The Last Dance

Ron reacted with great shame when he learned that he had almost been killed by Blaise Zabini.

"The pretty one," he said, shuddering excessively. "If it had been Selwyn at least, but Zabini..."

"Not funny, Ron," Hermione said.

"Sorry."

- "When will you get out of here?", Harry asked to change the subject.

"Pomfrey thinks it's four days at the earliest," he said sinisterly. "As if I hadn't already wasted enough time here..."

"Well, it's not that you have nothing to do here," Hermione said bluntly, pointing to the considerable stack of transcripts and books she had brought him.

Ron twisted his eyes annoyed. "Yes, it really enhances the quality of the whole stay here, Hermione."

He took a sip of pumpkin juice and made a face as he put the glass back on the table. Harry sighed inwardly. Ron could play the healthy one as much as he wanted, but he was far from being fit again.

"How does Hooper do?" Ron asked innocently.

"Classy," Harry muttered. "Simply great. If you don't get out of here quickly, you're off your place in the team."

After visiting the hospital wing, he headed to Quidditch training, while Hermione met with Ernie and Terry to patrol. Hooper's performance once again brought him to the brink of a screaming crunch, although Peakes and Coote were no longer aiming at the substitute keeper with the bludgers.

"Can't we just put a first-year in front of the goalposts?", Peakes muttered as they moved back to the castle. "Please?"

"Ron will be fit again soon," Harry sighed. "Until then, we have to endure him."

Harry did not believe that Geoffrey Hooper's already scarce self-confidence would survive his ejection as a substitute keeper.

On Saturday, accompanied by Ginny, he went to Hogsmeade to meet Tudgeberry. Hermione stayed at the castle to visit Ron and teach him everything he had missed this week.

"How did you actually get McGonagall to let us go?", Ginny asked as they walked across the castle grounds.

Harry grinned at her. "It was very simple. We're both grown up, so we have every right to leave school at the weekend.'

- "Completely unaccompanied?"

"Of course," Harry said, squeezing her briefly. "It would only bother us..."

Ginny laughed softly. "Is there a chance that we will stay there a little longer after this meeting?"

"Who knows," Harry said with a wink.

Troilus Tudgeberry was waiting for them in a room on the first floor of the Three Broomsticks. He was a tall, serious, bald man with a plethora of wrinkles, wearing a black cape over a white shirt with a checkered tie.

"Mr Potter," the lawyer said as they came in and shook his hand. 'It's an honour for me. And the young lady is surely Miss Weasley?"

Ginny also shook his hand. "You are well informed."

"That's part of the job," Tudgeberry said, pointing invitingly at the seating group in front of the fireplace.

After they had sat down, he drew his wand.

"Just a few protective spells," he said calmly. "So that we can be undisturbed and sure that no one is listening."

He made some swaying with the wand that Harry recognized as a few of the protective spells that Hermione and he had woven around the tent last year, and then put his wand away again.

"Well, Mr Potter... how can I help you?"

Harry rattled. "First of all, I'd like to know if you've read Rita Skeeter's new book."

"Of course," Tudgeberry said, straightening his tie. "The book and every single article she has ever written about you, because your house elf said that it was about the... Lady."

"Good," Harry growled. 'In the muggle world, all this rubbish would be enough to get her for reputational murder, but I don't know if it's the same here. I have no idea of magical law."

"The facts look very similar, Mr Potter," Tudgeberry said calmly. 'And I have no doubt that such a lawsuit would succeed on your part, but I would like to comment briefly on the risks.'

Harry nodded briefly.

"If you want to prove that Ms Skeeter is spreading lies, it is in the nature of things that you have to come out with the truth. Logically, this truth then becomes public, and I could imagine that there are some things that you do not want everyone to know. Take, for example, your childhood with these Dursleys..."

Harry frowned. "I haven't-"

"I don't think you were the one who mistreated, Mr Potter," Tudgeberry said hastily. "No, no, that's obvious. But the question is, are you willing for the public to know what happened to you in your childhood, do you understand?"

Harry nodded slowly and Tudgeberry continued.

"As far as the rest is concerned, the situation is even more complicated, especially as far as your encounters with Him-who must not-be-named go."

