Chapter 16: Quidditch Round II
Harry woke up as the sunlight streamed through the window of his room. He got up slowly as he rubbed his eyes. His summer had been nice so far, though it was almost halfway done already. Harry's thoughts wandered to his previous state, and compared that to his self now. Things were nice, and he hoped they would stay that way. He would protect what was in front of him with everything he had. And maybe things would get even better.
Harry's eyes lit up as he remembered that Remus had said he would come over today to visit. The reforming of the bond they previously had would take time, but Harry was sure it would happen. They had gotten to know each other some during the course of the year, but there was only so much you could express about yourself in the class room. No, some things had to happen due to his persistence and interference. A grin spread across Harry's face as he already knew how the day would go down.
A couple hours later.
Sirius heard the doorbell ring and went over to answer. It was most likely his good old friend, Remus Lupin. There had been certain issues surrounding their relationship previously, but Sirius was sure that given a little time, things would go back to normal. Hopefully.
"Harry! Remus is here!" called Sirius up the stairs as he made his way to the door. There was no answer, so Sirius assumed he was probably in the bathroom or something. Sirius reached the door and pulled it open. "Hey! Remus! How have you been?"
"Erm fine…" answered Remus uncomfortably. Sirius raised an eyebrow.
"Is something wrong?" asked Sirius.
"Well… no… but your shirt…" answered Remus.
Now Sirius was really confused. He was wearing a plain black shirt. Or was. When he looked down he found that he was dressed quite differently. His shirt was pink, with big yellow text that read, "I Love Werewolves!" and had a picture of Remus' face on it.
"Where did you get that?" asked Remus.
Sirius was confused. Very confused. Until it all snapped together.
"Uh, Remus, I think I just got pranked by Harry…" said Sirius with a grimace.
Remus looked at him a couple seconds and then begin to laugh.
"Yeah, yeah, its not that funny…" said Sirius, slightly annoyed.
Remus continued laughing but managed to struggle out, "He got… you really good… padfoot… you've lost your touch!"
"I have not lost my touch!" exclaimed Sirius as he turned around to march into his house. He didn't get very far as he tripped and fell face first into a cake. Remus continued to roar with laughter as Sirius slowly got back up and wiped his face with his sleeve. Sirius was slightly red in the face as he yelled up the stairs, "Harry James Potter!"
"Harry, Harry, Harry, Potter!" came the harmonious voice of several chocolate frogs positioned on the stairwell. Harry finally appeared at the top of the stairs and bowed a couple times.
"Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week!"
Remus was still roaring with laughter and Sirius looked like he finally resigned. "Why don't you guys take a seat in the living room, I'll be back in a minute after I clean myself up."
And with that, Sirius went to go clean himself off. Remus high fived Harry for a job well done, but in the back of Harry's head, alarm bells were going off. Since when did a Marauder go quietly?
A couple minutes later.
"So, Harry, Remus, how about some lunch?" said Sirius as he reentered the room where Harry and Remus were sitting.
"Sure, what are we having?" asked Harry cautiously.
"I think its time for a feast. I got a couple whole baked chickens in the oven that are done" said Sirius as they made their way to the dining table. Sirius went over to the oven and pulled out three chickens and put one on each of their plates. Harry chuckled nervously. It was a ton of food, but that wasn't the problem. Harry sent a sideways glance at Remus and grinned.
"Hey Remus… Want to trade? I kind of like mine less crispy" asked Harry, knowing Remus' taste. Remus agreed and the two traded plates. Harry spared a glance at Sirius, who grimaced. Harry grinned as he thought he had beat Sirius at the game. He picked up his fork and knife and prepared to dig in, when suddenly the chicken got up on two drumsticks.
"Uh oh…" murmured Harry. He knew where this was going.
The chicken dived at him as a thundering voice came from seemingly inside the chicken shouting, "EAT MOAR BEEF!" Harry found himself tackled to the ground by the chicken's surprising strength. Harry wrestled the monstrosity as Remus turned and high fived Sirius. After a couple minutes, Harry slowly got up, holding a drumstick in one hand. He was covered in liquid fat from head to toe.
Harry looked at Sirius and Remus in the eerie silence. They had stopped laughing. Then all of a sudden, all three started cracking up again.
"You still got it old friend!" said Remus to Sirius.
"Thought being a professor would make you rusty Moony!" replied Sirius.
