Fortunately, the gossip dies down just in time for the first Quidditch game of the year, one week after the events of Halloween. Harry is especially nervous, because it's the first time he's facing off against Malfoy and the Slytherin team's technically superior brooms.
When Remus had taken Ron and Harry to get Ron a new wand, Remus had also insisted on buying the other three teams new Nimbus 2001s. Harry had protested, saying he was more than happy to use up his allowance for the year, but Remus would hear nothing of it (the quidditch supply store-owner had watched the whole exchange in delight).
Then, Remus had suggested to Harry that he should get a Nimbus 2001 as well and Harry flat-out refused. He knows it's silly, but that feels like too much of a betrayal to his broom to even consider.
Harry's been able to hold his own against the 2001s during practice, but now that he actually has to play a game against them, Harry's beginning to wonder if he's made a massive mistake (Oliver is quick to reassure him that he has nothing to worry about, but Harry can't shake the feeling that Oliver is also trying to reassure himself).
"You have until next year to figure out how to take me with you during games," Merlin warns as Harry hands her off to Hermione during breakfast, tongue flickering in annoyance.
"Or what?" Harry asks, amused.
"I'll eat Hedwig," Merlin decides after a moment.
Harry snorts. As if. Merlin loves Hedwig and they all know it.
"Try not to light anyone on fire this time," Harry says to Hermione instead of responding to Merlin's bluff.
"Don't worry Harry," Theo says without looking up from his book. "I won't let her."
Harry narrows his eyes.
"Not without me," Theo continues.
There it is.
Blaise sighs heavily as Harry turns a pleading expression towards him. "It's bad enough that I have to watch the game at all. Now I have to babysit a couple homicidal maniacs?"
"Watch it," Theo warns.
"No problem, Harry, is of course what I meant to say," Blaise amends hurriedly.
Ron and Daphne crash into the benches suddenly, apparently having spent the morning getting ready for the game.
"Damn," Harry whistles, staring at the little snakes and snitches painted on Ron's face. "Are those moving?"
"Sure are," Ron says proudly. "I think Daphne should go pro!"
"Please," Daphne says, rolling her eyes. Her face is similarly painted. "I have grander aspirations than that."
"Sorry for the compliment, I guess?" Ron says, confused.
"Anyone know where Neville is?" Hermione asks suddenly.
"Oh, he's not making the game today," Harry says. "Something about the weather bringing out the best in trees, whatever that means."
Harry knows exactly what that means, but his friends have made their thoughts clear on Neville's foray into wandmaking and Harry doesn't want to sit through another wand lecture if he can help it.
"Harry!" Oliver calls, and Harry hurriedly shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth as he gathers his things and stands up.
"Gotta go! See you guys after the game!"
His friends all chorus their goodbyes and well-wishes as Harry leaves to follow the rest of the team down to the pitch.
The weather is muggy and damp, and Harry wouldn't be surprised if thunder rolled in at any moment. Still, the weather isn't anywhere close to how bad it would have to be for the game to be canceled, so Harry and the others head to the locker room to get ready.
"Alright," Oliver starts. "Thanks to an extremely generous benefactor-" here he winks at Harry and Harry goes a bit lightheaded "-we're as evenly matched to the Slytherins as before- the only wildcard is Malfoy. Harry, you have my full confidence: Malfoy's got nothing on our youngest-seeker-in-a-century."
Angelina gives Harry a hearty pat on the back as Alicia and Katie cheer. Harry feels his face go bright red.
"Hey Harry," one of the twins leans in. "Are you sick of that one yet?"
"Or should we all start calling you that too?" The other twin suggests, eyes twinkling.
"I'll set Theo on you," Harry mutters.
"Oh no, George, what'll we do?"
George (presumably) shakes his head sadly. "Against a twelve-year old of his caliber? Nothing to be done, Freddy."
"If you're all done," Alicia cuts in flatly, "we have a game to get to."
As if on cue, a piercing whistle sounds from outside of the locker room.
"We've got this one in the bag!" Oliver says, ushering everyone up and out. "Play hard out there!"
