You're a protagonist Harry
Chapter 29 – Heroes overcome
…
Throbbing. His arm was throbbing. For that matter, the other one wasn't feeling so great either. The strain of gripping his broom like his life depended on it had taken its toll. He was sore and tired, but, he was still in the air.
He hadn't noticed right away when his broom stopped bucking. Lost in his own little world, fighting the good fight. But the moment he realized his broom wasn't trying to throw him off anymore, his grip failed, arms screaming, shoulders crying.
"Bloody hell!" bloody helling.
The burn, it burned. The pain, it pained. The broom, was clenched, so hard between his butt cheeks he wasn't sure how he was going to get it out.
But it wasn't over. The game still raged all around him, meaning Draco hadn't scored, meaning there was still a chance. They hadn't lost, and they wouldn't.
His arms protested, his hands too, but he gripped the broom as best he could and accelerated back into the game, understanding, there would be no third rebellion of the broom, because if there was, they were all done, hands, arms, and yes, butt cheeks too.
This understanding lent a sense of haste and a much-needed focus to guide him through the pain and exhaustion. The sight of Malfoy ahead of him helped him focus as well. Funny how spite will do that.
"Well look who finally learned to fly his broom," the Slytherin taunted when he saw the Gryffindor on his tail.
Harry gave no reply, no sarcastic barb or witty quip. There wasn't enough left in him to waste on words. Beating the obnoxious ponce would have to be enough.
But the obnoxious ponce was not just going to let him do it.
The 2001 was barely an edge on his 2000, but Draco still had the distinct advantage of not being injured and he went after Harry's injury with malicious determination. It was a stupid tactic. He could have focused on catching the Rune ball and simply beat Harry fairly, but instead he gave ground so he could come alongside and check him.
His limbs screamed at the abuse and pulled hard to the side. Fighting through the agony he righted himself and refocused on the Rune ball just as Draco came in for an encore.
Unfit for anything fancy, he performed a simple dip and rolled under the check, allowing Draco to check right through open space, losing ground quickly as Harry accelerated after his target while Draco was still trying to readjust his flightpath.
The Rune ball was not going to make things easy though. It was rather like the sorting hat in that it possessed an excess of attitude, but unlike the hat, it was mobile and led them both a merry chase. Merry for the Rune ball at least.
It started by buzzing the Hufflepuff section then a downward swoop to inspect the length of the grass. Finding it in need of a good clip it shot for the Ravenclaw section, zipping across big brains and blasting up, up, up, like a runaway rocket.
The two Seekers followed this mad trail, Harry staying just ahead of his nemesis and away from his grabbing hands. That's not to say Draco wasn't trying, both boys were going as fast as their brooms would allow with all the twisting and turning.
Harry, with his adrenaline surging, was proving more daring on his broom than Draco. The pain was still there, but now that he was on the hunt if felt far away. He'd be feeling it later, he knew, but in the moment, it was easy to ignore as the ball came within reach and he made a grab for it.
But the Rune ball was not ready for any more manhandling and chose that very moment to make a sharp turn, efficiently dodging the cursing Seeker.
Making a wide arc he came at the running Rune ball from above, missing again when Draco intercepted him with his own grab for the ball.
Neither got it but Draco took longer to recover from their near collision, letting Harry get ahead again. Unfortunately, as Lee Jordan declared, he was the only one getting ahead.
Gryffindor was down by three goals. The best they could hope for if he put the ball in was a tie. That was not good enough. He needed to get the Rune ball and get back into the game.
The Rune ball had similar thoughts as it headed for the pitch again, diving right between Katie Bell and a pursuing Slytherin who nearly pitched off his broom when the ball, and then Harry, blasted by right in front of him.
The ball went for the ground and Harry, having seen this trick before, adjusted his course to intercept it when it turned. His prediction proved right, and he picked up the ball with minimum struggle.
His injured arm ached, guiding his broom alone, but he ignored it, demanding compliance through gritted teeth. He shot up, cutting off a Slytherin pursuit and pausing just long enough for them to see he had the ball before blowing them a raspberry and zooming away.
"Get him!" Flint barked.
Harry grinned when he saw the Slytherin team after him. Thick as bricks, that's what Wood had called them, and right he was. Even with brooms that were easily equal to his they only kept up with him because he let them.
And he let them long enough for his team to score, at which point they realized what he was doing, and then they got mad. If he put the ball in now Gryffindor would win, and he had the ball.
Flint ordered his other Chasers back into the game while he and Malfoy continued the chase.
The other Chasers must have been the better members of the team because they had managed to score before long, putting them back at tie territory. Gryffindor needed one more score before Harry could end the game, and Katie had the ball.
A sudden burst of inspiration struck him. Familiar. The ball hummed in his hand.
Moving without thinking, he shot toward Katie and her heavy pursuers. His own pursuers following close behind. Without a free hand, he used his head to punch in a long string of ruins.
The ball surged with electric power and Katie saw him just before he was right on top of her.
"Katie… GO!"
Touching her gently with the Rune ball, the Chaser disappeared with a boom like thunder. The shockwave knocked all of them away, Harry and the Slytherins.
Katie reappeared right in front of the Slytherin rings and put the Quaffle through before the Keeper had time to realize what was going on.
"YES!"
It was time. The only problem was, the Slytherin team seemed to understand this as well and every man on the field save the Keeper came at him.
It was a compromising position, and his pain chose that moment to stop being far away and come in close to remind him of his limits.
Fighting his own body as well as the irresistible forces his vision went out of focus. By the time he'd blinked it back Flint was practically on top of him.
The huge Slytherin loomed, then made a hard jerk to the right when someone bounced the Quaffle off his head. A bludger nearly took him off his broom and cleared the way for Harry to escape.
"Take it to the rings!" Katie shouted.
"We got your back!" cried Alicia as she and Angelina dove into the fray.
The Weasley twins said nothing much, just whooped and hollered like a pair of drunken baboons, swatting the bludgers at the packed in Slytherin and clearing the way for his run at the rings.
The Keeper saw him coming and, showing more courage than the house was known for, stared him down as he shot across the pitch.
People would argue later exactly what happened. Harry himself didn't remember the runes he bashed into the ball with his head. What everyone agreed on was, Harry threw the ball, the Keeper intercepted it, and then the ball exploded.
How it managed to unexplode on the backside of the Keeper is what no one could figure out, but it did, and went right through the ring to a roaring cheer that shook the whole stadium.
"Harry Potter has scored the Rune ball. This game is over. Gryffindor WINS!" Lee Jordan cried from the announcer's box, barely heard over the chants of 'Gryffindor' sweeping across every part of the stadium not themed in green.
The sound gripped him, filled him. His teammates surrounded him adding their own screams to the din. They'd won. They'd really won. The thought made him lightheaded, until he realized it was probably his wrist that was informing him, okay, you've had your fun, now suffer.
"Okay, feet on the ground before I pass out," he mumbled, leading his team earthward where the second-string and an ever-growing crowd awaited. "Oh boy." That he didn't need, but as they landed the crowd showed no signs of dispersing and he was forced to endure the seemingly endless congratulations when all he wanted to do was lie down and die.
"What did I ever do to deserve this?"