Yeah, the exams were just like practise or mock exams. He did do his
potions, and – as the chasm of life didn't teach how to do potions, just
gave him like a magical boost – he didn't do as well as his other subjects.
I had hoped that people understood he had gained power in the chasm of
life, but oh well. Still, you're gonna hate me even more after this
chapter...
Chapter 31 - Gryffindor vs Slytherin
When Harry awoke the next morning, the first thing he noticed upon looking out of the window was how grim the day looked. Odd for May, he thought, but as he proceeded to dress and make his way down to the common room, his thoughts were soon based solely on the match.
The common room was surprising full for that time in the morning, with all of the Quidditch team up and about except from Ron, who then appeared behind Harry. Harry settled down on the sofa between Ginny and Leanne, who both looked decidedly edgier then usual. Leanne in particular seemed to have lost her composure, whereas Ginny merely clung to Harry in a way that showed her slight fear.
Hermione smiled at him from the opposite armchair. "Hope you're more talkative then these two, I've been bored stiff for the last half an hour."
Harry let out a nervous laugh. "I've done this before," he said, but then his eyes fell on Ginny. "So have you, what are you worried about?"
Ginny let out a small cough. "I don't know," she said, "bad feeling in my gut."
"What about?" Harry asked, but she shook her head and he let it be. A few moments later, he rose to his feet, and called the Gryffindor team to go down and have their breakfast. The other Gryffindors cheered and followed down to the hall.
The Slytherin team members were there already. They all, with the exception of Malfoy who merely narrowed his eyes, gave the Gryffindor team loud booing to welcome them into the hall. The other Gryffindors responded with a rousing chorus of "Weasley is Our King". This had the double effect of making Ron's ears turn red, and also shutting the Slytherins up.
Feeling slightly emboldened, Harry sat down to breakfast. All around him the conversation was of the impending match, but Harry made sure that his team were not phased, and he made sure that they ate a healthy amount. Hermione made several fruitless attempts to talk about the Dementor article, but no one was listening. She said that, like Ginny, she had a bad feeling, but Harry put this down to pre-match nerves. (Since the rivalry with Malfoy in third year had taken a severe up turn, Hermione had been almost as passionate about beating Slytherin as Harry and Ron were).
Twenty minutes before the game began, Harry called the team to him, and they left the hall, (which was now full of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs too), to rapturous applause, which almost drowned out the boos from the Slytherins. He led the Gryffindor team out towards the stadium, and then into the changing rooms, where they changed silently into their scarlet robes. Harry looked outside for a second, before turning to face the team.
"The weather looks perfect for Quidditch," he started, trying to begin on a positive thought, "with little wind and neither too hot nor too cold. Vision should be perfect, ground should be hard for a good kick off..." He was trying to practically repeat everything Wood had ever said that he could remember. "We know we can beat Slytherin, we're better than they are – that cup has our name on it!" With the small murmurs of approval that met this Harry felt emboldened further. "I know we can win this, the whole team is superb, down to the last person. Now, I think they're ready out there, so good luck everyone."
He turned and took a deep, steadying breath, before picking up his Firebolt and emerging into the stadium. It was the Quidditch final. Lee Jordan had not returned to Hogwarts to commentate again, and so there was no commentary for the match. Harry was in a small way thankful for this, as he knew how distracted he could get by Lee's commentary.
He walked across the Stadium, the deafening roars echoing around the stadium, as the Slytherins emerged from the far side. They were, as usual, big and brutish, with the exception of the captain.
Malfoy looked fairly bad. He had spent the entire year to himself, and he had not spoken too nor come near Harry since the incident on the train. Now, he was forced to shake hands with Harry, and Harry felt compelled to say something.
"Are you alright?" he said cautiously, unsure whether his former enemy was an enemy at all. Malfoy's eyes rose rapidly to meet Harry's, and they narrowed momentarily, before he turned and stalked backwards, and mounted his broom wearily.
