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Harry Potter And The Game of Death
Level 1
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Harry Versus Krum
Harry braced himself as he burst into open air. A wall of noise which shook Harry to the bone hit him as the crowd roared. While a sky set ablaze with magic greeted his eyes, forcing him to break, flip, and turn to dodge the fiery creations dancing in the air.
The forms of spelled gryphons and phoenixes soared above the pitch. Burst of light flashed around them as magical fireworks went off without end. All while a pair of massive stone dragons shaped like the ones on Harry's uniform spewed glittering pillars of flame that soared high into the sky.
Well. Harry was not usually one for making a spectacle of things, but how often did a person make an appearance at the Quidditch World Cup's title match? If any situation called for a flashy entrance, this would be it.
A feral grin firmly in place on his lips and his worries well out of mind now that he was flying, Harry guided his broom towards one of the spiralling pillars of fire. Tucking his body in close to the scorching flames, he rose ever higher along its twisting length.
When Harry reached the flame's apex, the glittering pillar burst apart. The embers then formed into a swarm of fiery lightning bolts which surrounded him, their brightness making even the sun in the sky appear pale in comparison.
Though the reference to his tragic past panged his heart, Harry raised his fist high and made a close pass by the stands. It roared back at him, the mainly British crowd eating up his showmanship with glee. Then he gave the stadium a series of loop de loops from end to end before racing to meet his teammates in the middle of the field.
Once he was in formation and settled, Bronwen and the Bulgarian team's captain moved to exchange handshakes. But unlike normal, no one else from the team was joining the English Captain in the middle.
After a pause, Bronwen twisted her head around. "C'mon Harry, don't you remember? It's your turn to call the toss."
Harry gave a start. It was? No. It couldn't be; he had done it three games ago, which meant that it was someone else's turn.
But before he could open his mouth to protest the honour, Alistair gave his shoulder a nudge from behind. "Get on wit it, lad," the big man whispered gruffly. "Ye helped get us this far. Enjoy th' moment while ye can."
A frog rose in Harry's throat at the kind words. Knowing it would be rude to protest any further, Harry gave his teammates a stiff nod and guided his broom to Bronwen's side.
Facing them from a short distance away were the Bulgarian team's captain and Harry's opponent for the game, Viktor Krum.
The Bulgarian Captain, a thin built man with a swarthy complexion, gave them a sharp nod of greeting. "A pleasure to meet you again, Captain. You are a worthy opponent."
Bronwen gave a husky laugh and shook her head. "The same goes for you, Captain. It's been a year or three since we last crossed paths, and I sure as hell didn't think we'd next meet here."
"Neither did I. But it would seem rivals are always destined to cross paths with each other if they live long enough, no? Perhaps the same will be true of the young men beside us if they are so lucky."
"Perhaps. But it would be rude for us old folk to hog all the attention. So why don't we let the young ones introduce themselves to one another?" Bronwen nodded towards Harry and gestured for him to move up.
Startled once again but refusing to back down from the moment, Harry pushed his broom closer to Krum and cleared his throat. "I, erm, don't know much about having a rival. I've never had one before. In anything," Harry said quietly as he held out his hand. "But it's an honour to play against you in today's match, Viktor."
After a short hesitation, Viktor Krum smiled and clasped Harry's hand with his own. "I am honoured to face you as vell. May the best flyer catch the Snitch and vin today's match."
Before anything else could be said, the referee, a man short enough to be a goblin, nudged his broom forward. "As the home team, England gets to choose. What will the call be, Mr. Potter?"
"Heads," Harry called out.
"Then ve shall take tails," Viktor stated calmly. The older boy's eyes, though, burned with a passion that belied his stoic appearance.
The referee tossed the coin into the air. The golden galleon, carved with the symbols of both nations, sparkled in the sun's light as it tumbled.
When it fell into the referee's open palm, the coin landed head's up. "England wins the toss! Both teams, return to your side and ready yourselves. The match will begin after the whistle in thirty seconds."
The stadium, already loud, reached even higher levels of noise as the players began to move. Bagman yelled out some nonsense about Harry being a lucky charm. All of which made it nearly impossible to hear Bronwen calling out the starting play as the team flew to their positions.
In no time at all the referee's whistle rang out. The Quaffle was given to England, the Snitch was released, and anything other than the game flew out of Harry's mind as he focused the entirety of his being on winning the match.
Deep in the stadium's bowls, Wormtail scurried along a brightly lit corridor. He dodged around the feet of several wizards and witches who were hurrying through the hall. Most failed to notice his presence, but every now and then one did.
