In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 83: Game
Ron woke Saturday to the smell of bacon, the last one in bed, and his stomach growled.
Hoot!
A roll over, Ron stood, stumbled. He reached, stroked a couple of Hedwig's feathers, stuffed a bit of the owl treat into Pig's beak. A yawn, Ron left the bedroom and went down the steps.
"Bunch of freaks," said Andy.
Brushed from the side by the oversized blue shirt, Andy turned and went out the front door. A right, past Snuffles on the sofa, and Ron entered the kitchen. Gia at the stove, spatula in her hand.
"Where's this game?" Kristen asked.
"School," Hermione said.
"Gotta be part of their cult," Gia said.
Ron understood the white lie that let them dance closer to the truth.
"Certainly you can sneak me in," Kristen said, "As a constable I can go—"
"They'd sniff you out," Ron said.
"Harry's still out on the run?" Kristen said, "He's…slippery."
Gia opened the oven, put another pancake in. She poured more batter onto the frying pan. Smells reminded Ron of the Burrow, though those spatulas wouldn't be in hands as his Mum would supervise.
"Hi," Ron whispered as he stepped next to Hermione.
Ron leaned in from behind Hermione and held her. He sniffed at the apple scent in the bushy hair.
"Good morning," Hermione said.
"Um…" Harry muttered as he entered the kitchen.
"Smells good," said Richard, a step behind.
"Gia's idea," Hermione said.
"Not yours?" Ron asked, disappointed.
"Harry, let me know when you're ready to go the game," Kristen said.
"Um…" Harry muttered.
"Hermione can you?" Gia asked.
Ron unsure if Gia was deflecting the attention, still, Hermione left Ron's grasp, and went to the refrigerator. Hermione brought out some orange juice, went into the dining room.
"Come and get me when you've finished," Kristen said to Harry, and she left the room.
Whistle from the electric kettle, Ron went for the tea bags.
"Harry," Gia said, "About to spill some maple syrup on myself on the dining table, need you to—"
Pop!
Harry apparated into the dining room. Gia snickered, carried the plates full into the dining room.
"You too Ron," Gia said.
Ron entered, realized he'd sit next to Harry on the other side, walked around and sat.
"I debated serving breakfast in bed except somebody went for their run," Gia said.
Plates now in front of both Ron and Harry, the stack of hotcakes, the glasses of orange juice, extra plates of over–easy fried eggs, sides of bacon. Hermione added tea bags, poured the boiling hot water into the mugs.
"Can you dance on the table?" Harry asked.
Ron's fork in hand, he dug in fast, the syrup and butter on top, it moved fast into his mouth. Harry's hand barely budged, remained idle on the fork resting in his stack of hotcakes.
"Eat Harry," Ron said, "Don't want a starving Seeker."
"I don't eat breakfast," Harry stated.
Ron knew that lie, he'd seen Harry eat it before, on occasion.
"You do today," Gia said, now seated, working on a plate of eggs and bacon.
Hermione worked at some oatmeal.
"What'd you have yesterday?" Ron asked, "Anything?"
"When was your last meal?" Gia asked Harry.
Harry sat there, counted on his fingers, while Ron finished up the last of his bacon.
"Want Gryffindor to lose?" Ron said, his plate now empty, "You need to eat."
Ron turned his head, stared at those bottle greens, uttered the charm.
"You're…" Harry started.
Ron took his cravings of earlier, pushed them as best he could at Harry.
"Alright!" Harry snapped.
Harry took the fork, took a bite of the hotcake, bared his teeth as he chewed.
Ron heard the sigh, the blue eyes of Gia hinted at the frustration, the one Ron shared, that they shouldn't have to babysit a sixteen year old into eating, but they were.
Burp!
Half of Harry's hotcakes gone, most of the bacon and one of the eggs done.
"I'm stuffed," Harry said, "Can I go now?"
Harry disapparated.
"That's now ordinary for him," Hermione muttered before she sipped at her tea.
"After the game, we'll work on it," Ron said, "Still…mind?"
Ron grabbed Harry's plates, finished the hotcakes, the bacon, and the eggs. He drank the last bit of orange juice.
"We did get … something into him," Gia said.
"Ta," Ron said as he stood.
"At least Ron liked it," Hermione said to Gia.
"Keep trying," Ron said to Gia.
Ron went around the table, up the steps, into the bedroom.
"You're—" Harry started.
"Starving yourself isn't the answer," Ron said, "I can accept that you've got half the stomach I do—"
Harry snorted.
