in 80 points worth of goals, while Ginny and the Gryffindor team seemed to be faltering at only 40 points. The Snitch had appeared twice already, but both times the seekers had missed their chances due to some heavy work by the beaters on both sides.

Harry moved his broom so that he was hovering over the center of the pitch, high above the game. The sky was a light gray, the sunlight hidden by ominous looking clouds. Nearby, he could see Draco Malfoy close at watch as well, his own eyes searching for the Snitch.

Harry cast his glance below to the stands where the cheering students were all seated. From high up, he could only just make out Hermione, mostly because she was sitting next to Hagrid, who was far more visible.

"Harry, watch yourself!"

Harry had a split second to duck again when another bludger flew by, followed by beater Jack Sloper, who was red in the face as he raced after it. Harry turned to the person who had yelled out the warning, feeling a bit sheepish.

Ginny flew by, shaking her head. "Don't get distracted, Harry," she called out before racing off towards the goalposts on the other end of the field.

"Yes, don't get distracted now, Potter," a sneering voice said after Ginny flew away.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes averted from the Slytherin seeker.

"Be nice, Potter," Malfoy said with a grin, flying directly into Harry's line of sight. "I wouldn't want to have to take any points off Gryffindor now."

Harry rolled his eyes. He had long gotten over his mild jealousy towards Ron for not being chosen as prefect. It seemed so childish to fight over something so little now, he thought to himself, but then again, childish was what Malfoy was best at. That, and being an arrogant git, he added with a small ounce of satisfaction.

Whatever reply he had been planning to spit back at Malfoy was lost as his keen eyes caught a dart of gold at the Slytherin end of the pitch. Without wasting any more time on Malfoy, Harry pushed forward on his broom, the trusty Firebolt whizzing past Malfoy and speeding towards the snitch.

To his annoyance, Harry saw Malfoy out of the corner of his eye in hot pursuit. The two seekers wove in and out of the game, the chorus of cheers and boos from the stands thundering in their ears.

Harry ducked suddenly, barely avoiding another bludger aimed straight at him. The Slytherin beaters were apparently very anxious for their seeker to get to the snitch first. He swerved past them, still heading for the snitch. He was close...thirty feet...twenty...ten...

As his fingers closed around the small golden ball, he turned in time to see Malfoy, who had been right behind him, hit full on in the stomach by a well-aimed bludger as he tried to cut in front of Harry from the side. Harry managed to pull out of the way fast enough, the snitch caught tightly in his fist, but he watched in horror as Malfoy's broom collided with a blur of red and gold. There was a shriek, a loud clap in the air like thunder, and suddenly, his scar burned with an intensity he had not felt in some time. He let out a cry of pain despite himself, one hand clutching at his forehead.

In slow motion, Harry watched the Slytherin seeker fall from his broom, followed by another limp figure in dressed in Gryffindor scarlet. It only took him a second to realize what was happening, and he swore, wrenching his Firebolt downwards in a steep dive, the snitch forgotten. He did not think he had ever flown faster.

He caught her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he fought to hold his broom steady. It didn't work, and with a sick feeling in his stomach, he felt both of them slide off the broom, still a dangerous distance from the ground.

"MOBILIARBUS!"

The voice echoed through the pitch. Harry felt himself stop falling, and instead, hover in midair. He was then guided gently to the ground, and with a soft thump, he landed on his back, a heavy weight on his right arm.

He rolled over, sheer shock chasing away all other emotions. He did not trust himself to look at her, but concern overrode his hesitation.

"Ginny? Ginny, are you all right? Ginny!"

"Harry!" It was Hermione's voice that shrieked out. Harry looked up to see her and Hagrid running over from the stands, accompanied by many other of the onlookers. Ron landed about ten feet away from them, and he was paler than Harry had ever seen him before. He ran towards them, pushing roughly past some curious third years and kneeling next to Hermione, who had already made it over by Harry's side.

"G-Ginny?" Ron breathed, his eyes large with shock. Harry saw Hermione gently patting him on the shoulder, though she too looked in shock.

Ginny was not moving. She lay where she had been gently placed on the ground by Harry's side, the brilliant crimson of her Gryffindor robes battling with the red hues of her hair. She looked...broken.

Harry reached out a tentative hand to her, his fingers brushing against her cheek.

A sudden burst of shear heat hit him hard as his skin grazed hers, and he yelped, snatching his hand back quickly.

"Harry," Ron whispered, looking dumbfounded. "Your scar..."

They were all looking at him now, all of the students and teachers alike, a myriad of expressions on their faces ranging from curiosity to fear to horror. Tentatively, Harry reached a hand upwards, reaching for his forehead.

He felt something sticky. Grimacing in anticipation, he lowered his fingers, and to his own horror, he saw a streak of bright crimson against the pale of his skin.

"Everyne will please return to their dormitories," a quiet but firm voice suddenly spoke. "Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Please take Ms. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Potter to the Hospital wing. I will join you shortly. Everyone else will return to their dormitories."

"But sir! My sister - I can't leave - and Harry -"

"You may see them once they have received medical attention, Mr. Weasley. As prefect for Gryffindor House, I should expect you to set a good example for the rest of the students. Ms. Granger? If you would be so kind?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied dutifully, though Harry noted that there was considerable reluctance in her voice. However, she pulled Ron away (quite forcefully), and the two of them joined the other prefects in guiding the students back to the castle.

"Can you walk, Potter?" McGonagall asked gently. Harry nodded, but then stopped because the motion made his head hurt even more. Professor McGonagall gazed at him dubiously through her spectacles, but she let him be, turning around and levitating the others and floating them towards the castle.

Harry glanced back at Professor Dumbledore, who was eyeing him closely. He winced, trying to block out the pain in his head, but he could not hold it back for long. The headmaster looked deep in thought, but he did not say anything. Instead, he turned around and walked away, towards the Forbidden Forest. Harry thought he saw him wave his wand, but he could not be sure, and then Dumbledore vanished into darkness of the trees.

Still clutching his scar, and wondering what on Earth was going on, Harry followed Professor McGonagall into the castle, his heart beating faster with each step.

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