As per usual, the stands are full of a hearty mix of cheers and boos as the two teams stride forward to meet in the middle. Malfoy scowls as his eyes catch on the Gryffindor team's brooms (according to a gleeful Ron, he'd really thrown a tantrum when he'd heard what Remus had done) but his scowl turns into a smirk as Harry catches his gaze.
Harry resists the urge to glare, and instead turns his attention to Madam Hooch and the two team captains. They shake hands, and Madam Hooch holds up a hand.
"On my count! Three… two… one!" She whistles, and the two teams take off.
Harry gets up high as fast as he can, resolutely ignoring Malfoy who seems to be content circling the pitch. He watches as his teammates and the Slytherins dash around each other. It's a damn good thing he'd written to Remus: the Nimbus 2001s are insanely fast. Harry can hardly follow the game, the chasers and beaters flying around looking more like blurs than people.
"Alright there, scarhead?" Malfoy jeers, zipping up to Harry.
Harry rolls his eyes. He's not planning on responding but even if he had wanted to, he's suddenly too busy ducking and rolling his broom to avoid the bludger that had missed him by inches.
"Watch it!" One of the twins yells, zooming by with his bat at the ready.
He gives the bludger a solid thwack and sends it careening towards a Slytherin chaser.
"That was a close one-what the hell?"
The bludger has turned midair, and is rapidly building up speed as it shoots towards Harry again.
The twin gives it another whack and Harry wastes no time in flying off. The weather has gone from muggy to straight up rainy, fat raindrops pelting Harry's face and arms as he dives to avoid the bludger which has come around again.
By this point, the other twin is next to Harry, expertly twirling the beater's bat to keep the bludger from leaving a bludger-shaped hole in Harry's skull.
"What- is- going- on?" The twin pants as Harry dodges and weaves.
"I don't know! I can't look for the snitch like this, though!" Harry grits out.
"Your priorities are messed up!" Says the other twin, flying next to Harry as well.
"Slytherin scores! 60-nil!" Lee's amplified voice announces.
"Shit!" Harry yells. "You need to do your jobs!"
"Oliver!" One of the twins screams, ignoring Harry. "Call a time-out!"
Oliver seems to catch on and flies down to Madam Hooch, who blows her whistle and brings the game to a stop. The crowd mutters and the Slytherin side especially boos and hisses, but Harry is too busy bringing his broom down to the pitch to pay them any mind.
"What's going on up there?" Oliver asks, clearly frustrated but trying not to show it. "Alicia was fighting for her life out there!"
Alicia scowls and nods, shaking her shoulder out.
"Alicia was fighting for her life?" One of the twins says. He has George's number on his jersey. "What about Harry?"
"What about Harry?" Katie asks, landing heavily; Angelina following directly behind her.
"What's going on? That bludger was being super weird," Angelina says.
"Exactly! One of the bludgers is trying to kill Harry!" George says.
"The Slytherins must have done something to it!" Fred agrees.
Oliver looks worried, but shakes his head. "Impossible. We checked before the game- they were all tamper-free."
"That is not what an un-tampered bludger looks like," George assures.
The crowd is starting to get impatient, and Harry decides it's time to get back into the air.
"Doesn't matter," Harry says. Fred and George stare at him incredulously. "We have to start the game up again or we'll be disqualified. You two do your job, leave it to me to dodge. I can't look for the snitch with you two around anyways."
"Harry," George says. "You can't be serious.
"That bludger is out for your blood!" Fred says, waving his arms around like that'll somehow change Harry's mind.
"Trust me," Harry pleads, looking Oliver right in the eye.
Oliver worries his bottom lip, but sighs and nods. Fred and George turn and look at him as one, betrayed expression painting their faces.
"If Harry says he can do it, then he can. Fred, George, help where you can but don't focus too much on the rogue bludger. Harry, you need to get up there and finish the game, okay? I'm talking last year's game against Hufflepuff level speediness, alright?"
Harry nods determinedly and remounts his broom as Oliver signals for Madam Hooch to restart the game.
The twins both shoot glares at Harry, but do as their captain had said. The rain is falling heavier than before now, but Harry pays it no mind as he shoots off, keeping his ears peeled for the sound of the bludger whooshing behind him.