He let loose a terrified squeak when one such person stepped on his tail. Quick as he could, he reared back to bite the person's ankle, causing them to jump and swear in pain. Fears of being found out and taken to the D.M.L.E.'s nearby holding areas burst through his mind as he scarpered down the hall and out of sight.
Praying to every Dark power he knew that the person would not follow him, Wormtail continued to run. And as the seconds turned into minutes, and no sound of spells rang out, Wormtail's beating heart finally began to slow.
A burst of relief ran through him when a familiar bush came into sight, and he dove into its protective covering without a second thought.
More than an hour later, a wizard clad in dark robes appeared with a loud crack. At his arrival, Wormtail scurried forth and transformed himself back into his human form.
He eagerly greeted his companion. "My assignment has been completed. Is it time to start the second act?"
The dark robed man shook his head. "No. The match has yet to end. And until it does the Dark Lord's criteria will not be met. For though blood is what our master seeks, one person's blood is sought above all others, and it is up to us three to deliver it."
"Ah, yes, yes, of course. How silly of me to forget." Wormtail gave a chittering laugh as he bobbed his head in apology. Though he currently stood high in the Dark Lord's favour, it never hurt to ingratiate himself with his fellow Death Eaters. "In any matter, I'm looking forward to seeing the look on Malfoy's face when he realizes he has been used. Oh, how sweet it will be to see that pompous fool's ego brought low."
"Heh. It will certainly be a wondrous sight to behold. It alone would make my recent assignment worth the discomfort." Laughing, the man gestured for Wormtail to grab hold of his arm. "But let us not tarry here overlong. We still don't know how Potter was able to learn of Malfoy's plans, and I do not want to risk the Dark Lord's displeasure by tipping the boy off."
Wormtail nodded and did as he was bidden. After all, the man's words made sense. Potter's ability to track Malfoy's plan was uncanny. Not knowing how he did it, even with Wormtail tailing the boy nearly every moment he spent outside of Sirius' stupidly well warded house, was a problem.
But it was a problem which would have to wait for later.
With a crack of displaced air, the two men vanished. Leaving behind naught but an empty area and smudges in the dirt where they had once stood.
"And with that chip shot to the left ring, ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a tie game. Both sides are at 70 apiece, and unless one of the players gets injured, I don't see the situation changing anytime soon."
Harry listened absentmindedly as Ludo Bagman began to wax poetically about how the English Beaters might go about doing so, only to give an embarrassed apology after someone else briefly took the mic away from him to state that the British Department of Magical games and Sports did not condone the active harm of any Quidditch participants. Harry shook his head at that, but a jolt to his broom forced Harry to bring his attention back to his own job.
Half a metre ahead, Viktor Krum gave Harry a white toothed smile as he lazily returned his feet to a resting position. "Vhat are you thinking of, Potter? Our match is up here, not down below.
"Is it now?" Harry tossed back angrily as he tried, and failed, to slip around his cocky opponent. "And here I thought we were just having a nice chat like a pair of old chums."
"Vell, ve are, but that does not stop us from competing, no?" Krum angled his broom into Harry's path and cut back on his speed, forcing Harry into a sharp spin-roll to avoid the Bulgarian Seeker. "Aha, nice reflexes there. I used that move to take out the French Seeker."
"I'm made of sterner stuff than the French, Krum," Harry replied. He then managed to edge the front of his Firebolt into the rear of Krum's broom and force the older boy to split to the side to retain control. "See what I mean?"
"Ha! That vas a nice manoeuvre. But just how good you are remains to be seen."
Harry felt his eyebrow begin to twitch in annoyance at Krum's laughter. Unlike his other opponents in the tournament, nothing Harry said seemed able to get under the older boy's skin. Whereas anything Krum said was almost guaranteed to get under Harry's.
Motioning that he only wanted to talk, Krum pulled up alongside Harry and lightly bumped their shoulders together. "I like vhat I 'ave seen of your skills, Potter, but vhat do you say about putting on a show?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. This had the feel of a trap writ all over it. "What kind of show are you talking about, Krum?"
"Hm… since neither vone of us 'as seen the Snitch, how about a contest vich vill test our skills to the limit?"
Yeah, Krum's offer was definitely a trap; the team's research on Krum's tendencies had shown as much, and Harry had previously watched from the stands as Krum had dismantled another team's Seeker.
But having the opportunity to at long last test himself against a worthy opponent in the sport, one who played the same position as he did, on the same model of broom, caused Harry's blood to rise in excitement.