- "Voldemort," Harry growled, which made Tudgeberry shrug. "Yes, there are some things that not everyone needs to know."

He knew that Rita had devoted several chapters to the last year, all of which revolved around the question of what he had done, and it would be a disaster if the truth came to light. The last thing he needed was for Selwyn and like-minded people to learn that horcruxes could prolong their own lives.

"So what do you want?", Tudgeberry asked soberly.

Harry clenched his fists and thought of all the lies Rita had spread about him, Dumbledore and Snape. Of Bathilda Bagshot, whose memories she had illegally obtained with Veritaserum.

"Get her," he growled. "But in such a way that everything that happened last year goes unmentioned."

Tudgeberry nodded, obviously not very surprised by Harry's decision. "In that case, it might be worth trying to contact the Minister of Magic," he advised. "Mr Shacklebolt could persuade the Wizengamot to let this trial take place in private because of the sensitive issues."

- "Would this be possible?"

"Of course," Tudgeberry said. 'Article 24, paragraph b of the National-'

- "Well, good," Harry waved off in a hurry. "Um, there's another thing."

Tudgeberry nodded curiously.

"I don't just want to attack them in court," Harry said. "I'm trying to buy both the Daily prophet and her publisher."

"Well, if you have the means, the publisher should not be a problem," the lawyer said after a brief deliberation. "As far as the Prophet is concerned, however, the majority of the shares are mainly in the hands of families who... have different views than you."

"I know," Harry said. "I have already asked Fenwick for a meeting, but Parkinson and Rosier... is there a way for you to buy these shares for me?"

Tudgeberry thoughtfully folded his hands and stared at the floor.

"I would still be obliged to give your name, Mr Potter, but... You're Sirius Black's heir, aren't they?"

Harry started slightly. "How do you know that?"

Tudgeberry showed a hint of a smile. "Because I was the notary with whom Mr Black deposited this will... Well, Parkinson and Rosier wouldn't sell a single share to Harry Potter, but if I said that I'm acting for the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black, and offered a generous price, they'd certainly be less averse."

Harry frowned. "They wouldn't ask for my name?"

Ginny snorted loudly, prompting both men to look at her.

"Harry, for these people, ancestry and titles are everything. The only thing they would ask for would be an invitation to tea."

"They can have it," Harry growled. "But only after they sold to me."

Tudgeberry nodded contentedly. "I will immediately approach Mr Parkinson and Mrs Rosier, Mr Potter. That would be all?"

"Yes, Mr Tudgeberry," Harry said. "Would you mind to leave us alone for a moment, we have other things to talk about. In the castle, the walls have ears."

"Of course, Mr Potter, I have to go back to London anyway," Tudgeberry said, taking his bag and shaking hands with them. "I have booked the room for the whole day, please give Madam Rosmerta the key once you have finished your business."

He gave Harry the room key, wished them a pleasant day and then left.

"An interesting man," Harry remarked.

"Mmh," said Ginny, closing the door with a wink of her wand and looking around the room. "But I don't think the most interesting man who was in the room."

Harry leaned over to her smiling. "The room is booked for the whole day, Miss Weasley."

"Actually, Mr Potter?" she asked. "Well, then we should get to business now..."

On Tuesday morning, Ron was finally allowed to leave the hospital wing, which put all Gryffindors except Geoffrey Hooper in high spirits as the Quidditch Cup final was imminent. Even Harry noted that he thought more often about the upcoming duel with Slytherin than Selwyn, Rita Skeeter, or other problems. No one could remember a game that the whole school had been so eager to see. Although both Harry and (surprisingly) Malfoy did their best to dampen the emotions, Hogwarts was in a complete state of emergency. The last duel between the school's two best seekers, who had been dueling for the Quidditch Cup for seven years, electrified both students and teachers alike, and the events of the last few weeks with the attacks on three of their team's players by a Slytherin once again whipped up the antipathy that the Gryffindors had against their arch-rivals. Added to this was the last school year, in which many Slytherins had found themselves on the other side than the Gryffindors, which made the mood even sharper.