"On my whistle," Madame Hooch said loudly, "Three, two, one..." she blew her whistle hard, and Harry kicked off, shooting up into the air. He heard the crescendo of noise around him as he started to circle the pitch. He had not seen the Snitch on his first circuit, so he chanced a glance at the game, and at the score board, and he was pleasantly surprised to see Leanne knock a bludger into the Quaffle, which knocked it neatly into Ginny's hands. Ginny neatly put it through the open goal, making the score ten-nil to Gryffindor. Harry turned again to carry on his circuiting.
Malfoy was circling the other way, but from what Harry could see of him, he wasn't looking much. Every time Harry saw him, he was glancing at the Slytherins, or out of the stadium, but Harry was sure he wasn't looking for the Snitch. Harry himself glanced around again. For a brief second he thought he had spotted it, but then he realised it was just the glint of the newly emerged sun on Ron's broomstick.
This circling carried on for a long time, and it was approaching mid day when Gryffindor reach one hundred points. Slytherin had scored a miserly thirty, and Harry knew that if Malfoy didn't buck up and find the Snitch soon, Gryffindor would be the ones to have their names engraved on the house cup. He suddenly felt a burst of passion fill his heart as a realisation struck him forcefully: he could be the one lifting the cup... He could be the one who would stand in front of the cheering crowds, lifting the trophy above his head and yelling hoarsely with joy... He could hand the cup on to Ron, and laugh and be as happy as he'd ever been.... And suddenly he wanted that.
He looked around, with renewed vigour. He circled again, his speed increasing and then he spotted it. He had just turned at the end of the stadium and there, half way between Malfoy, (who was at the far end), and Harry, was the snitch. Harry bent low to his broom, and tore off towards it.
He heard the deafening roar of the crowd as Malfoy also made a half-hearted attempt at getting the Snitch, but just as Harry was thinking of grabbing the Snitch, it dived down. Harry looped in the air and tore straight down after it, much to admiration of some of the nearby spectators. The little speck of gold danced in front of him, weaving around the heads of the spectators, who ducked as it, followed swiftly by Harry, whipped over their heads. It took off again skirting the ground before raising up almost vertically, and Harry raced after it.
"Come on..." he urged his Firebolt, and he rose higher and higher, the stadium became the size of a dog, growling beneath him, as he felt the cool metallic winged Snitch against his now enclosed fist. Gryffindor had won the cup.
Harry dived down, his heart soaring in the other direction and he held the Snitch high over his head, and the crowd burst into screams and shouts of wild joy. The Slytherin team alighted on the ground before stalking off, but the whole Gryffindor team was united together in a huge hug around Harry, all screaming hoarsely. They sank towards the ground and were suddenly engulfed by a heaving mass of supporters who had flooded the pitch, eager to join the celebrations.
After a few minutes of backslapping, hugging and hand shaking, Harry led the Gryffindor team over to a platform that had been erected on the side of the pitch. It seemed to have a strangely golden colour, and it rose several feet above the heads of the nearest people. Harry walked up it to where Dumbledore stood. He was smiling at Harry with something Harry could only describe as pride, and Harry thought he saw a tear in the old mans eye. He held out the cup to Harry, who turned his head quickly to the team. With a small nod from Ron, he took the cup and lifted it into the air.
The crowd's roars of approval echoed around the stadium, but as Harry looked around, he found his eyes riveted through one of the gaps in the stadium which looked down upon Hogsmeade. He felt the cup go limp in his hands and it dropped to the floor with a clatter. The crowd's approval turned to stunned silence as it bounced down the steps before spinning to a halt.
"Harry, what?" Ron whispered urgently to him. Harry raised a shaking hand and pointed through the gap, and the rest of the school and the teachers, who had been looking at him, all turned around. The screams the followed were some of the worst and most foreboding sounds that Harry had ever heard.
