A/N: Inspired by Deprived by 'The Crimson Lord'

P.S. I don't own Harry Potter.

Have fun!


"Welcome to the first quidditch match of the year folks and probably the last, I still don't understand how they can cancel quidditch. I mean it's Quidditch. Come on-"

"Ahem Mr Jordan, focus on the match if you please"

"Yes of course professor. I know you wouldn't of been in favour of cancelling quidditch, has to be that slimy gi-"

"Mr Jordan!"

"Hah only joking professor or am I," Lee Jordan laughed before noticing the steady increase of the deputy headmistress' frown, "And here are the teams now, for the Gryffindors we have Weasley 1 and Weasley 2. which one is which, you're guess is as good as mine! Then we have the beautiful Johnson, Spinett and Bell combo. I'm still waiting for your reply for the next Hogsmeade visit Katie. Trying to fill in the shoes of Wood we have Weasley 3, will he have as much Wood as Wood we can only ask Sally Smith, though she'd have to get with Weasley to compa-"

"Mr Jordan if you don't stop this nonsense, you will find yourself in the confines of the castle faster than you can say the word snitch." Warned McGonagall.

"Did you see that practise dive by Gryffindor's captain, with skills like that no wonder Potter's being scouted. His opponent for today will be.. ehhh? Who's that guy again?"

"Oh for the love of- that is Jools Henderson."

"Oh yeah! We have the new guy Henderson on the broom, either he's really good or Davies is really desperate," Lee chanced another side glance at McGonagall, " And there's the Ravenclaw captain with Page, Chambers, Bradley, Inglebee and Samuels."

"Alright ladies and gentleman! Glue your buttocks to your seats and get ready for the match, I got a feeling this one is going to be a bloodbath!"


My grip on the Cleansweep tightens as I glide up and away from the match. The feel of the broomstick in between my legs is familiar, yet the lack in speed and acceleration is very much not so.

I shoot a piercing gaze in Thomas Potter's direction, my eyes filled with a concealed bitterness. As our eyes meet, his grin pierces through me, evoking a surge of anger and resentment. It's not just a grin; it's a taunt, a provocation that stirs my deepest insecurities and wounds. In that moment, I perceive his actions as a personal affront, as if every move he makes is a deliberate attempt to undermine and belittle me. The weight of his presence feels like an attack on my very being.

The wood held in my hands splinters.

Calm down you fool

The faint whizz in the air is all the indication I get as a bludger shrieks past where my head must have been, half a second ago.

"We're onto you Jools-y boy!" hollers one of the twins, as they both release maniacal laughter in unison. I can't help the snort that leaves me as I watch the red haired duo scramble towards the Slytherin stands in an effort to catch up with the rogue bludger.

Movement to my left catches my attention as I watch Thomas Potter barrel roll and make a dive straight down. He descends with a sickening determination, his dive a symbol of his unrelenting pursuit of self-gratification.

"Look! Look! It appears Potter's found something, he's plummeting towards the Ravenclaw stands!" The voice of the commentator rings out across the stadium. From my angle, I have no choice but to follow, as the idiot has enough experience to angle his body in such a way that I cannot see what he's chasing, leaving me with two options: one, to call his bluff and risk it backfiring, or two, to follow him until I manage to get a look at what he might be chasing.

I allow the arrogant halfwit to force my hand, again.

With a surge of resentment, I tilt the Cleansweep downward, propelling myself towards him at the maximum speed my broom permits. The wind whips through my hair, matching the fury that courses through my veins. In this moment, I am no longer bound by rules or restraint. The moron before me has unwittingly become the catalyst for my unleashed wrath.

As I close the distance between us, I lock my gaze onto his figure, his arrogant demeanour fuelling the fire within me. The taste of vengeance lingers on my tongue, its bitterness intertwining with the adrenaline pumping through my body.

"Oooooh would you look at that, the Ravenclaw seeker is no slacker either!" the commentator's voice booms through my chest, his excitement palpable. The winds continue interlacing through my hair as we continue to plummet towards our demise, neither of us giving an inch, yet the arrogant fool remains in front of me. Due to this, I can see the slight twitch of his fingers as he prepares to lift up.

"You dare take me for a fool" I mutter as I plummet earthwards, my eyes remain fixated on his retreating figure. With every passing second, my resolve intensifies, the foolish determination to surpass him driving me forward. The world around me blurs, a whirlwind of colours and sensations, as I focus solely on the task at hand. There is no room for doubt or hesitation.

"Potter's done it again! He's just too good, get a bed ready Madame Pomfrey you're about to get another visitor courtesy of Thomas!"

