Chapter four- England versus Ireland.

'This is it,' said the Keeper, Oliver Wood.

'The one we've all been waiting for,' mimicked Beater George Weasley. 'We know Oliver. You say the same thing every time.'

'Yes, well,' said Oliver gruffly. 'We need to win this game to get into the semi-finals. It's the most important game we've ever played. The World Cup doesn't come every day, you know, it's serious.' His voice was stern, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

'So no pressure, everyone,' Chaser, Angelina Johnson said with a grin.

Everyone was making a good job of concealing their nerves, but Harry knew his team well enough to tell when they were faking. Although Angelina's voice was steady, her fingers quivered and she fumbled with her shoelaces, and George Weasley was quiet. Well, quieter than normal, anyway.

Harry himself couldn't remember being so nervous about Quidditch since his first match in his first year. His stomach was doing the same peculiar things. His nerves were welling up inside of him, threatening to erupt out of his mouth at any moment.

All seven of the England Quidditch team were sitting together in the changing rooms, where they often had their team talks before a match. Today, however, not much talking was being done. A sense of excitement, anxiety and anticipation hung in the air. Harry couldn't breathe; he felt sick.

'Do you think it's time yet?' he stuttered. 'I don't think I can stand anymore of this.'

'The whistle will be going any second.' Said Angelina. 'In fact...'

Right on cue, they heard a shrill blast coming from the pitch. Standing up and adjusting their robes, the team exited the changing rooms and ran onto the pitch.

The noise was deafening. Harry Potter had never seen so many people in one place before, and it wasn't even the finals! A lot of the spectators were supporters of the Irish team, but Harry thought he could make out Ron, Hermionie, Ginny, Lily and Hugo sitting up in the stands. He waved.

Coming towards them from the other side of the pitch were the Irish team. Harry didn't have to know Occlumency to tell that they were all a lot more confident that he was. They walked casually across the pitch, waving and bowing to their fans, with broad grins plastered onto their faces.

'They look so... they're...' said Beater Clement Davies, lost for words. 'It's almost as if they don't feel... threatened. They know that they can beat us easily.'

'Well, we'll just have to prove them wrong then wont we?' Harry said, sounding a lot braver than he really felt.

They were there now; both teams shook hands, Harry's team wincing as the opponent crushed their hands, then they mounted their brooms and were off!

Harry circled around the pitch, high above the other players. He thought it would be best to fly high above the rest of the players until he spotted the Snitch, so he could stay out of trouble. Directly across from him he saw the other team's Seeker, a broad shouldered man with dark dreadlocks, doing the same.

'And Ireland scores the first goal of the day!' The English crowd booed, and the commentator, Lee Jordan barely concealed his own disappointment as he said 'so the Irish are leading. 10 nil to Ireland.'

Harry's heart sunk, but after doing a few loop the loops he felt a lot better. One goal was nothing; they still had plenty of time to catch up.

Ten minutes later into the game, all that had happened was that the cool Autumn breeze that had been so pleasant back at the station had gone, and been replaced with a cold hard gale, and rain. Harry could no longer see the players down below, so he swooped down closer.

A Bludger zoomed out of nowhere, narrowly missing Harry, who steered his Firebolt closer to the goalposts where Oliver Wood was circling.

'Close one, Harry,' he yelled, grinning.

But it was no laughing matter, at that moment, the Bludger turned in mid-air and soared at Harry again. This time it was much closer to it's target, Harry could feel the wind ruffling his hair as it whizzed past.

'Some Beaters they've got!' Oliver said in surprise. 'Good aim, huh?'

But Harry wasn't so sure. Something similar to this had happened in his second year at Hogwarts. A house elf called Dobby had tampered with the Bludger, so that it would try to knock Harry off his broom. He couldn't imagine anyone tampering with a Bludger in the World Cup though, because the consequences would be very serious if you were caught, but the Bludger seemed to have given up on hitting him anyway. Dismissing the thought, Harry turned his thoughts back to the Snitch.

The other team's Seeker was circling dangerously close to Harry, obviously planning on waiting until Harry spotted the Snitch, and then getting there first.

'Ha!' said Harry happily. He knew what to do, and he'd always wanted to try it.

He circled around the pitch for a few times, to make sure that the other Seeker was still following him, then, he dived.

The wind and rain whistled around him as he shot like a bullet towards the ground. He could sense the dread locked man doing the same beside him. He went down, down, down, and then, pulled sharply out of the dive moments before impact. The Irish Seeker was not so lucky. He did not realise what Harry was going to do until it was too late, and slammed onto the grass with a loud thunk. Harry heard a cracking sound that sounded like breaking bones. Wincing, he heard Lee Jordan's voice over the microphone.