He grinned and tightly gripped his broom. "That sounds good to me. But let's add in another twist, shall we?"
"Vhat sort of tweest?"
"Simple. That neither one of us is allowed to stop until the other is taken out or one of us spots the Snitch."
Krum smiled at the proposition. "Oho. A vonderful addeetion, Potter. I agree to it."
"Then let's begin!"
Harry matched his actions to his words by sending his broom into a steep climb. He felt more than saw Krum match him, what with his attention focused on coaxing as much speed out of his trusty Firebolt as he could.
The two of them climbed into the sky side by side like this, silent but for the whistle of wind.
Only when they reached a level where it hurt to breathe did the two of them slow, enter a gentle, rolling arc, and eventually send their brooms into a blistering nosedive, racing back to the tiny dot of the stadium far, far below.
"Bloody hell! Lookit, Ginny, Harry and Krum are going off. It looks like Krum managed to trick Harry into one of his games!"
Ginny spared her brother Ron a withering glance before turning her attention back to her Omniocular. But when the two Seekers flew too high for even the magical device to spot them, she put it down with a cross huff. "I can see that, Ronald. But you know better than most how good a flier Harry is. If anyone can beat Krum at his own game, it'll be Harry."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's a smart decision on Harry's part; it hasn't ended well for anyone whose tried it in the past. Merlin's beard, I warned him about it enough times in our letters."
"You weren't the only one," one of the twins said in a disgruntled tone. "Fred and I warned Harry loads of times too."
"That's right. And to make matters worse, we even put some money down on Krum failing to take him out like he's done with every other Seeker he's played against."
"We also put money down on a few other scenarios too, but most of them are pretty long bets. And if that one doesn't pan out, our financial situation for the near term looks fairly grim."
"Is that so?" Came a stern voice from behind the siblings. Turning around, Ginny saw their father standing there with a look of severe displeasure on his face. The twins started, apparently realizing what they had just let slip.
Arthur Weasley placed a hand on each of the twins' shoulders and gave them a stern look. "And just where did you get the money to make so many bets with, hm?"
"Well, father, you see…"
"As a pair of enterprising businessmen who have a wide array of connections…"
As the twins began to weave a tale of utter hogwash to cover their unfortunate slipup, Ginny rolled her eyes and focused back on Ron. "Well? What do you think? Will Krum really beat Harry?"
Her brother took his sweet time in answering. And when he did, it was after he gave a very hesitant shake of his head. "I've got no clue, Gin. Harry's good on a broom – as in really good. Maybe one of the best. But the problem's that Krum's got just as much talent… and loads more experience to boot."
Great. That had not been the confidence boosting pick me up Ginny had wanted to hear from her brother. She could feel her expression souring as her worry for Harry grew ever stronger.
But before she could respond, Bagman's booming voice grabbed her attention.
"Turn your eyes back to the sky, folks, because both of our missing Seekers are about to return. And unless I'm very much mistaken, they're moving fast enough to put a pair of shooting stars to shame!"
Never in his life had Harry gone so fast. Were it not for the goggles which covered his eyes and helmet which shielded his ears, the windshear alone would have long since left him blind and bloodied. As it were, he was struggling to keep his lips pressed close and his fingers clasped around the handle of his broom as the flow of air constantly tried to pry them open.
But he managed to hold firm because Krum was still going strong. The Bulgarian player was only two metres to his right and showed little sign of feeling the same level of pressure.
Not only that, but when the stadium came into sight from behind the clouds, the lunatic began to inch his broom closer to Harry's!
Knowing that a collision at this height and speed would be a bad thing, Harry mirrored Krum's manoeuvre in reverse.
Only for Krum to increase his own sideways rotation!
Harry read Krum's latest adjustment as well and corrected his own course yet again. In a matter of seconds what had been a simple downward plunge began to change. The two of them entered an ever-tightening spiral, each seeming to chase the other with neither one gaining an edge.
Harry's pulse begin to race. He could see what Krum was planning. The older boy was hoping the combination of speed and constant rotation would throw off Harry's sense of where the ground was so when it came time to pull up, Harry would instead crash into the turf. The spells cast over the green grass would keep Harry from dying, but the impact would probably knock him out and break more than a few of his bones.
It was a nasty manoeuvre. But it was a clear sign the older boy was taking the challenge seriously.