The wooden chips of the broom dig into me, as I contract my core muscles and brace against the broom, flattening along its chipped surface. Involuntarily, a pool of liquid gathers in the corner of my eyes as the sheer force of gravity takes its toll on my eyes. Time feels altogether like its flying past too quickly and yet not passing at all, as I pump energy through my muscles, which scream in protest at the abrupt onslaught of tension in them.

'Now'

I pull and twist with all that my muscles can afford.

The Cleansweep answers my desperate call, its response teetering on the edge of impossibility, struggling to keep pace with the intensity of my will. The bristles kiss the ground in a rebellious answer to gravity courtesy of my resolve as the broom heaves up with all that It can afford.

With the swift twist of my body and a forceful jerk of the broom, I initiate the barrel roll. The world spinning around me in a dizzying blur as gravity momentarily loses its grip on my being. The air whooshes past, a tempest of rushing wind that amplifies the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

In this harrowing moment, I am a mere vessel caught in the crossfire of forces greater than myself. The Cleansweep strains under the strain, its bristles quivering in response to the titanic clash. It is a test of wills, a battle that challenges my very existence. Yet, with every passing second, I push through, defying the forces that seek to dominate me, determined to emerge victorious from this unnatural struggle.

I am both conqueror and conquered as time stands still and the very essence of my existence is challenged, as the opposing forces of Gravity and Resistance vie for supremacy over my body.

The broom executes the barrel roll with barely there precision and in a moment that defies the laws of nature, I surge forward, slicing through the air in parallel to the ground. The resounding boom reverberates through the atmosphere, an explosive declaration of my audacious defiance. The sound waves ripple through the atmosphere, a symphony of power and rebellion that commands attention.

The silence that permeates the stadium is deafening.

"Come on Jools, give'em hell mate!" I hear the shout from the Hufflepuff stands as it pierces the silence with ectraordinary clarity.

"What?! Who the fu-?! Just who is that guy?" the commentator finally manages to find his voice, I observe. The pressure on my body subsides as a cruel imitation of pride ripples through it in its stead. I squash the feeling and extend my body, shooting my hand out in front of me. "No bloody way," the commentator breathes, his disbelief intertwining with the collective gasps of the crowd, creating an electric atmosphere that crackles with awe and wonder.

I look back and smirk at the idiot who has no choice but to shadow. That's right now you follow me. The moron has fallen for my hoax.


The match unfurls in familiar fashion, with my foolish brother, now infused with caution, hesitating to execute any more audacious feints, fearful of my ability to turn the tables. And yet, that insufferable grin plastered on his face endures, relentlessly burrowing deeper beneath my skin than I am willing to admit. He relishes this moment, basking in the thrill, undeterred by my relentless onslaught aimed at toppling him from his lofty perch.

To our credit, the Ravenclaw team has been persistent in our onslaught, taking advantage of the nervous redhead keeper. Despite his wayward talent, the pressure of the big match has gotten the better of him, allowing for a modest lead for my team. Since when was it my team? The thought arises, unbidden, as I lazily dodge yet another bludger aimed at my face.

A faint glimmer of gold catches my attention in my peripheral. I coil my body and corkscrew straight towards the Gryffindor stands, cutting the air with all the finesse of a meat cleaver. As I do so, I catch the green eyes of Lily Potter. The quintessential mother, wrought with nerves, bites her nails as she watches her child entangle with the immutable laws of nature.

Subconsciously, I catalogue the woman I'm hurtling towards, comparing her image to the farce of a mother whom I once yearned for. The years have been kind to her, I note with no small amount of acidity. The minute differences are the small frown lines that seem to permanently trouble her forehead and the dusting of slightly lighter auburn hair amidst her still vibrant scarlet locks.

Unconsciously, the speed of the Cleansweep ramps up as the bitterness brims, teetering on the edge, ready to spill forth, while I absorb the acerbic image. My eyes fixate on the little girl nestled in her lap, blissfully bouncing with childlike awe, oblivious to the bitter trials inherent in her brother's chosen sport or the worry that plagues her mother's visage.

Did you worry the same when you found out about my fate, Lily? Can you grasp the anguish of a son left to wander the labyrinthine corridors of life without a mother's guiding hand? The questions echoes in the inky silence of my mind. The world around me fades into insignificance, a mere backdrop to the intensity of my internal dialogue.

In a fleeting moment of eye contact, bitterness and hate surge through me. The intensity of my gaze carries years of abandonment, while confusion clouds her irises, a glimmer of recognition struggling to break through. The gap between us feels insurmountable, and the bitterness deepens as our eyes lock, emphasising the painful divide between the son she left behind and the woman who can't see him.