The logical consequence of this atmosphere was that the usual tricks and curses everybody was used to in the run-up to this duel spilled into veritable duels in the corridors, with the players of the opposing team being of course particularly sought-after targets. Harry and his new firebolt remained untroubled, although he wasn't sure if it was because half the house was constantly rallying around him to protect his captain, or because the Slytherins knew better than attacking him. The first player to be hit was the Slytherin hunter Vaisey, to whom Seamus Finnigan presented a creative selection of various curses in the Charms corridor, resulting in Vaisey appearing in the hospital wing with an elephant trunk at the back of his head. Out of revenge, Seamus and Dean were the victims of spitting toilet bowls on the boys' cloister on the first floor. In both cases, there was no punishment because none of the victims wanted to put the retaliation in the hands of a teacher.

In the last days before the game, the players of both teams hardly dared to cross the castle without a strong escort. Nevertheless, both Demelza Robins, who was locked in a broom cupboard for hours until Harry and Ginny were able to locate her thanks to the Marauder's Map to loosen her Full Body Bind, and Tracey Davis, who was turned into a pink rabbit, were victims of attacks.

From a sporting point of view, Harry had no reason to worry, because Ron was back on the high track surprisingly quickly and the rest of the team trained well and full of vigour, because everyone knew that this was going to be a very special game. Malfoy's team was also in good spirits from what the bunch of first-years reported who regularly watched the Slytherin training to make their contribution to the cup victory. Even Richie Coote, who joined them for an evening, had to admit that they were in good form. Coote paid a high price for his daring to move across the grounds only in the company of first-years: the group of Slytherins, who discovered him and the first-years, hit him with a real classic, so that he spit snails for the rest of the evening in the hospital wing. Harry smuggled him back to Gryffindor Tower under the invisibility cloak so that he would not be further tarnished.

The teachers also had difficulties in maintaining their neutrality, although this was evident in different forms: while Hagrid happily wandered through the corridors with his Gryffindor scarf two days before the game and hummed "Weasley is our King," and Professor Slughorn held a party only for the Slytherin team in his office, Dawlish explicitly complimented Ron, Harry and Dean for their performance in Defense against the Dark Arts.

On the morning of the game, Harry suddenly woke up. His pajamas were sweaty, but he felt a light breeze swipe through the room. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table, but they fell to the ground and so he groped blindly on the floor for a while before finding and putting them on. The light breeze came from the fact that the window was open. Ron stood in front of it, leaning on his elbows as it slowly dawned outside. Harry stumbled away his blanket, walked towards him and looked out to the dark castle grounds, across the lake, Hagrid's hut and over to the Quidditch Stadium.

"Weird, isn't it?", Ron said. "After everything we've experienced, I can still be scared of a Quidditch game."

- "There's no reason for that, mate."

Ron snorted. "Says the guy who couldn't sleep for long, too."

Harry shook his head. 'I'm not nervous. Rather a bit sad. This will be our last game."

Ron nodded. "One more reason not to lose. When I think back to this, I don't want to have to think about the fact that we actually lost our last game against Malfoy."

The first rays of sunshine crept over the mountains on the horizon. Both exhaled at the same time and then laughed softly.

"I'd like to have your nerves," said a hoarse voice behind them.

Dean sat on his bed, rings under his eyes.

"Not our first final, mate", Harry said with a shrug.

"Come on, let's eat something."

Dean didn't look like he could get anything down, but got up and threw his glass of water off the bedside table. The clatter woke Seamus and Neville, who fell out of his bed and frantically reached for his wand. Harry and Ron roared with laughter and even Dean managed to smile.

"Nervous, guys?", Seamus asked, grinning broadly at his best friend.

Dean made a rude gesture, picked up his wand and repaired his glasses.

"The last time Qudidditch at Hogwarts," Neville said nostalgically after getting up. "That's how the end begins."

"I wish we had passed the final exams," said Seamus whose grin had vanished.

"Don't pull my players down, Finnigan," Harry said, threatening with his index finger raised for fun, "otherwise I'll let the chasers target the commentator."

"McGonagall would certainly have a word to say to that, Potter," Seamus said. "Don't worry, you'll be very happy with the commentator today."

