Disclaimer: I don't own HP, only Evan and Iris.

Four chapters in one day! That's a helluvan update, huh? Of course, this one is the Quidditch Cup final, and it's pretty hard to rewrite it, so extra credit to JK for her help with this chapter. I'm trying to finish POA before the end of the week, and post the start of GOF on Monday or Tuesday, so look forward to more updates tomorrow!

Read, enjoy and review!

Posted 8-2-2024

Chapter Eleven

The Quidditch Cup Final

After Pettigrew's break in, security measures tightened up to the point that Lady Potter placed a tracking charm on Evan before making him use his Invisibility Cloak to get around, in case Pettigrew was watching him. The Auror contingent was doubled, meaning members of the Black Team could be seen constantly guarding the corridors, particularly when Evan was heading from one class to the next. Evan was clearly suffocating, and on the verge of just running off, tracking charms be damned, so Aludra pulled out an old trick that was very effective on her father and uncle and started pretending to cry, claiming he was going to get killed if he didn't go along with it, until he hastily agreed that he'd cooperate with the restrictions to 'calm her down'.

Meanwhile, Quidditch practice was increased to every day, something Aludra accepted for this once only, as it was Oliver's last chance at the Cup and she knew he wasn't likely to be signed on as a professional without leading the team to victory. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Ostara holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Wood constantly reminded his team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Aludra, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

"So you must catch it only if we're more than fifty points up," Wood told Aludra constantly. "Only if we're more than fifty points up, Ally, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, haven't you? You must catch the Snitch only if we're—"

"More than fifty points up, I know Oliver!" Aludra exclaimed eventually. She'd heard him say it so much she dreamt about him saying it.

The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since Charlie Weasley had been Seeker. But Aludra doubted whether any of them, even Oliver, wanted to win as much as Evan did. The enmity between him and Malfoy was at its highest point ever. On several occasions, wands were drawn in the corridors, and only Aludra's intervention had kept it from escalating.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with some sort of goop sprouting out of their ears.

Finally, the day of the match arrived.

The Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. Aludra felt a bit bad for Slytherin when she saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding them too. It was only a handful of blood purists who were particularly vocal who were a problem, after all. The majority of them were tolerable, at least. That sympathy disappeared when the Slytherin table hissed loudly as the team passed their table, save for those who knew better than to annoy the Black Heiress. Aludra felt a bit of satisfaction mix in with her nerves when she noticed that Malfoy looked even paler than usual.

Oliver spent the whole of breakfast urging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried them off to the field before anyone else had finished, so they could get an idea of the conditions. As they left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.

"Good luck, Evan!" called Cho. Aludra bit her cheek to keep from rolling her eyes in an unladylike fashion when she saw her friend blush in response.

"Okay—no wind to speak of—sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for it—ground's fairly hard, good, that'll give us a fast kick-off—"

Oliver paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, they saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilling onto the lawn.

"Locker rooms," Oliver ordered tersely.

None of them spoke as they changed into their scarlet robes. Aludra suspected she wasn't the only one who regretted eating breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Oliver was saying, "Okay, it's time, let's go—"

They walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three-quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP!" Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. "Black, Bell, Johnson, Potter, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—"

Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of "boos" from the Slytherin end.

"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill—"

More boos from the Slytherin crowd. Aludra, however, thought Lee had a point. Malfoy was easily the smallest person on the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous.

"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch.

Flint and Oliver approached each other and grasped each other's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers.

"Mount your brooms!" said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air. Aludra was grateful for the intricate braided crown Aunt Alice had shown her when she first learned to fly, otherwise her hair would be flying all over the place; her nerves left her in the thrill of the flight; she glanced around, saw Malfoy on her tail, and sped off in search of the Snitch.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Evan Potter of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Evan! Argh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by—Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina—nice swerve around Montague—duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger!—SHE SCORES! TEN—ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight—

"OUCH!"

Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.

"Sorry!" said Flint as the crowd below booed. "Sorry, didn't see her!"

A moment later, Fred chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

"That will do!" shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between them. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"

"Come off it, Miss!" howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Evan flew forward to take the penalty.

"Come on, Evan!" yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! HE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY—ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Aludra turned the Firebolt sharply to watch Flint, still bleeding freely, fly forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Oliver was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched in determination to save the goal.

"'Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!" Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "Superb! Very difficult to pass—very difficult indeed—YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

Relieved, Aludra zoomed away, gazing around for the Snitch, but still making sure she caught every word of Lee's commentary. It was essential that she hold Malfoy off the Snitch until Gryffindor was more than fifty points up—

"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession—no!—Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field—THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Katie cartwheeled in the air, managing to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.

Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. A minute later, Katie had put another penalty past the Slytherin Seeker.

"THIRTY—ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—"

"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way—!"

"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

Aludra felt a huge jolt of excitement. She had seen the Snitch—it was shimmering at the foot of one of the Gryffindor goal posts—but she mustn't catch it just yet—and if Malfoy saw it—

Faking a look of sudden concentration, Aludra pulled her Firebolt around and sped off toward the Slytherin end—it worked. Malfoy went haring after her, clearly thinking Aludra had seen the Snitch there…

WHOOSH.