Did you sleep soundly while I wandered the alleys at night, desperately seeking respite? Thoughts I had deemed beneath me now unleash their torment. My grip on the broom handle tightens, leaving grooves etched by my fingers in its wake. Yet, in this moment, I do not care. My blood surges with retribution, a symphony pulsating through every fibre, as if yearning to break free from my very essence.

I'll show you. I won't be shackled by the feeble bonds of a buffoonery masquerading as a sham of a family. My thoughts, consumed by a seething bitterness, surge within me, demanding release. The intensity of these emotions has never been fiercer than it is now, and all at once I find myself hurtling deeper into the abyss of loathing, consumed by its relentless grip.

In this descent into the depths of my loathing, I find a perverse solace, a twisted pleasure in embracing the darkness that has taken hold. The shadows within me dance and writhe, mirroring the torment that engulfs my soul. I relish in the knowledge that this consuming bitterness is a weapon, a force that propels me forward, unyielding and unstoppable. The power it affords me is intoxicating, fuelling my wicked thoughts of finally breaking free of this façade.

"MUM!" The arrogant fool's piercing shout jolts me out of the hate-filled bubble I had ensnared myself in. The cacophony of students' shouts and screams infiltrates my senses, breaking through the veil of oblivion. In that instant, I become acutely aware of the impending collision between myself and their esteemed Muggle Studies professor, a collision that threatens to shatter the fragile peace we once knew.

Shit

My gaze darts to the little girl, the innocent spark extinguished from her eyes, replaced by the torrents of fat, ugly tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her face, once radiant with childlike wonder, is now contorted by the visage of unbridled fear. Every fibre of my being recoils in anguish as I realise the consequences of my ignorance and recklessness. She, an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire of my own self-centeredness, is now poised to become collateral damage in this wretched scene.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

I bank hard.

I'm not going to make it, the broom isn't tensile enough to make the turn. My foray into the recesses of my mind has left me wide open to the emotions that I had thought I relinquished. My eyes track the small child again as tendrils of guilt course through me, intertwining with the bitterness that consumed me moments ago. And now that little girl is going to pay the price for my own idiocy.


Thomas let the excitement and furore of the crowd fill his body with the intoxicating thrill of playing quidditch. It had been far too long since he had been challenged to such a level, the best in which Hogwarts had to offer he oftentimes found to be lacking. Yet, here was a newcomer who had not only managed to catch his feint but also turn it against him.

Finally someone who might be able to make me sweat, Thomas thought with no small amount of exhilaration. His voice reverberated with urgency as he bellowed, "Fred, George! Step it up, would ya! You're giving him far too much time to himself!" The redhead duo snapped to attention, offering a swift salute before launching the bludger towards the Ravenclaw seeker. The impact was thunderous, the bludger whirring with a ferocity that matched the sheer force behind the devastating smack.

And yet, Thomas watched with no small amount of exhilaration as Jools perceptibly moved his head, but only slightly. It was just enough for him to skilfully dodge the bludger, ensuring he evaded it completely without any unnecessary movements.

Before the Gryffindor seeker could make anymore plans of action, his Ravenclaw counterpart took off in a burst of speed towards the Gryffindor stands and without a second thought, Thomas beelined behind him.

The rush of wind against Thomas's face intensified as the Firebolt surged through the air. His robes billowed dramatically behind him, adding to the exhilarating spectacle. The sensation of speed mingled with his senses, heightening his focus and sharpening his reflexes. With each passing second, his confidence swelled, fuelling his determination to triumph over his rival.

The Firebolt beneath him sang with as much excitement as he did, as he pushed it even further. The legendary broom delivered on its promise of being the world's fastest broomstick, effortlessly gulping down the distance between him and his adversary in massive mouthfuls.

As Thomas closed in on his opponent, a surge of excitement coursed through his veins. The anticipation of catching the snitch right under Jools' nose ignited a newfound sense of competition within him, a feeling he hadn't experienced to this intensity. The encounter with his Ravenclaw counterpart had awakened a fierce desire to prove himself and showcase his skills on the Quidditch pitch.

As Thomas's excitement grew, so too did his focus. The Firebolt became an extension of his resolve, responding to his every command with impeccable precision. With each passing moment, the distance between him and Jools diminished, intensifying the anticipation of capturing the snitch and claiming victory for Gryffindor, victory for himself.