Harry reveled in the warmth at seeing the marauders together. They laughed and joked throughout the day. Harry went to bed early but he heard Sirius and Remus talking downstairs, recalling fond old memories. Harry had a game tomorrow, and it was important. This game determined if he had a say about how the finals went down. Not to mention that it would allow him to talk to some people in charge about how the event would be arranged. Harry sighed to relieve the pressure as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
The next day, before the game.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to another exciting Quidditch match. This one will decide who has a chance to go down in history as the winner of the Quidditch World Cup! Now, the first team I'm sure you all know now. The rising stars of this cup, the black horse of the race, welcome the Scottish National Team and the youngest seeker to ever play professional Quidditch, Harry Potter!"
The crowd roared as the Scottish team came racing out with Harry in the back, his blue and white robes billowing behind him. Harry smirked as he thought of something. If, for some random chance, he didn't have a fan base from being the infamous Boy Who Lived, he certainly had one now!
"Now Scotland has just come out of an easy match with Peru and they are looking ready to go today. The Chasers definitely look better than did at the beginning of the season, and their going to need the extra know how for todays match. Now introducing their opponents, one of the favorites of this year! Ireland!"
The Irish team came flying out, looking ready to go for action. Harry quickly surveyed his competition. Aidan Lynch was not the best seeker. In fact, he had several major flaws that made him a very mediocre seeker to say the least. Lynch had a hard time pulling out of dives, and often ended up crashing into the ground. That wasn't to say he couldn't catch a snitch, but he most likely had difficulty in maneuvering against another seeker.
No, the real trouble was the chasers Mullet, Troy, and Moran. They had exceptional teamwork and were well versed veterans in the game. Harry had to catch the snitch quickly so as not to risk a repeat of the previous timelines finals.
Soon enough, the balls were in the air and the game was a go.
Mullet was the first to grab the quaffle, as he weaved under two of Harry's teammates and tossed the ball upward. The ball was caught by Troy who carried it forward unperturbed for several seconds before throwing it halfway across the pitch to Moran, he spun his broom around to hit the quaffle with a tail flick into the middle post. The crowd ate it up as the quaffle reset.
Harry turned his attention to his task at hand. It was only going to get worse unless he did something. Harry looked to Lynch and found him also lazily circling the pitch. Harry turned his head to look back in front of him and saw a streak of gold in his peripheral vision. He quickly looked in the general direction and spotted a tiny glint of gold, but it was across the pitch. Harry quickly glanced at Lynch, who hadn't noticed the snitch, but was closer to the snitch than he was. Harry found the snitch again and tracked its movement and noticed it was heading in a downward arc. Harry again turned to Lynch as an idea formed in his head.
He could just simply use Krum's Wronski Feint, but where was the fun in that.
Harry took off full speed towards Lynch, who turned and saw him. Thinking the snitch was somewhere around him or between him and Harry, who quickly looked around, but didn't see the snitch, as it was a bit away. Harry cocked back his hand and made a fist as he raced towards Lynch, whose eyes widened. It was too late for him to move anywhere. Harry smirked as he was very close to Lynch now, moving at high speed. He threw his fist forward and Lynch closed his eyes. Harry stopped his fist and pushed all of his own weight towards the side to do a corkscrew move, blazing passed Lynch like a ghost.
The crowd went crazy as the announcer yelled out, "A perfectly executed Transylvanian tackle by Harry Potter! Its been a while since-" and the announcer rambled on. Harry smirked. That man was about to miss something rather important.
Harry traveled at an arc and was nearing the snitch now. Harry thought everyone else probably finally figured it out as they started cheering. Now closing the final hundred feet or so, Harry's ears perked up. He heard a distinctive whizzing noise. Harry quickly dived down as a bludger when soaring passed where he was only moments ago. Harry had lost significant momentum in the translation of movement and looked up to see the snitch heading towards him and blinding speed.
If Harry took time to think, he would have missed the snitch. His body moved on its own, grabbing the snitch as it tried to fly by. His hand was a blur to everyone else. Harry paused as his head realized what had just happened and a grin spread across his face. He held the snitch high as the crowd went bananas.
"And that's it folks! Scotland will be heading into the finals to play Bulgaria, who just won their match yesterday! I'm sure it will be an epic match, with the highlight being the seeker duel between Bulgaria's Victor Krum, and Scotland's Harry Potter!"
Harry yelled out, pumping his fist in the air. Looking at the final score, the match was very close. It was 180 for Scotland and 160 for Ireland. He guessed the captain was going to flay the chasers alive. And probably the beaters too for almost getting him killed. None the less, today Harry had changed history, and also, although he may not now, he changed a small part of himself also.