'And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a successful, but highly dangerous, Wronski Feint. A cunningly executed ploy to injure the other teams Seeker.'

Harry grinned. A few moments later, the dread locked man flew up to rejoin the game, but he no longer followed him.

Then, Harry saw it. Flitting around the bottom of the goal posts was a tiny golden ball. For the second time that night, he dived. Like a bird of prey, he swooped down onto the little ball and seized it before toppling softly off his broom and onto the ground.

The crowd gasped, and for a moment, was silent. Then, a cheer went up from the English supporters. Harry stood and stared at the little fluttering Snitch in his hands. They had won. They had got into the finals. It was a dream come true.

He held the shining ball high above his head and grinned at the spectators. The rest of his team landed beside him, and he was hoisted high into the air.

The other team were suspended in mid-air with shock. The other Seeker hadn't even bothered to follow Harry when he had dived for the Snitch, obviously he had thought it was another trick. But it wasn't. They had won. They had won!

WHAM! Out of nowhere, the rogue Bludger had soared and hit Harry directly in the head. He yelled out in agony, and toppled off his perch on George Weasleys' shoulders, onto the floor. The crowd gasped as the Bludger flew into the air a bit to pick up speed, then soared back down towards Harry again. But, this time, Oliver Wood intercepted it and pinned it to the ground.

'Y'alright Harry?' He gasped, as he struggled the ball. Someone came running over with the case, and Oliver locked it back up with a sigh of relief.

'Yeah, I think so,' said Harry, struggling for breath. Tenderly, he reached up and touched the place on his head where the ball had hit him. He winced, feeling blood. 'Oww!'

'Yes, it will hurt a bit.' A woman crouched down beside him and examined the wound. 'I'm Gladys, the Healer. Can you walk?'

Her voice was calm and reassuring. With help from George and Oliver, Harry got to his feet and the crowd, who had been craning their necks to see what had happened, sighed in relief. Harry let Gladys lead him off the pitch and over to a small tent.

'You guys go on,' he told George and Oliver. 'Start up the celebrations, I'll be fine.'

Reluctantly, they left and bounded back over to the rest of the team.

'Hmm... this looks nasty,' Gladys said, peering at his injury. 'A lot worse than Barbarouss's was. The other Seeker, I mean,' she added, seeing Harry's confused look. 'That was some dive you did, by the way.'

'Wronski Feint.' Harry muttered, but the Healer was no longer listening.

'Oh my goodness!' She gasped. 'There's blue stuff in it!'

'There's blue stuff in what?' Said Harry, mystified.

'In your cut!' She said in a panicky voice.

'Is that a bad thing?' said Harry uncertainly, although he was pretty sure it was.

'I... I think so...I have no idea what it is! Umm... I think I'd better take you up to St Mungo's, I'm just a Trainee Healer you see, so I'm not quite sure what to...' She trailed off, looking worried.

'Just wait a minute,' said Harry 'What's going-'

Ginny came bursting into the tent, took one look at their shocked, pale faces, and gasped.

'What's wrong?' She squeaked.

Before either of them had time to answer, a man had lifted the flap of the tent and squeezed past her.

'Hey there Gladys, what's taking you so long?' he asked.

'Oh, Dean,' Gladys said. 'I've never been so glad to see you before! This is an emergency! Harry, Dean's the top Healer at St Mungos, just the person we need!'

'Why?' said Ginny. 'What's-'

'-Dean Thomas?' Harry interrupted. 'From-'

'-Hogwarts, yeah.' Said Dean. 'Hey Harry, I've been meaning to write to you for ages. Hi Ginny.'

Harry, Dean and Ginny had all been friends at Hogwarts.

'I didn't know you were a Healer! Have you-'

'-LOOK AT THIS!' Gladys yelled. Everyone went silent.

'Holy, Gladys, what's the problem?' Dean Thomas said, walking over to her and examining Harry's head. 'I don't see what you're-' He stopped, suddenly, and his eyes widened.

'What IS it?' Said Ginny, losing all of her remaining patience. But neither Dean or Gladys seemed capable to answer. They just stood and gawped at the bleeding cut on Harry's head, where, apparently, there was 'blue stuff.'

'There's blue stuff in the cut where the Bludger hit me,' Harry told Ginny. 'Apparently.'

Ginny went over to stand beside Dean and Gladys.

'They're right!' She informed him. 'What is it?'

'Not good,' said Dean, Harry and Gladys in unison.