- "What's that supposed to mean?", Harry asked suspiciously.

"I thought we wanted breakfast," said Dean, who came back from the bathroom and was brushing his teeth.

"Yes, immediately," Ron said, and went to the bathroom, followed by Harry, who turned around at the door.

"Remember Zacharias Smith, Seamus. Don't overdo it, otherwise I'll let Ginny go on you."

Seamus just grinned.

Half an hour later, they went down together for breakfast. As expected, the Slytherin table booed and whistled as they passed by, but the cheers from the Gryffindor table were in no way inferior to this. As he sat down, Harry shot a look over to Malfoy, who looked more pale than usual and stared at his scrambled eggs as if they were trying to murder him in a cruel way. Astoria Greengrass spoke reassuringly to him.

Dean, who seemed to have lost the last bit of courage by the sight of the cheery Gryffindors around him, shook his head only dully when Seamus shoveled sausages on his plate.

"Eat now, 'diot,"" said Ron, who didn't look much better himself, but attacked his breakfast with the usual passion. "If you're not fit right away, I'll kill you."

Dean looked at him tiredly. Neville yawned heartily towards him and set up his Head Boy's badge.

"You know, somehow I'm pretty happy to watch the game from the stands."

- "Shut up, Neville", the others said.

"Good morning, Harry," said Romilda Vane, who had stopped behind him.

"Get lost," said a sharp voice.

Ginny was there, accompanied by Hermione and Demelza. Romilda hurriedly went away.

"I swear to you, at some point I'll curse her," she said to the other two, then shook her head at the sight of the rest of her team members.

"Honestly guys, you look like it's going to be your own funeral."

She bent down to Harry and kissed him.

"Nervous?"

He shook his head. "Don't you want to eat anything?"

- "We've already eaten. We were even already on the field. Ideal conditions."

"You look a lot more relaxed than this bunch here, Ginny," Seamus said.

Ginny picked off a piece of Harry's toast.

"That would be the first time I don't win the Cup, Finnigan."

"Don't be too sure of yourself, Miss Weasley," said Professor Slughorn, who had walked to them unnoticed along with Dawlish.

"Don't worry, Horace, Miss Weasley just gave the facts," his colleague said calmly.

Slughorn smiled. "However, good luck to all of you. But I'm afraid your winning streak will rip today."

He happily waded on to the Slytherin table. Dawlish nodded to Harry shortly. "This Quidditch Cup is doing very well in my office, Potter. I would have to seek a new paperweight if you lose today. So please don't."

- "No 'orries, Pro'essor", Ron said with a full mouth in between and choked down a big bite. "Your letters are completely safe."

Hermione put a hand over her eyes.

Dawlish nodded. "Good luck." He went on with that.

"Ron!", Hermine hissed.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Not now, Hermione," Harry said, as Malfoy and the rest of his team just got up and set off to cheers from the other Slytherins.

"Let's go, folks. We have a final to win."

"I'm not done yet!" said Ron indignantly, but then jumped up in haste when a loud roar sounded behind him.

"Damn..." he said weakly when he realized it was just Luna Lovegood's famous lion hat.

"Good luck, Ronald," she said with a dreamy smile, hugging Ginny briefly and hovering toward the exit.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said, leading his team out of the hall to loud applause. Over at the teacher's table, Hagrid raised both thumbs with a grin, which in other circumstances would have given him a sharp side view from Professor McGonagall, but today the headmistress barely visibly nodded to the Gryffindor team. Harry had to grin.

"Her neutrality doesn't go that far," he whispered to Ginny.

As they crossed the area with rapid steps, Harry looked up briefly. Ginny was right, it was a warm, almost windless day, but the sun was hidden behind large clouds so it would not hinder them.

"Ideal conditions," he confirmed with satisfaction. He looked around for a moment.

Ginny was the calm himself, Demelza looked quite nervous, Ron was still a bit shocked by the abrupt end of his breakfast, but Dean was now quite green on his face. Harry punched him vigorously against the upper arm.

"We'll be fine, mate."

Dean merely nodded.