"You can't run forever on magic alone," Ron said, "She bent over backwards to make sure you don't go hungry and are fed. Don't shake it. Besides, the game."
Ron went over to the closet, took out his Gryffindor red and gold Quidditch Robes, pulled them over his head. Harry reached for his.
"I'll get the car ready," Kristen said from the landing, she went down the steps.
Richard stood at the opening of his bedroom door, watched.
"SNUFFLES!" Harry shouted.
Gia and Hermione entered, along with the black dog. Harry pulled out his Portkey, and activated it. Ron, Hermione, Gia, and Snuffles touched it; they were pulled away.
Moments earlier, Kristen walked out of the house, to the car, and put the key into the ignition. A man in canary yellow stood across the street, nose into The Daily Telegraph in his hands. Car's tank was full, and she started the engine, figured it best to be warm. She locked the doors, double checked, went back into the house, up the steps.
"Harry! Ron!" Kristen shouted.
She came to the empty bedroom.
"Already left Mum," Richard said, standing in the open door of his bedroom, "Besides, what about Ant?"
A shake of the floor, smoke billowed up, flames on the roof deck to the other side of the pool deck, the smoke detectors started to blare.
"Not again!" Richard grumbled.
"Out!" Kristen said.
She grabbed her mobile, punched the numbers as they went fast down the stairs, the smoke filling up the living room fast.
"Fire!" Kristen shouted into the mobile, as they left the house.
Cool weather did nothing against the heat she felt. Car already engulfed in flames, a turn around, fire at the right by the front study, and in the left corner. Richard bolted for the house.
"Richard!" Kristen shouted.
Richard grabbed the garden hose, tried to spray it against the corner by the study, the wail of the firetrucks approached.
Harry's feet hit the floor first, as he landed in the Gryffindor sixth year boys dormitory, unaware to the situation at home. Ron, Gia, Hermione, and Snuffles landed as well. Ron went to the table, picked up a sausage egg biscuit, ate it as they walked. Harry's robes billowed.
"Watch your step," Harry advised, his wand out as they went down the steps.
"Should we simply ask McGonagall if we can use her office instead?" Ron said, between bites, "It'd be faster."
"They want us to appear…jump," Harry said, sailing over the landing to the fifth year boys dormitory.
"Will there be a lot of this?" Gia asked.
"Unfortunately yes," Hermione said.
"Who'd report them?" Ron said, "Ginny'd or Colin'd have to catch them first—when they're not busy snogging."
Harry jumped over the bottom step and they left Gryffindor Tower.
"Woof!" Snuffles barked.
"Good," Harry said, "Um…" He stopped himself before insulting his godfather.
"Think we could stop in the Great Hall?" Ron said, "I'm starving."
"Don't have time," Harry said as he glanced out the nearby window, the dull weather, the crowd that was gathering at the stands of the Quidditch Pitch.
Harry's feet began to move faster, Ron, Hermione, and Gia sped up to chase, a near run by the time Harry slid down the banister of the marble staircase. A jump, the stairs, and out the door. Only a few straggler students were on the path, they yielded as Harry ran.
"I should most definitely transfigure Mr. Weasley into a pocket watch for you," said Professor McGonagall at the entrance to the Quidditch pitch.
In the distance, Fred and George Weasley had portable trays open, handed out merchandise and pocketed the money. Professor Tonks extended her hand to Gia. Professor McGonagall escorted Hermione up into the stands. However, Harry's attention had turned to the Minister who stood there in sky blue robes, Firebolts in hand.
"Do not try anything funny," Minister Fallerschain warned.
Harry grabbed his Firebolt, as did Ron, and they walked into the small locker room.
"There you are," Ginny said, "Was getting worried."
"Time to line up," Ron said, "Nice broom sis."
Harry spotted the pride in Ginny's eyes, the birthday gift in hand, as they all moved to line up in the booth, waiting. Harry gripped his broom, waited.
"Welcome to Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff," Seamus Finnigan's voice announced over the magic microphone, "Eagerly anticipated match to see if Hufflepuff has the nerve to fight, in a heated match to the death, our resident Dark Wizards—"
"Finnigan!" Professor McGonagall's voice snapped, caught up by the microphone.
"We will see if Hufflepuff will dare to tempt fate," Finnigan announced, "Presenting Gryffindor!"
Ahead, the door dropped, the stands full of Gryffindor red and gold, or the Hufflepuff light yellow and black, though shiny armor was also in the crowd, along with some canary yellow. Ron flew out first, Harry followed.