Besides, if that was how Krum wanted to play, then Harry was more than happy to take up the challenge gauntlet and beat the older boy at his own game. Harry's acute sense for spatial orientation had never failed him before. And when it came time to pull out, Harry knew exactly what manoeuvre he would pull next.
"Dear lord!" Bagman's voice called out in horror. "Folks, get ready to hide the eyes of your children. Because unless I'm wrong, both Seekers have entered a manoeuvre the likes of which this tournament hasn't seen in nearly two centuries! And the last time it happened is the reason why the modern Quidditch pitch has anti-impact and force-absorbing spells cast over it before every match."
Hermione swore under her breath, pausing her continuing surveillance of the crowd to look up at the sky.
Hoping against hope that Harry was not doing something so dumb, she caught sight of the twin blurs and zoomed in.
Yet sure enough, the image her Omnioculars showed was exactly as the flamboyant commentator had described. Harry and his opponent were plummeting towards the ground at speeds which could only be described as either dangerously unsafe or completely insane.
"Pull up, you idiot!" Hermione screamed to herself as she watched Harry blaze towards the ground. "Don't hurt yourself doing something this stupid!"
But her words did not reach her best friend's ears. Or least, not the ones about continuing to do something so stupid.
Because just when it seemed that both Harry and his opponent were dead set on crashing into the ground, the two maniacs on brooms split apart and pulled up. They ended up skimming the short-cut grass of the pitch, less than half-a-foot separating their bodies from the turf that could have ended them had either one been a split second slower in their reaction.
Hermione's heart was beating so hard in her chest that it was probably visible.
"Boys! Why do they have to be so stupid?" Hermione muttered as she watched Harry and his opponent zoom off in opposite directions.
Watching Harry come that close to hitting the turf had brought back flashes of his disastrous game with the rogue Bludger, an event which had firmly solidified her opinion of Quidditch's unacceptable level of danger. "When next I see him, I am going to box his ears so hard! So that he never does something like that again, the charming, idiotic, bloody mule-headed fool that he is."
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But thinking of ways to forcibly cure Harry of one of his few faults would have to wait. Duty called.
"By Merlin's grace, folks, look at that!" Bagman called out in glee. "Not content with a perfect Indian Death Spiral performed at speeds never seen before thanks to the high specs of the Spudmore Firebolt, located in stores across the nation and abroad, both Seekers look to be gathering speed once again. What will they do next? Oh, and England scored a goal, while Bulgaria now holds the Quaffle."
Ginny felt her heart race as she watched Harry follow the stadium's curving wall. He and Krum were like moving mirrors as both boys raced to pick up more speed, their uniforms seeming to almost blur.
"This. Is. Brilliant!" Ron yelled out in excitement. The boisterous boy then latched onto one of Ginny's shoulders and shook her. Hard. "What d'you think they'll do next? A Kaminsky double loop? A Warbubble circle? Ooh! Ooh! It's a Flintlock sweep!"
"Let go of me, you idiot! I want to see what's happening too!" Furious, Ginny batted away her brother's arm so she could concentrate on what was happening. Because after hugging the wall's curve to pick up speed, both Harry and Krum had turned on a dime and were now blazing towards each other head-on.
Ginny held her breath. Were the two trying to play chicken? If so, what might happen if both players refused to give up? Would they collide with one another? Merlin's grace, what if that got Harry badly hurt? Or even killed?
Thankfully, none of those things happened. Instead, just as they were about to hit, both Harry and Krum simultaneously swivelled on their brooms to brush past the other.
So close were they that their booted feet nearly touched. Then they returned to the stadium's wall and resumed hugging its curves. This process repeated three more times, each one leaving Ginny breathless as she watched in awe.
She was good on a broom. Really good, if she were honest. Maybe good enough to play professionally one day.
But could she pull off this sort of manoeuvre? Or the one that had come before it?
Not a chance. What Harry and Krum were currently doing right now was a spectacular display of flying skills. One which might be unequalled throughout the history of Quidditch. And seeing it happen right in front of her eyes was a dream come true.
Literally, in this case. Though Harry's opponent had always been faceless, this dream and others like it had made their way into Ginny's private fantasies more than once.
As Ron whooped and hollered beside her, joined in by the twins and her father in cheering Harry on, Ginny resolved herself to do something she had been too afraid to do for the past two years.
Win or lose, and Hermione's nutty plan be damned, Ginny was going to snog Harry witless after the game ended.