By the time they reached the locker room, Coote and Peakes had already changed and were nervously knocking against the benches with their sticks. To Ginny's cheerful morning greeting, they only nodded stiffly. Harry went over to the captain's office and changed. Only now did the melancholy give way to the usual mixture of tension and anticipation that he felt before every game. Yes, it was his last game for Gryffindor, probably his last game ever, but he wanted to be cursed if he didn't win it. He waited until he heard the loud tangle of voices from outside indicating that the rest of the school was flocking to the stands, then he took a deep breath and went back to the locker room.

The other players looked as nervous as he felt. Even Ginny now fingered her bright red hair. Ron and Dean looked like they had to dance with a pair of giant toads right in front of the whole school. Harry threw his tactical board, on which he had always shown them the different moves, against the wall and it broke.

"If you haven't understood it yet, it's too late anyway," he said with a shrug, making everyone laugh a little nervously.

"Today we can achieve something that no team has managed in Hogwarts in seven years," he said aloud, drowning out the noise from outside.

"We can play a perfect season. Three wins in three games. We can win this Cup for the fourth time in a row, and no one has done that in almost fifty years. Gryffindor has never done that before. But do you know what is much more important than that?" he asked.

"We can beat Slytherin," Coote said.

Harry slapped his fist in his hand.

"Damn right, we can beat Slytherin. The whole house waits for this day all school year long. You have all experienced what has been going on over the last few weeks - the curses, the duels, the talk. You know how crazy the whole school is about this game. That's the game of the year and we're going to win it. I've never lost to Slytherin. None of us have. And we certainly won't start today. Because we're damn better than them! "

Outside, Madam Hooch blew her whistle loudly.

Harry threw his new firebolt over his shoulder. "So let's go, let's get this cup!"

They walked out, under the deafening cheers of three-quarters of the audience. Harry heard the loud roar of Luna's hat clearly. The Slytherins were already with Madam Hooch, Malfoy stared at him grimly.

"And here come the Gryffindors, the defending champion, the best team Hogwarts has to offer!" cried Seamus Finnigan from the commentator's box, under loud whistles from the Slytherins.

"Weasley, Weasley, Robins, Thomas, Peakes, Coote and Potter, who can only be stopped by dementors and over-motivated keepers..."

Harry looked up to Seamus angrily.

"They face the Slytherins today, who are in second place, where they belong..."

- "FINNIGAN!"

- "Sorry, Professor. So, the Slytherins. Selwyn, Greengrass, Vaisey, Davis, Pritchard, Goyle and Malfoy, the blonde angel who will make second place for the fifth time today."

Malfoy pulled the corners of his mouth slightly upwards.

"Captains, shake hands," Madam Hooch said.

Malfoy and Harry reached out to each other.

"Our last dance, Potter."

- "You have to offer people something."

"At my signal," Madam Hooch said. Normally she asked for a fair game, but given the starting position, she seemed hopeless. "Three, two, one..."

Fifteen brooms soared, Harry's and Malfoy's highest. Harry began to turn his circles and searched for the snitch, while Ginny picked up the quaffle.

"And Ginny Weasley, the undisputedly prettiest hunter of Hogwarts, immediately takes over the quaffle, she dodges a bludger, she turns around Greengrass, she flies towards Bulstrode, Bulstrode dives to the left - GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR! Ten to nothing for Gryffindor, and now Slytherin with the quaffle..."

Ginny made a lap of honour in front of the scarlet-gold curve, while Vaisey picked up the quaffle with a dark face. Harry took a look over to Malfoy, who had to turn on his back to avoid a bludger beaten by Richie Coote. Malfoy paid no attention to the game, but tirelessly drew his circles, his pale face distorted with tension.

"... Vaisey throws to Greengrass, Greengrass dives under Robins, fits back to Vaisey, Vaisey to Davis, Davis right in front of Weasley..."

Seamus moaned as Ron dived to the right, even though Davis had targeted the left ring.

"... Davis hits, ten to ten, and Gryffindor has the quaffle again..."