The years of dedicated practice with his father had instilled in Thomas the instinct to react swiftly to the faint flutter of golden wings. As he banked up on his Firebolt, a confident smirk graced his face, fully expecting to witness Jools's scowl or frown as he surged ahead in the exhilarating race for the Snitch. However, to his surprise, confusion washed over Thomas as he looked down upon the Ravenclaw seeker.

Instead of displaying any reaction to the Snitch's deviation, Jools continued on a straight path, seemingly oblivious to the urgent calls from his teammates. The realisation that Jools hadn't detected the Snitch's movement and remained unaffected by the frantic screams from his fellow Ravenclaws left Thomas puzzled and momentarily stunned.

Almost as an afterthought, Thomas extended his right hand and plucked the pesky Snitch from the air. The moment was tinged with lingering confusion as he observed Jools, continue on his path, seemingly unaware of Thomas's triumphant catch. The realisation of his own victory settled upon Thomas, as the cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands, celebrating their team's success.

"THOMAS CATCHES THE SNITCH! Gryffindor wins! It may have taken longer than expected, but the result was the same. Sorry, Ravens!" Even the booming voice of Lee Jordan across the pitch was not enough to deter the Ravenclaw seeker from his trajectory.

As the jubilant cries of the Gryffindor supporters filled the air, Thomas couldn't help but be perplexed by Jools's continued flight. It was as if the Ravenclaw seeker was in a world of his own, detached from the surrounding chaos and oblivious to the game-changing catch made by Thomas.

Shit, was the thought that struck through his mind as Thomas took note of the path Jools was heading to. His vantage point from above afforded him a much clearer understanding of the eventual collision about to occur. And with the Ravenclaw seeker not appearing to slow down in the slightest, it was going to get messy and without a doubt his little sister was going to have to bear the brunt of it. Shit. Shit. Shit!

With energy born from panic, Thomas upended his Firebolt and set the air ablaze as he shot off towards the idiot who was streaking towards his family. The excitement from earlier having died a sudden death at the hands of a culmination of dread and alarm.

The surge of adrenaline fuelled Thomas's every movement as he gripped the broom tightly, his knuckles turning white. His mind raced with a singular focus, blocking out all distractions except for the imminent danger that threatened his loved ones. The world around him blurred into a frenzy of colours as he hurtled through the sky, the roar of the crowd and the cheers of the spectators faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart.

Time seemed to both stretch and contract, distorted by the intensity of the moment. In a matter of heartbeats, Thomas closed the gap, the distance between them evaporating with each passing second. His mind raced through a flurry of calculations, calculating angles, and anticipating movements.

"MUM!" he screamed in blind fright and finally. Finally, his imbecilic counterpart snapped out of whatever world he was in, awareness flickered in Jools's eyes as he attempted to bank away, but the decrease in velocity was not enough to evade the collision. Thomas knew he had to act decisively. With gritted teeth, he pushed his Firebolt to its limits, leaning into the broom with every ounce of strength he could muster.

Time seemed to slow as he braced himself, preparing to intercept Jools with his own body. The collision was unavoidable, but Thomas refused to let it befall his family.

The impact was a thunderous crash that reverberated through Thomas's entire being. He collided with Jools, their bodies entwined in a chaotic dance of momentum. The force of the collision sent shockwaves through his limbs, but he held firm, his resolve unyielding.


A body collides with mine, knocking me off course of initial trajectory towards the mother and her child, who can do nothing but remain trapped in their own fright.

In a whirlwind of pain and pandemonium, gravity claims its victory, mercilessly pulling me down to meet the unforgiving earth. The impact reverberates through my body, a symphony of agony that drowns out the surrounding chaos. It's a moment of raw vulnerability and helplessness, where pain and disarray intertwine, leaving me breathless and disoriented amidst the chaos of my own making.

If my enemies can see me now.

For a fleeting moment, the world spins in a dizzying haze, overwhelming my senses with the jarring collision. Blurred vision and swaying surroundings merge into a surreal mosaic of shapes and colours. A dissonant symphony reverberates through my ears, a chaotic cacophony of fragmented sounds that further bewilders my senses.

Just as quickly as I find myself on the floor, I feel myself being hoisted to my feet. The world rights itself, and the pounding between my ears subsides to a small staccato. "What the heck are you playing at?!" Hands grip at the lapels of my quidditch jersey, fisting the fabric in tight scrunches.

With practiced ease, I stretch my lips into a self-deprecating smile, masking the storm of emotions raging within me. The words spill effortlessly from my mouth, carefully crafted to deceive and deflect any suspicion. "I'm terribly sorry," I offer, my voice laced with false sincerity, "I got too caught up in the game!"