Glowing an eerie green colour, hovering just above the tallest buildings of Hogsmeade, it leered at them. The fires of Hogsmeade were burning and Dementors and Giants were running around beneath Voldemort's sign.
The Dark Mark had appeared over Hogsmeade.
Chapter 31 - Gryffindor vs Slytherin
When Harry awoke the next morning, the first thing he noticed upon looking out of the window was how grim the day looked. Odd for May, he thought, but as he proceeded to dress and make his way down to the common room, his thoughts were soon based solely on the match.
The common room was surprising full for that time in the morning, with all of the Quidditch team up and about except from Ron, who then appeared behind Harry. Harry settled down on the sofa between Ginny and Leanne, who both looked decidedly edgier then usual. Leanne in particular seemed to have lost her composure, whereas Ginny merely clung to Harry in a way that showed her slight fear.
Hermione smiled at him from the opposite armchair. "Hope you're more talkative then these two, I've been bored stiff for the last half an hour."
Harry let out a nervous laugh. "I've done this before," he said, but then his eyes fell on Ginny. "So have you, what are you worried about?"
Ginny let out a small cough. "I don't know," she said, "bad feeling in my gut."
"What about?" Harry asked, but she shook her head and he let it be. A few moments later, he rose to his feet, and called the Gryffindor team to go down and have their breakfast. The other Gryffindors cheered and followed down to the hall.
The Slytherin team members were there already. They all, with the exception of Malfoy who merely narrowed his eyes, gave the Gryffindor team loud booing to welcome them into the hall. The other Gryffindors responded with a rousing chorus of "Weasley is Our King". This had the double effect of making Ron's ears turn red, and also shutting the Slytherins up.
Feeling slightly emboldened, Harry sat down to breakfast. All around him the conversation was of the impending match, but Harry made sure that his team were not phased, and he made sure that they ate a healthy amount. Hermione made several fruitless attempts to talk about the Dementor article, but no one was listening. She said that, like Ginny, she had a bad feeling, but Harry put this down to pre-match nerves. (Since the rivalry with Malfoy in third year had taken a severe up turn, Hermione had been almost as passionate about beating Slytherin as Harry and Ron were).
Twenty minutes before the game began, Harry called the team to him, and they left the hall, (which was now full of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs too), to rapturous applause, which almost drowned out the boos from the Slytherins. He led the Gryffindor team out towards the stadium, and then into the changing rooms, where they changed silently into their scarlet robes. Harry looked outside for a second, before turning to face the team.
"The weather looks perfect for Quidditch," he started, trying to begin on a positive thought, "with little wind and neither too hot nor too cold. Vision should be perfect, ground should be hard for a good kick off..." He was trying to practically repeat everything Wood had ever said that he could remember. "We know we can beat Slytherin, we're better than they are – that cup has our name on it!" With the small murmurs of approval that met this Harry felt emboldened further. "I know we can win this, the whole team is superb, down to the last person. Now, I think they're ready out there, so good luck everyone."
He turned and took a deep, steadying breath, before picking up his Firebolt and emerging into the stadium. It was the Quidditch final. Lee Jordan had not returned to Hogwarts to commentate again, and so there was no commentary for the match. Harry was in a small way thankful for this, as he knew how distracted he could get by Lee's commentary.
He walked across the Stadium, the deafening roars echoing around the stadium, as the Slytherins emerged from the far side. They were, as usual, big and brutish, with the exception of the captain.
Malfoy looked fairly bad. He had spent the entire year to himself, and he had not spoken too nor come near Harry since the incident on the train. Now, he was forced to shake hands with Harry, and Harry felt compelled to say something.
"Are you alright?" he said cautiously, unsure whether his former enemy was an enemy at all. Malfoy's eyes rose rapidly to meet Harry's, and they narrowed momentarily, before he turned and stalked backwards, and mounted his broom wearily.