Below Harry, the Slytherins cheered, Professor Slughorn sat in the front row and clapped so frenetically that his face turned red with effort. And then he saw it: the Golden Snitch swirled right in front of Slughorn's nose. He leaned forward and went into the dive flight, shot like an arrow towards Slughorn, who opened his eyes in horror, the Slytherins next to him threw themselves screaming to the side, now the Snitch veered a bit to the right, Harry looked out of the corners of his eyes to Malfoy, but Malfoy would never make it in time, he took his hand off the broom - at the last moment he heard the hissing of the bludger and tore the broom around, so that it missed him, Malfoy almost crashed into him and dodged at the last moment and then they stared each other, both frantically turned around, but the brief moment had sufficed: the Snitch had disappeared.

Seamus cursed into his microphone.

"Finnigan if you can't control yourself..."

-"Excuse me, Professor. Good bludger there from Pritchard, who prevents an early end of the game. Gryffindor still in possession of the ball, Robins with the quaffle..."

Harry pulled up again and turned his circles, but the Snitch was nowhere to be found.

"Robins to Thomas, Thomas goes - not past Vaisey, Vaisey now in possession of the ball and on the way to the goalposts, come on, Ron! - YES! Weasley saves, Vaisey misses, and Gryffindor again with the quaffle, Ginny Weasley with the quaffle, shakes off Davis, good pass to Robins and Robins now before Bulstrode and she - erm, also misses, Slytherin with the quaffle-"

But the Slytherins also failed to advance to Ron's goalpost. Gradually Harry realized that this was the best Quidditch game he had ever seen at Hogwarts. Both teams were equal, so it would ultimately be Malfoy or he who decided the game.

"Greengrass past Robins, damn, she dodges a bludger well, Greengrass in front of Weasley -"

The Gryffindors cursed, Greengrass had hit.

"Twenty to ten for Slytherin..."

The game under him was breathtaking. The quaffle changed hands so quickly that Seamus almost couldn't keep up with his commenting.

"Weasley - Thomas - now again Vaisey - Greengrass - Vaisey - Weasley - Weasley scores!"

Ginny scored two goals and Vaisey and Davis each scored one, leaving Slytherin in the lead, and Harry still saw no sign of the Snitch. Luckily, Malfoy, who circled above him like a blond, silver-green bird of prey, had the same problem.

"Dean Thomas conquers the quaffle of Davis, Thomas blocks Greengrass, Thomas on the way to Bulstrode, that must be the equalizer, that – WATCH OUT, DEAN!"

Harry ripped his head down. Dean heard Seamus too late, the moment he made the throw, Graham Pritchard's bludger hit him fully against his arm, the quaffle flew harmlessly to Bulstrode, who quickly threw it to Vaisey, while Dean swerved to the ground with his face distorted in pain.

"And now Dean Thomas is going to the ground, he seems to be injured, Gryffindor now outnumbered and with only two chasers left..."

Harry shot down to Dean.

"Can you continue?"

Dean raised his arm and Harry cursed because it was obviously broken.

"Try to find Madam Pomfrey, she can fix that in a minute."

Dean nodded with a leaden face. "Please just catch the Snitch, Harry."

Harry repelled himself and brought himself to Malfoy's height while Greengrass scored. Fifty to thirty for Slytherin.

"Looks bad, eh, Potter?" Malfoy yelled over to him.

Harry ignored him and feverishly continued to search for the Snitch.

"Weasley with the quaffle, on the way to the goalposts, watch out, Ginny!"

Vaisey and Davis tried to grab her, but Ginny braked hard and the Slytherins' two hunters almost rattled into each other.

"HA! Well done! Weasley to Robins, Robins past Greengrass, Demelza Robins - SCORES! GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR, Slytherin leads by only ten points..."

But it didn't stop there. As much as Ginny and Demelza struggled, they were hopelessly inferior to three opponents. Greengrass and Vaisey each scored two goals, and Ginny managed only one, leaving Malfoy's team to make it ninety-fifty.

"Vaisey with the quaffle, Vaisey dodges Weasley - but loses the ball to Robins, good action, Demelza, Demelza Robins with the quaffle, past Davis, past Greengrass, cool move, Demelza! Robins... ahhhh"

Vaisey rammed Demelza hard in front of the Gryffindor stands, the quaffle flew away, while Demelza slammed into the crowd and ripped a couple of first-years off their legs.