"Like hell you did!" The words explode from his mouth, laced with anger and accusation. His voice carries the weight of frustration and disbelief, a seething torrent aimed squarely at me. I feel a surge of something dark rise within me, but I quickly mask it with a forced calm.

"How did you not realize where you were going?" he continues, a spray of spittle escapes his lips, landing on my uniform, and I feel a surge of revulsion. The mere thought of his repugnant presence contaminating my person sends a shudder through me. It's as if he exists solely to aggravate me, to test the limits of my composure.

"Thomas Potter, release him this instant!" The day takes a turn for the worse as we are joined by his esteemed mother, who rushes to the scene with a face contorted with indignation. With an iron grip, she pulls him back, saving him from my clutches. Her presence adds fuel to the fire, escalating the tension and drawing more attention to our confrontation.

At this point, a crowd of players and bystanders has formed around us, their curious eyes fixated on the scene playing out before them. I can feel their collective gaze upon me, as if I am the main attraction in this unfolding drama. Whispers and murmurs swirl through the air, adding an electric buzz to the atmosphere, the crowd becomes both the witness and judge of our unfolding confrontation.

"Mum, he almost hurt you and Rosie!" The brat retorts defiantly to his mother, and a small grin plays upon my lips, unable to be concealed. How delightful it is to witness his unyielding stubbornness, defying even his own mother in a reckless display of stupidity.

Upon noticing my grin, he graces me with what I presume is meant to be an intimidating scowl "What are you smiling at, dimwit?!" he questions me, flying towards me only to be held back by his mother.

With a hint of sarcasm in my voice, I respond, "Oh, am I? Well, my sincere apologies for not realising it sooner." I can't resist provoking him further, so I punctuate my words with a playful, cheeky smile. It's a deliberate imitation of the expression he had worn earlier in the match, a mirrored reflection of his own cocky demeanour.

"Mr Henderson, please do not egg him on further!" Lily Potter's green eyes slice across to mine, a warning held in them. I want nothing more than to throw her caution in the wind and show her, show them what a real threat feels like.

"I hardly think its fair that I'm getting accosted over an accident professor, do you?"

"You're correct," she responds, her voice laced with a touch of exasperation. "But let's be honest, you're not exactly helping the situation either." Her raised eyebrow and the unmistakable trace of disappointment etched upon her face only serve to provoke a sense of perverse satisfaction from me at being able to get underneath her skin too.

"I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," I mutter under my breath, ensuring that only the mother and son duo can hear my words. It's a deliberate provocation, aimed at stoking the flames of their already simmering tension. The words hang in the air, a subtle challenge laced with a hint of disdain, daring them to respond, to prove me wrong or validate my assessment

The reaction I get is more than I expected as I spy the bumbling moron reach into his jersey for what is unmistakably his wand.

The burning tip of my own wand is lodged into the crevice of his jugular before his hand can even make contact with his own wand. The air crackles with the searing energy of my intent, thick enough to blanket the whisper filled arena into a fog of silence. In this ethereal stillness, my words pierce the air like shards of ice, their chilling impact resonating throughout the arena. "You may soar higher in the skies, but heed my words," I hiss, each syllable dripping with a deadly resolve. "I will wrench your very soul from your mortal vessel before a single soul dares to stir."

A twisted satisfaction courses through my veins as I observe the involuntary bobbing of Thomas Potter's throat, a clear manifestation of his nervous fright. In this tense moment, the weight of his predicament dawns upon him, his eyes reflecting the realisation of the precarious situation he now finds himself in. The fear that dances within his gaze betrays his vulnerability, a stark contrast to the arrogant façade he had donned earlier.

A surge of dark pleasure engulfs me as I witness the subtle tremor in his stance, the subtle quiver of his lips, and the palpable tension that taints the air around us. It is a moment of reckoning, where the tables have turned, and he is confronted with the unsettling truth that his fate rests solely in my merciless grip. His earlier arrogance wanes, replaced by a gnawing apprehension that gnashes at the edges of his consciousness.

"Detention, Mr Henderson! I will not have any student of this school be threatened in such a manner!" This time around the mother doesn't fail to protect her child.


A/N:

Guess who's back. Back again.

It's been a long time, but I'm back and haven't given up on this. Life has gotten in the way, but I will finish this. As for updates, I'll try to be as regular as possible. For now, please enjoy this chapter. Hopefully, I haven't lost the ability to write during my hiatus. Meanwhile, I'll be trying to correct some of the glaring mistakes in my previous chapters! Take Care :)

Until next time!