One of the Bludgers came streaking past Aludra's right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again—

WHOOSH.

The second Bludger grazed her elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing in.

Aludra had a fleeting glimpse of Bole and Derrick zooming toward her, clubs raised—

She turned the Firebolt upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle—Flint alongside her—poke him in the eye, Angelina!—it was a joke, Professor, it was just a joke—oh no—Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save—!"

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Grandma tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession—"

It was turning into the dirtiest game Aludra had ever played in (though the worst she'd ever watched was the Falmouth Falcons versus the Kenmare Kestrels back in '86. Twenty-seven fouls between the two teams in a two-hour game, and only three players left to the Kestrels and four to the Falcons (including reserves) by the time it was over. The Falcons had won, but the Kestrels had contested the result. It was still in litigation as far as Aludra knew.). Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Angelina with his club and tried to say he'd thought she was a Bludger. George elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Oliver pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

The Snitch had disappeared again. Malfoy was still keeping close to Aludra as she soared over the match, looking around for it—two more goals and it would be safe for her to catch the Snitch—

Katie scored. Fifty-ten. Fred and George were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred's and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Oliver; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded.

Madam Hooch was beside herself.

"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. "Gryffindor penalty!"

And Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Evan seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal—seventy-ten.

The Gryffindor crowd below was screaming itself hoarse—Gryffindor was sixty points in the lead, and if Aludra caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. Aludra could almost feel hundreds of eyes following her as she soared around the field, high above the rest of the game, with Malfoy speeding along behind her.

And then she saw it. The Snitch was sparkling twenty feet above her.

Aludra put on a huge burst of speed; the wind was roaring in her ears; she stretched out her hand, but suddenly, the Firebolt was slowing down—

Horrified, she looked around. Malfoy had thrown himself forward, grabbed hold of the Firebolt's tail, and was pulling it back.

"You—" Aludra bit back a curse automatically. She was angry enough to hit Malfoy, but couldn't reach—Malfoy was panting with the effort of holding onto the Firebolt, but his eyes were sparkling maliciously. He had achieved what he'd wanted to do—the Snitch had disappeared again.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics!" Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Grandma's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B—"

Grandma didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy's direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously. Aludra's father was yelling threats of disownment at Malfoy and was being restrained by Remus and Emma, who looked like they wanted to hex Malfoy too.

Evan took Gryffindor's penalty, but he was so angry that he missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Aludra, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal—Montague scores—" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor…"

Aludra was now marking Malfoy so closely their knees kept hitting each other. She wasn't going to let Malfoy anywhere near the Snitch…she didn't usually like these tactics, but the Slytherins would win over her dead body...

"Come off it, Black!" Malfoy yelled in frustration as he tried to turn and found Aludra blocking him a second time.

"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!"

Aludra looked around. Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward Angelina, including the Slytherin Keeper—they were all going to block her—

Aludra wheeled the Firebolt around, bent so low she was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a hex, she shot toward the Slytherins.

"AAAAAAARRRGH!"

They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed toward them; Angelina's way was clear.

"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty points to twenty!"

Aludra, who had almost pelted headlong into the stands, skidded to a halt in midair, reversed, and zoomed back into the middle of the field.

And then she saw something to make her heart stand still. Malfoy was diving, a look of triumph on his face—there, a few feet above the grass below, was a tiny, golden glimmer—

Aludra urged the Firebolt downward, but Malfoy was miles ahead—

"Go! Go! Go!" Aludra urged her broom. She was gaining on Malfoy—Aludra flattened herself along the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at her—she was at Malfoy's ankles—she was level—

Aludra threw herself forward, taking both hands off her broom. She knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way and—

"YES!"

She pulled out of her dive, her hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Aludra soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in her ears. The tiny golden ball was held tight in her fist, beating its wings hopelessly against her fingers.

"THAT'S MY GIRL! THAT'S MY GIRL!" She heard her father bellowing.

Then Oliver was speeding toward her, half-blinded by tears; he seized Aludra around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into her shoulder. Aludra felt two large thumps as Fred and George hit them; then Angelina's, Evan's, and Katie's voices, "We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!" Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth.

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers onto the field. Hands were raining down on their backs. Aludra had a confused impression of noise and bodies pressing in on her. Then she, and the rest of the team, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. Thrust into the light, she saw Hagrid, plastered with crimson rosettes—"Yeh beat 'em, Ally, yeh beat 'em! Wait till I tell Fang!" There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Her grandmother was sobbing harder even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; her father was still in the stands, yelling "THAT'S MY GIRL!" over and over again. And there, fighting their way toward Aludra, were the boys and Susan. Words failed them. They simply beamed as Aludra and Evan were borne toward the stands, where Aludra's grandfather stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup.

If only there had been a dementor around… As a sobbing Oliver passed Aludra the Cup, as she lifted it into the air, Aludra felt she could have produced the world's best Patronus.