Madam Hooch's whistle almost caused Harry eardrums to burst.

"FOUL!" she yelled. "A sneaky foul from the chaser of the Slytherins! Penalty for Gryffindor!"

Neville tried to pull Demelza to her feet in the stands, but she shook her head crying.

"Broken ankle!" Ginny shouted to Harry grimly, then took the quaffle to take the penalty.

Vaisey grinned at Harry, but at the very moment he almost fell off his broomstick because his own captain hit him hard.

"STOP THIS SHIT!" Malfoy yelled with a furiously distorted face. "We're winning this thing here fairly and honestly!"

Vaisey nodded, as stunned as Harry.

"Gryffindor now only with one chaser left, Ginny Weasley with the penalty. Weasley vs. Bulstrode - she scores! Ninety to sixty for Slytherin, Slytherin with the quaffle..."

Now it was a massacre. All the fans of the Slytherins, dressed in green and silver, could be heard in the stadium, while Ginny and Ron were desperately trying to limit the damage. Slytherin scored goal after goal.

"Vaisey takes the Quaffle, Vaisey on the way to Weasley - HA! THAT'S WHAT YOU DESERVE, YOU-!"

- "FINNIGAN!"

Coote's bludger hit Vaisey in the middle of the face, the Slytherins' top scorer fell back from his broom, Goyle and Pritchard were just able to catch him and flew him to the ground.

"Sorry, Professor. Poor Oliver Vaisey is also out of the game, with only three of the chaser still on their brooms, Ginny Weasley with the quaffle..."

But even alone against two, things didn't look much better for Ginny, Greengrass and Davis hit at will, while she managed only two more hits and the air became thinner for Harry.

"Two hundred and twenty to eighty, Slytherin in ball possession, Davis on his way to Weasley..."

They were one hundred and forty points behind, and if Harry wanted to make the victory, it had to happen now. He flew furiously across the field, but the Snitch could not be seen...

"Davis gets out - was that the Snitch?!"

Harry and Malfoy sped towards the golden ball that had flown past Davis' ear at the same moment, but while Harry was already at the right height, Malfoy had to come down from above.

Davis tried to block Harry, but Ginny rammed him out of the way, Pritchard hit a bludger after him, which Harry dodged with a quick slingshot, while the Snitch shot down and now rather into Malfoy's way. Harry lay flat on his broom, from the corners of his eyes he saw Malfoy coming down, the ball was now flying directly above the ground, Harry's knees were touching the turf, Malfoy stretched out his hand - Harry jumped wildly forward from the broom, his left hand struck Malfoys to the side, Malfoy's fingers scraping over the Snitch - then Harry closed his right hand around the ball and they both crashed into the field, turned on their backs and stayed there coughing and moaning, covered in dirt and blades of grass.

For a moment it was dead still in the stadium, then Harry pressed his hand up with the Snitch and the crowd exploded, screaming louder than the spectators at the World Cup. Above him, he saw the other team members shooting down at him. Harry struggled to get up when he was grabbed from behind and hoisted up.

"Good catch, Potter," Malfoy pressed out between his teeth.

Harry nodded and slapped him briefly on the shoulder.

"That was the best game Hogwarts has ever seen," he said hoarsely. "Thank you."

Malfoy nodded narrowly and walked away with quick steps, while Ron grabbed Harry from behind and almost strangled him.

"WE WON, MATE!"

- "GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Seamus yelled hoarsely. "GRYFFINDOR WINS TWO HUNDRED THIRTY TO TWO HUNDRED TWENTY! GRYFFINDOR WINS THE GAME, GRYFFINDOR WINS ALL THREE GAMES, GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP!"

Peakes and Coote clapped him on the shoulders, then he pressed Ginny firmly at himself and kissed her.

"Nice catch, Potter," she exclaimed beaming, then the crowd was approaching and Neville ripped his arm with the Snitch into the air before Harry and the other players were lifted onto their shoulders and carried over to McGonagall, who waited for them with the big, glittering Quidditch Cup.