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Chapter 12: A Few Good Chasers
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up to second place in the house championship.
Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because his mates had been the only ones to bother to walk down to the Quidditch field during practice. Despite this, random people would comment on his flying, and Harry didn't know which was worse – people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.
It was really lucky that Harry now had so many friends. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without other people giving him the answers. Susan had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.
Harry learned that there were seven hundred and thirteen ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that the most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.
That morning, as they were sitting at breakfast, Harry saw Snape limping up to the table. After he was done with breakfast, he left the Great Hall and waited in a nearby brooms cupboard. Snape and filched walked by, talking.
Harry strained to hear what they were saying. "Blasted thing, how are you supposed to keep your eye on all three heads at once?"
Snape and Filch walked up the stairs and around the corner. Harry wondered for a minute what kind of animal could have three heads. Whatever he came up with, it made him laugh.
The morning of the Quidditch match dawned bright and cold. The Great hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.
"You've got to eat some breakfast."
"I don't want anything."
"Just a bit of toast or a spot of tea," wheedled Hermione.
"I'm not hungry."
Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.
"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."
"Seamus is right," Ron agreed. "But if you're not going to eat that sausage, I'd be happy to take it off your hands."
"Thanks guys," Harry replied sarcastically, watching Luna dump half a jar of sugar in her plasma tea.
Time elapse-
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.
Seamus, Dean, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Luna, and Susan were up in the top row. They were holding up a large banner they had made as a surprise. It said Potter for Prime Minister, and Dean, the West Ham fan who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had done a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.
Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).
Wood cleared his throat for silence.
"Okay, men," he said.
"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.
"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."
"The big one," said Fred Weasley.
"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.
"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."
"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."
He glared at them as if to say, "Or else."
"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.
Professor West was refereeing. He stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.
"NOW, I WANT A NICE, ENTERTAINING GAME, ALL OF YOU," he shouted, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that he seemed to be speaking particularly to the beaters on both teams. Harry noted Fred and George's manic grins. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for Prime Minister over the crowd. He felt braver.
"MOUNT YOUR BROOMS, MAGGOTS!"
Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.
Professor West played a few short notes on his plastic whistle.
Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – I'm banging that –"
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry, Professor."
The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Captain Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like a homo pixie up there –"
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry – he's going to sc- no, stopped by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle – that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, Wood's ex-girlfriend, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by the Slytherins – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes – she's really flying – ye gods, she's beautiful – the goal posts are ahead – come on, now, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"
Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.
"Jordan…"
"And Professor West is checking the Slytherin Keeper for injuries. Nothing serious, but hopefully a concussion. Unlikely to be a problem with a skull as thick as his is."
"JORDAN!"
"It was a fairly short fall, let's hope he's all right," Jordan mumbled.
"Budge up there, move along."
"Hagrid!"
Ron and Dean squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.
"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of Binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"
"Nope," said Seamus. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."
"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.
Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.
"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."
When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley, or maybe George, came chasing after it.
"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the – wait a moment – did Chaser Spinnet just lose her pants?"
Indeed she had. As Flint had sped past her, a splinter on his broomstick had caught on her pants and ripped them off. The fact that she was wearing a skirt made this particularly interesting to spectators with binoculars.
Ron snatched the binoculars from Hagrid and, after scanning the sky for a few seconds, shouted, "They're blue and lacey!"
As he began looking for Alicia, Hermione snatched the binoculars from his grip and looked toward Pucey.
She had spotted the same thing as Pucey; the Golden Snitch was flying around his head tauntingly. He gasped and dropped the Quaffle.
Harry saw it, too. In a great rush of excitement he dove downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch – all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were doing as they hung in midair to watch.
Harry was faster than Higgs – he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead – he put on an extra spurt of speed –
WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below – Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom had spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.
"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.
Professor West whispered conspiratorily with Flint, laughed, and passed him a can of spray paint. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"
"Shut up, Dean!" Ron yelled.
"Why? It's not because I'm black, is it?"
"Of course not, you idiot! In Quidditch, getting a red card means you stay in the game!" Ron said, exasperated.
"Then what happens if you get a green card?"
"A green card kicks you out of the game. A blue card is a penalty for the other team."
"What about a yellow card?"
Ron shrugged, "What on Earth would we need a yellow card for?"
Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.
"So – after that b****** Flint –"
"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall in her Scottish accent.