"Weasley! Potter!" Finnigan announced, as Harry flew, "Weasley, Brenner, MacDonald, Prewett, and Prewett sporting a total of three Firebolts — you'd think they'd afford seven—"
"Finnigan!" McGonagall snapped.
Harry flew in the wind, spotted Gia and Hermione sitting in the top box. Snuffles Professor Tonks, Professor McGonagall, Arthur Weasley, and the Headmaster nearby. Shiny armor of Seamus Finnigan animated with the use of the microphone.
"Sorry Professor," Finnigan announced, "Presenting Hufflepuff."
A panel next to the pitch below dropped, the sea of yellow that flew out.
"Zacharias Smith," Finnigan announced, "Macmillan — slow with that body armor — Cauldwell, Stebbins, Summers, Whitby, and Hopkins. Players are lining up."
As Harry flew up to take the high center above the other players, he spotted Ron in the corner of the eye moving toward the goals. Ernie Macmillan rose slowly on his Nimbus 2000, the metal shined beneath his Hufflepuff Quidditch Robes.
"Seekers match off," Finnigan announced.
"You're the Seeker?" Harry asked Ernie Macmillan.
Silence except for eyes that glared back, ones that hinted at a drawing of wands to change assignments.
"Wood is coming out," Finnigan announced.
Blue cardigan below, Oliver Wood carried the box out, a broom attached to his back, and he set the box down. Broom off, he opened the box, let the snitch and Bludgers out first. Quaffle up into the air and Wood mounted that Firebolt, flew as Yellow and Crimson Red dove together.
"They're off!" Finnigan announced, "Seems Hufflepuff is tempting fate."
Harry started a loop around the stadium. A Bludger came straight at him. Harry tried to pull up, instead the broom turned and accelerated toward the Bludger.
"No!" Harry protested.
Harry wrenched on the broom, to no effect except to fly faster. A split second, Harry loosened his grip and did a barrel roll. His Bludger zoomed past, skipped along the broom handle, taking several twigs. A swing, Harry regained his balance on the broom, took off as usual.
"Rogue Bludgers!" came Hermione's protest, picked up by the magic microphone.
"Their faults if they can't manage a Bludger," the Minister snapped back, also picked up by the microphone.
"Are Potter and Weasley doomed by their own hands?" Finnigan shouted, "We can only hope so!"
In an opposite direction, Ron flew close toward Harry.
"You too?" Ron asked.
Harry tried to pull his broom up as two Bludgers converged on him, it refused. An attempt to dive, still his Firebolt refused. Harry repeated his roll, the one passed him by, the other hit his shoulder. Harry lost his balance, fell with the broom in his hand.
"WAGERS!" Finnigan shouted.
Harry slammed into the ground. Despite the soreness, Harry summoned the strength to mount his Firebolt once again, and sped upward. Harry spotted the snitch by the Gryffindor goal posts, and Harry gave chase. Snitch went up and he pulled up. Snitch went down, however, his broom refused and took him fast toward Hogwarts Castle. Canary yellow smoke poured up from the Hospital Wing.
Harry understood it now, the trap, the reminder. He tried to release his grip of the broom, except it was as if his hands were taped, frozen in his grip, unable to move. His Firebolt jumped up over the Quidditch Pitch, pulled him upward
"Unorthodox strategy!" Finnigan announced in that fading voice.
"Down!" Harry snapped at his Firebolt.
Broom handle of wood ignored his command, his will, pulled him up into the clouds, the pitch a dot below, past Ron falling with nothing supporting him. Harry soared above until it was a white carpet bathed in the unblocked sun. A lurch, another, and Harry's grip forced as a crack came to that handle.
As if invisible hands tried to strangle, Harry labored, unable to breath. A loud bang, the handle shredded into pieces, and Harry's grip failed. Harry fell, his back down, spread eagle, as those shreds of his Firebolt turned into sharp metal daggers, chased.
Harry tried to roll, tried to reach for his wrist, tried to think of somebody to apparate to, but instead blacked out.
Hermione watched up into the cloud covered skies above. Every other Quidditch player on the pitch had already stopped, everybody's focus upward at the dots of red far above falling faster and faster.
"Ooh…" Finnigan announced into the magic microphone, the silvered metal armor craned on the neck as far as it'd allow, the visor up, "Time for them to pop in five…four…three…two…"
Ron fell first, surrounded by metal shards, limp, not moving. Fred and George's wands already out, and a short bounce next to the Gryffindor goals.