"On my whistle," Madame Hooch said loudly, "Three, two, one..." she blew her whistle hard, and Harry kicked off, shooting up into the air. He heard the crescendo of noise around him as he started to circle the pitch. He had not seen the Snitch on his first circuit, so he chanced a glance at the game, and at the score board, and he was pleasantly surprised to see Leanne knock a bludger into the Quaffle, which knocked it neatly into Ginny's hands. Ginny neatly put it through the open goal, making the score ten-nil to Gryffindor. Harry turned again to carry on his circuiting.
Malfoy was circling the other way, but from what Harry could see of him, he wasn't looking much. Every time Harry saw him, he was glancing at the Slytherins, or out of the stadium, but Harry was sure he wasn't looking for the Snitch. Harry himself glanced around again. For a brief second he thought he had spotted it, but then he realised it was just the glint of the newly emerged sun on Ron's broomstick.
This circling carried on for a long time, and it was approaching mid day when Gryffindor reach one hundred points. Slytherin had scored a miserly thirty, and Harry knew that if Malfoy didn't buck up and find the Snitch soon, Gryffindor would be the ones to have their names engraved on the house cup. He suddenly felt a burst of passion fill his heart as a realisation struck him forcefully: he could be the one lifting the cup... He could be the one who would stand in front of the cheering crowds, lifting the trophy above his head and yelling hoarsely with joy... He could hand the cup on to Ron, and laugh and be as happy as he'd ever been.... And suddenly he wanted that.
He looked around, with renewed vigour. He circled again, his speed increasing and then he spotted it. He had just turned at the end of the stadium and there, half way between Malfoy, (who was at the far end), and Harry, was the snitch. Harry bent low to his broom, and tore off towards it.
He heard the deafening roar of the crowd as Malfoy also made a half-hearted attempt at getting the Snitch, but just as Harry was thinking of grabbing the Snitch, it dived down. Harry looped in the air and tore straight down after it, much to admiration of some of the nearby spectators. The little speck of gold danced in front of him, weaving around the heads of the spectators, who ducked as it, followed swiftly by Harry, whipped over their heads. It took off again skirting the ground before raising up almost vertically, and Harry raced after it.
"Come on..." he urged his Firebolt, and he rose higher and higher, the stadium became the size of a dog, growling beneath him, as he felt the cool metallic winged Snitch against his now enclosed fist. Gryffindor had won the cup.
Harry dived down, his heart soaring in the other direction and he held the Snitch high over his head, and the crowd burst into screams and shouts of wild joy. The Slytherin team alighted on the ground before stalking off, but the whole Gryffindor team was united together in a huge hug around Harry, all screaming hoarsely. They sank towards the ground and were suddenly engulfed by a heaving mass of supporters who had flooded the pitch, eager to join the celebrations.
After a few minutes of backslapping, hugging and hand shaking, Harry led the Gryffindor team over to a platform that had been erected on the side of the pitch. It seemed to have a strangely golden colour, and it rose several feet above the heads of the nearest people. Harry walked up it to where Dumbledore stood. He was smiling at Harry with something Harry could only describe as pride, and Harry thought he saw a tear in the old mans eye. He held out the cup to Harry, who turned his head quickly to the team. With a small nod from Ron, he took the cup and lifted it into the air.
The crowd's roars of approval echoed around the stadium, but as Harry looked around, he found his eyes riveted through one of the gaps in the stadium which looked down upon Hogsmeade. He felt the cup go limp in his hands and it dropped to the floor with a clatter. The crowd's approval turned to stunned silence as it bounced down the steps before spinning to a halt.
"Harry, what?" Ron whispered urgently to him. Harry raised a shaking hand and pointed through the gap, and the rest of the school and the teachers, who had been looking at him, all turned around. The screams the followed were some of the worst and most foreboding sounds that Harry had ever heard.
Glowing an eerie green colour, hovering just above the tallest buildings of Hogsmeade, it leered at them. The fires of Hogsmeade were burning and Dementors and Giants were running around beneath Voldemort's sign.
The Dark Mark had appeared over Hogsmeade.