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul, that d******* had the nerve –"
"Jordan, I'm warning you –"
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, hand on her skirt, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts – he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out – and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.
Lee was still commentating.
"Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his bloody nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherins score – oh s***…"
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, and I don't, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom… but only dark magic could do that…."
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then three of the houses gasped. Slytherins were throwing rocks and Dragongouts were sort of slobbering. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.
"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing – unless… Sirius Black!" he exclaimed, turning and running for the stairs.
The others rushed after him, but Hermione stopped them, "Wait!"
She picked up the binoculars and pointed them across the stadium. At Snape. His mouth was moving perpetually.
"Snape's jinxing the broom!" She whispered excitedly.
"So?" Ron asked. "What are you going to bloody do about it?"
"I'm going to stop Snape. Wait here."
Ron watched disinterestedly as Hermione scurried across the field unnoticed. This was because Harry's broom had redoubled its efforts to throw him off, shaking and spinning, jerking from side to side. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored twice unnoticed before Wood could get back to the goal.
"Come on, Hermione," Susan whispered desperately.
"Look, there she is!" Dean exclaimed, pointing.
Dean rushed to the front row to look. Seamus jumped up, knocking Professor Quirrell over in his hurry to join Dean. Professor Quirrell fell over, bumping Neville and making him spill his hot cocoa. As Neville and Professor Quirrell were swarmed by gulls, Hermione fought her way to Snape through excited Slytherins. As she passed Draco, she elbowed him in the back of the head on purpose. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand and whispered, "Fryer Fire Frapparisque!" Bright red flames shot onto the hem of Snape's robes.
It took perhaps ten seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. She scrambled hastily back along the row, elbowing Draco in the head again – Snape would never know what had happened. Draco spun around a second later and grabbed Theodore Nott by the front of his robe. Crabbe and Goyle stood up and each grabbed one of his arms. As the other Slytherins laughed, the three drug Theodore off.
Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back onto his broom. The Slytherins groaned.
"Neville, get out of my way!" Seamus shouted, shoving Neville off him, "Yes, go Harry!"
"The Snitch, the Snitch!" Luna was shouting, pointing at the ground below.
Harry dropped into a dive, streaking toward the ground. Higgs followed him, trying to catch up. He pulled up alongside Harry, then seeing the approaching ground, decided to pull up. He turned and watched as Harry pulled up sharply, clapping a hand to his mouth, gagging. Then he collided with the Gryffindor goalposts and knocked himself out.
Harry dropped to the ground, landing on all fours – coughed – and something gold fell into his hand.
"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference – Harry hadn't broken any of the nine hundred-some rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results – Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of hard butterbeer back in the common room, his teammates and friends all around him.
"That was brilliant!" Wood shouted, clapping him on the back. "You must be the first Seeker to ever try to eat the Snitch!"
"I guess there is one habit I share with my cousin."
They all laughed and Fred and George began telling jokes.
"Higgs is probably seeking Snitches in his dream. We should put one on a string and hang it over his head for when he wakes up."
"I had no idea that Alicia's b—"
"It was Snape," Hermione whispered in Harry's ear.
"—so big. I always thought they were about the size of cricket balls," George finished.
Harry groaned, "Thanks, Hermione. You made me miss—"
"He was the one jinxing your broom. We saw him mouthing a spell and after I set his cloak on fire you stopped jerking around."
"Set Snape's cloak on fire!" Harry giggled, "Brilliant!"
"Harry! He was trying to hurt or maybe kill you!"
"Nothing out of the ordinary there," Harry muttered.
"But Harry—"
"Would you shut up? I'm trying to listen."
Hermione threw up her hands as Harry turned back to listening to Fred and George.
Message from the author: I've decided to let a friend of mine write the next chapter. I've given him the basic idea for the chapter, but the rest is up to him. He's been wanting to join this site for a while, but wants to try out writing a little first. So for now, he's going by the name of Illegal Fireman. In the future, I plan to open one chapter of each of the next 2 parts to other authors. Please don't be too hard on my friend, he doesn't have much writing experience yet. Thanks for reading.
Next time on HPMF:
Harry: Where am I?
Dean: You're not in this chapter.
Ernie: The side characters are taking over the show!
Susan: Help! I'm being attacked by a snowman!
Ernie: Don't worry! I'll save you!