"Rats," Finnigan said, "Hoped the brain would pop out!"
"FINNIGAN!" McGonagall snapped, her wand out.
Harry fell faster, also limp, near the center of the Quidditch Pitch. Dumbledore's wand also out, waved, Harry hit harder, a crack came through. Hermione already stood, Gia ran with her. Wood blew his whistle.
"Let them through!" shouted the Minister.
Snuffles chased behind, the stretchers already beneath both. Madam Pomfrey hovered over Ron, the other stretcher with Harry moved toward the mediwitch. A motion, Madam Pomfrey worked on Ron, her wand checked, as the stretchers moved into the team box, a curtain away from the locker room.
"Are they—?" Hermione asked.
"My son!" said Arthur Weasley as he entered.
"Harry?" Gia asked.
"I'm prohibited," Madam Pomfrey said.
"What?" Arthur Weasley asked.
"I need to get them to—" Madam Pomfrey said.
"Impossible for at least an hour," Arthur Weasley said.
Professor McGonagall entered the locker room.
"They're about to riot," Professor McGonagall said.
"Can we get them to—you know?" Madam Pomfrey asked Hermione.
Hermione reached for Harry's right wrist, opened his holster, removed the Hogwarts Pin, and activated it. Madam Pomfrey brought Ron's finger to it as she touched, the jerk behind the navals, Harry and Ron were pulled in the stretchers, along with Madam Pomfrey and Hermione.
…
Minerva McGonagall glanced at Arthur Weasley, extended her hand, and palmed a Hogwarts Pin into his hand.
"Understand," Arthur Weasley, "What about Harry? Why'd Pomfrey say—"
"Harry forbade her from ever treating him again," Gia said, a tear to her eye.
Minerva understood the gravity of the situation.
"Get her home," Minerva said to Arthur Weasley.
"Will do," Arthur said as he tapped on the pin.
Gia and Snuffles touched, held on, vanished. Minerva had started to turn when she heard the voice as the hairs on her neck went up.
"I demand—" came the plea of Delores Umbridge.
"Pardon," Minerva said as she turned to the lady in pink, "This is a locker room, visitors are not permitted."
"Remember who I am?" asked Delores Umbridge.
"Unfortunately," Minerva said.
"Where is Potter?" Delores Umbridge.
"Mr. Potter has been removed from the grounds of Hogwarts," Minerva McGonagall said.
"Under proper medical—" Delores Umbridge started.
"Hogwarts has rules on improper disclosure of medical information on patients," Minerva said, "We take safeguarding their privacy very seriously. If you'll excuse me."
Minerva left the locker room, returned to the top box.
"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are out of play," Minerva said.
"Who—hoo!" shouted Finnigan, "Let us keep going!"
Ginny flew up to the top box.
"Gryffindor forfeits," Ginny stated.
"Uh–um," the Minister Fallerschain said, flipping through a book. Minerva saw it, the rarity it was actually pulled out, the rule book. "States that only the team captain may request a forfeit."
Minerva understood, unlike the committee, this man had come prepared. Even Wood flew up to the top box.
"Who is the team captain?" the Minister asked.
"A deputy may also forfeit," Minerva said.
"Sorry," said Oliver Wood, "While Ronald did appoint Ginny as acting captain in his stead, no form was filed."
The Minister smiled.
"I'm now the Seeker," Ginny said, "Colin's Keeper."
The Minister tapped on the rule book.
"Only the captain or their designated deputy may make substitutions," Oliver Wood said.
"That's—" Ginny started.
"Those are the rules," the Minister said, "Your only other option is to quit the team and let down your house."
A slow tap of the cane, Dumbledore returned to the top box.
"Sorry, with age comes the increased need to visit the little wizard's room," Dumbledore said, "Did I miss anything?"
"Suspensions," the Minister said.
"As you stated," Dumbledore said, "Self inflicted and only affects them, therefore the resolution is not invoked, no suspension is warranted, unless you feel otherwise."
Finnigan, now out of his armor, in canary yellow, returned to the magic microphone. A blow from Oliver Wood's whistle.
"And the play resumes!" Finnigan said, "Lousy odds for Gryffindor, feel sorry for those that wagered for them."
Minerva worried, the pretense, watched as Hufflepuff proceeded to capitalize on the two missing Gryffindor players.
Red flashing lights greeted Gia as they landed in Noigate, in front of the house.
"Supposed to not be so conspicuous," said Arthur Weasley.