"By Morgana's smoky eyes, my poor heart can't take this anymore," Bagman's voice boomed out, a tremble in his speech. "This makes it eight times – wait, now it's nine – that both Seekers have performed a Flintlock Sweep at record breaking speeds. Yes, Li, I know I should be commenting on the rest of the match, but why bother? What we're seeing Krum and Potter do right now has never happened before and may never happen again! It's my duty as this game's announcer to call it out, because by golly, here they go again!"
Fleur narrowed her eyes. She still had no taste for Quidditch, but she had to admit that today's match was mildly entertaining. It was certainly far more visually exciting than any of the other dreary matches she had seen.
After listening to the announcer ramble on and on about how incredible it was, she turned to look at her mother. "Eez zee idiot man saying ze truth zis time, maman? Eez zis really an amazing match?"
Appolline leaned forward in her own chair, a dark smile affixed to her beautiful face. "Indeed, my daughter. For once in his life, that fool Ludo may actually be underselling their performance. What those two boys are doing right now is a truly magnificent display of talent and skill. Absolutely superb."
Fleur hummed softly in thought. In that case, it was a pity Gabrielle was not able to see it herself; considering the girl's infatuation with the young Potter, she would probably have been over the moon had she been present.
But Gabrielle was not here. And missing this performance would only be one more nail hammered into the poor girl's heart by their mother's uncaring hands.
As Fleur's heart pained at the thought, Appolline placed a hand on Fleur's lap and gently took her hand.
She sighed when Fleur angrily jerked it out of her mother's grasp. "Dislike me all you want, daughter, but watch closely. The two of them are of a similar age to you and attend Durmstrang and Hogwarts. One or both of those boys could soon be your opponent in the Tri-Wizard tournament; and if their skill with a wand is half as great as their skill on a broom, it would be wise not to underestimate them. You should take advantage of this opportunity to gauge their nerve and evaluate their reflexes."
Fleur nodded. She had yet to forgive or forget her anger with her mother, but it was still good advice. And good advice should never be discarded just because one disliked its speaker. "Oui, maman."
"And when the decisive moment arrives, observe how each handles the result. A man who is gracious in victory can be a dangerous opponent. While a man who is crushed by defeat may use it as fuel to triumph in future contests."
"Oui, Maman. Je comprends."
"Daughter…"
Fleur sighed and grumbled under her breath. After weeks of heavy use, and she still hated to use the English language. "Yes, muzzer. I… understand and comply."
"Good girl. Now, look closely. I have a feeling they will do something different on the next pass."
Harry could feel himself grinning like a loon as he hugged the stadium's wall. As to why he was grinning, it was for a singular reason.
Never in his life had Harry had so much fun.
He had always known he was a brilliant flyer. He had known that Krum was supposedly just as good, too, or possibly even better. Goodness knows enough people had told him as much. But knowing something theoretically and actually experiencing it were two very different things.
If there was a difference in skill or talent between them, then so far as Harry could tell it was so minor as to be non-existent. They had the same thoughts at the same time; performed identical manoeuvres simultaneously; and were pushing the other to shave infinitesimal amounts off the already miniscule distance which separated them during a pass.
But Harry could tell it was time to change things up. This next pass would be different. And he had an inkling as to what Krum wanted to pull next.
When they once again flew right at each other, Harry matched Krum when the older boy pulled up rather than splitting to the side. Nor was he caught off-guard when Krum went into a spiral much like how they had started the duel.
Still, the same was true for Krum in being able to read Harry's moves.
When Harry began to move his broom closer and at an angle, Krum mirrored it perfectly. This change gradually bent the upward spiral until it was pointing at the English goalposts. And even when they both shot through one of the giant hoops, flashing past a startled Annabelle, the only change to their flight was when Krum angled his broomstick and turned the spiral's orientation to a direction of his choosing.
Sirius cursed under his breath as he watched his godson fly like a madman. Twisting and turning at maximum speed, the two Seekers buzzed the screaming crowd in the stadium's northern sector.
"Merlin's hairy sack, the boy is good!" Sirius muttered under his breath as he kept his eyes glued to his godson's tiny form. His heart was pounding from a mixture of excitement and a desire to soundly box the fool boy's ears. "But I may need to have a talk with him later about not getting drawn into your opponents flow."
From what Sirius could tell, the two boys were equally talented. But whereas Harry seemed to have been fully drawn into the competition between them and was giving it his all, Sirius felt that the Krum was keeping something hidden within his sleeves like any good veteran player did. But what?
It took a few minutes. But as the two boys continued to twist and turn in the air, making their way around the pitch, Sirius finally figured out Krum's plan.
By Slytherin's blotchy white arse, Krum was looking for the Snitch!
Somehow, even in the midst of that maelstrom of motion, the Bulgarian player was searching for the golden ball which would end the game. It showed in how Krum would angle their flight path towards locations they had yet to fly over, whereas Harry would change their path solely in ways designed to make the manoeuvre more challenging.
Sirius' fingers twitched as he thought about sending the boy a message through the blasted Game's 'Party' feature, but he stopped himself. If a ding went off and distracted the boy at this critical juncture, who knew what might happen?
No. There was nothing Sirius could do right now except hope the kid figured things out before it was too late.
"Hey, Bosco, are you seeing what's going on out there? Potter's really giving Krum a run for his money. It's amazing!"
"I'm sure it is, mate. But unlike you, I'm doing my job and monitoring the wards. Speaking of which... It looks like there's another problem in node fifty-seven."
"Again? Those blighters in the Department of Mysteries should've had it fixed yesterday. Of all the idiotic… ugh! Dealing with trans-reality magic is way outside my comfort zone; the bloody wards for it are so tricky they could drive a bloke mad!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm right there with you. Just put a call in to squad fifteen to check it out for now and we'll have a specialist take a look whenever one becomes available."
"Roger."
Remus scratched his ear as the two Ministry employees went about their business, though he split some of his attention to watch Harry and Krum fly on a projected screen stationed nearby. Counting Hestia and himself, there were a total of eight people in the room. Four of whom where magic users specialized in maintaining active wards, while the other two were Aurors stationed in the room in case of a breach.
Going back to Harry's dazzling performance, Remus felt that the first employee had been on the money with his words. Both boys were much more talented than anyone Remus had ever seen, and he knew James would have cried himself silly had the man been able to witness it.
Lily… not so much. But Lily had never been a fan of Quidditch and had rarely been happier than the day James had quit the team to focus on his studies during their seventh year at Hogwarts.
A nudge to his shoulder grabbed Remus' attention.
"So, things've been pretty quiet so far," Hestia said from beside him. The woman's head was oriented towards the tiny projection of the Quidditch match on the wall, but her eyes were glued to the pulsing web of magic which displayed the stadium's protective wards. "Think that'll change?"
Remus glanced at the young woman and nodded. "I do. I just don't know when."
"Got it. I'll keep watching, then."
Remus opened his mouth to tell her to avoid tensing up when his ears caught something. An odd noise. One that disappeared shortly after he heard it. But one which also sounded… familiar.
Frowning to himself, Remus looked around to see if he could spot the source.
Nothing seemed to be suspicious at first glance. The Ministry employees stationed in the room were at their posts. And though they were making plenty of noise as they communicated with Ministry teams throughout the stadium grounds, the sound which had caught Remus' attention had not come from them.
As for other possible sources… the only door to the area was still closed and spelled against anything but the loudest of sounds. While the room around them was empty save for Hestia, himself, the chairs on which the Ministry employees were sitting, a rubbish bin, and a large cabinet filled with snacks and drinks.
None of which were the source of the noise. Which, despite his straining, had not appeared again.
After several tense seconds spent straining his hearing to its limits, and finding nothing, Remus stopped and relaxed. Huffing to himself for letting his paranoia get the best of him, Remus put the noise out of mind and returned to where he could monitor both the web of Wards and Harry's game.
Harry's heart soared as he continued to push his Firebolt to its maximum speed.
Never had Harry thought he could do half of the manoeuvres he had pulled throughout the match; some of them he had only read of in Quidditch magazines or heard about from Ron and other boys at school.
But facing Krum had pushed Harry past his previous limits as a flyer. He was in brand new territory, with every second bringing something new and exciting. And he loved every second of it!
So when Krum suddenly broke off from their game and disappeared from sight, Harry was utterly dumbfounded. Confused by the abrupt change, Harry pulled back on his broom and searched for his opponent.
When he finally located Krum, the older boy was forty metres away and moving fast.
"By Morgana's sweet breath!" Bagman screamed. "KRUM'S SEEN THE SNITCH!"
A/N: And the pace keeps on picking up!
Like I've said since the beginning, I've been using this story as one big writing experiment. It's a giant reason why there has been a good deal of inconsistency in my writing style; I've been purposefully playing around with different methods and techniques, switching things up from chapter to chapter as I progress through the story (although new readers won't see this quite as much thanks to my many revisions). I'm not yet at the wonderful goldilocks point of having things 'just right'… but with time and help from all of you, I'm getting closer.
Stay Safe and Healthy!
~Elsil