Snuffles bound into the house, while men in firefighting suits guarded the study, some on ladders to the roof deck, both corners well charred.
"Hey!" shouted Kristen as she came over, "Please step away from the house."
"We thought—seems structurally fine to me," said Arthur Weasley to the lady, "Know anything about Elektricity?"
Gia went fast, into the house, permeated by a heavy smokey smell, the far side of the living room well charred, partially collapsed, with water that seeped down. Stairs creaked as she walked up them, water logged beneath her feet, and went up to her bedroom. Madam Pomfrey and Hermione over Harry and Ron, still idle on the bed; Hermione to the far side, kneeling over Harry.
"Sorry Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, "You don't have time for essays—I can assign some for later, but Mr. Potter's fate is in your hands."
"How bad?" Gia asked.
Snuffles leaned against Gia.
"I do not know," Madam Pomfrey said, "As to Mr. Weasley, I plan to leave him in a coma until the morning, only way either of these would comply with medical orders."
"Maybe all of us up here is a bad idea," said Arthur Weasley as he approached, "Muggles feel this place could use a bit of … straightening up."
"Bad idea," Hermione said, "They're already quite suspicious."
"The Ministry—" Arthur Weasley said.
"Warded against them," Hermione said, "Percy helped."
"Really?" Arthur Weasley asked.
"Focus on your patient," Madam Pomfrey told Hermione.
Hermione's wand out, she ran it over Harry.
"I'll wait for you to finish," Arthur Weasley said to Madam Pomfrey, "I've got the way back."
"It won't be much longer," Madam Pomfrey said, "Young Mr. Weasley's going to have sleep."
"And I have reading," Hermione said.
Madam Pomfrey lifted the St. Mungo's Book of Healing, handed it to Hermione.
"Read chapter seven," Madam Pomfrey said.
Hermione nodded. Gia went to sit on the bed.
"I wouldn't disturb him in the slightest," Madam Pomfrey said, "Mr. Potter has a stubborn amount of magic in him, but it needs time, how much, I don't know, because I'm not allowed to examine him, instead I must speculate based on what I see in young Mr. Weasley."
Gia sat back down on the floor, at the foot of the bed, stared at Harry's feet sticking out of the duvet, the toes each there, idle. She understood why Harry made Madam Pomfrey swear, still, didn't make this any easier.
Albus Dumbledore watched as Hannah Abbott flew against the unguarded Gryffindor goal posts.
"Four hundred thirty to one hundred thirty!" Finnigan announced.
It nearing darkness, Ernie Macmillan grabbed the Golden Snitch.
"HUFFLEPUFF WINS!" Oliver Wood shouted.
"What?" asked Seamus Finnigan.
"Stopped being fun five hours ago," Ernie Macmillan said as he flew by the top box, "I want dinner."
"Fine game," said the Minister.
Albus Dumbledore wondered why the Minister thought that; however, Albus stepped onto the carpet, sat on the chair. McGonagall walked while the carpet carried Albus not too far off the ground, back up to the castle. It entered through the front doors, up to the first floor. Yellow liquid oozed out from the trashed Hospital Wing.
"Another…" stammered Madam Pomfrey.
Albus stood.
"I heard you were unable to treat Mr. Potter," Albus Dumbledore said.
"You know the consequence of having him castrated was?" asked Madam Pomfrey.
Took Albus a moment.
"Yes," Madam Pomfrey said, "He made it absolutely clear to me—under no circumstances. Might not have envisioned today, but I'm morally obligated."
"And St. Mungo's…" Dumbledore stopped himself, St. Mungo's would be of no use to anybody with a lifetime ban.
"After I get this cleared and organized, again," Madam Pomfrey said, "I can see to helping them with a Healing course, but they need a Healer, one that Mr. Potter can trust not to maim him."
Albus unsure to exactly who sabotaged those brooms.
"You fool!" the Keeper snapped at the Seeker, "Very good jinx."
"Wasn't me!" the Seeker protested.
"Don't care if it was you or those you spilled the information to," the Seeker said, "You were out of line with risking his life."
"Potter killed playing Quidditch," the Seeker said, "That'd be poetic!"
"Know the bribes it took?" the Keeper said.
"I'm getting the playbook confused," the Seeker said.
"We get more if we keep Potter's heart beating and that of his three friends," the Keeper said, "Doesn't mean he gets to like it."
"Will Potter die?" the Seeker asked.
"It's to be the coronation," the Keeper said.
Date: Fri Sep 8 21:26:16 2023