On the bright side, the wayward bludger makes it so Malfoy steers clear of Harry. Harry can't blame him, as the bludger narrowly misses him for the seventh time.
Harry gains height, wheeling his broom around and around, scanning for the snitch. The lack of sunshine makes it difficult to clock the golden ball. The bludger swings around again and Harry does a complicated sort of vertical twist to avoid it.
"Practicing for the ballet?" Malfoy sneers, floating nearby.
Apparently the draw of mocking Harry outweighs the risk of the bludger after all.
Harry goes to roll his eyes when they catch on the snitch- floating right by Malfoy's ear. Malfoy isn't a bad flier, not at all; but Harry thinks he might not be cut out for the seeker position.
Harry tries not to be obvious about it as he swings his broom back into prime position to chase after the snitch. He's so focused on keeping Malfoy from noticing the snitch that he doesn't pay enough attention to the bludger.
With a wet-sounding crack, Harry's arm is suddenly broken.
Harry's vision whites out in pain, but he has the presence of mind to do a quick flip to avoid the bludger coming back for round two. He manages to sort of spiral in the direction of Malfoy and the snitch, holding his arm close to his chest. He'll heal it in a second- for now, his priority is the snitch.
"Wh-" Malfoy starts, swooping away from Harry.
Harry grits his teeth in pain. It hurts so bad he's starting to feel nauseous, but the snitch is… right… there!
Gripping to his broom tightly with just his legs, Harry's uninjured hand clasps around the snitch. Snitch secured, Harry is suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness that has him sliding halfway off his broom.
He shifts his weight so his broom is angled towards the ground, but he's spending so much effort on not passing out that he can't manage to land any more gracefully than sort of dropping from his broom and onto the muddy pitch from a couple meters up.
He lands on his bad arm and the pain is so blindingly sharp that Harry passes out.
When he wakes up, he sees the bloodless and muddy faces of his teammates crowded around him. Oliver especially looks horrified.
"Don't worry," Harry slurs, waving the snitch. "Got it."
"I am not even a little bit concerned with that right now," Oliver says, eyes darting to look at Harry's arm.
Oh, right. Harry makes the mistake of following Oliver's gaze and it takes everything in him not to black out again: his arm is definitely not supposed to bend that way, and bones, as a rule, should not be visible.
He comes to again- he must have fainted after all. Now he's propped up against a worried Oliver. Harry tries to sit up all the way, but Oliver holds him firm.
"Just wait, Harry. Help will be here soon," Oliver says. He sounds sort of like he's trying to reassure himself.
"No, no," Harry mumbles. "I got it."
He grabs for his magic, missing a couple times (Harry really should've grabbed onto his magic the second he realized he'd be going up against a bloodthirsty bludger, but had been more preoccupied with winning the game) before he manages to snag it. He shakily readies it when-
"Clear out of the way! Let me through!" A self-important Lockhart cries, wading through the gathering crowd.
Harry tightens his hold on his magic as Lockhart falls to his knees and readies his wand.
"Do not-" Harry grits out, but it's too late.
Lockhart, with a wave of his wand and some nonsense spell, manages to vanish the bones in Harry's hand and forearm.
Harry stares disbelievingly at his now floppy arm for a moment before the pain hits. It's much worse than it had been before. Harry barely manages to roll over enough to keep from throwing up on Oliver.
"Whoops," Lockhart says, grinning sheepishly. "At least it's not broken any more!"
Oliver looks like he's on the verge of going for the man's throat, which is all sorts of surreal.
"Harry!"
Oh, good. His friends are here. Harry looks up, squinting blearily. He can't tell which friends, is the only problem.
"Ron- or who… whoever you are…" Harry says, blackness edging around his vision. He distantly registers Merlin climbing up to his shoulders.
"Yes?" One of them says.
Sounds Ron-like enough, Harry supposes.
"Dont… don't let Theo kill him… not a good enough reason…" Harry gasps. "Not… Yet…"
"I mean- I'll try?" Probably-Ron says.
"What?" Lockhart chuckles nervously. "What does that mean?"
Harry, seeing that his message has been received and acknowledged, slips into unconsciousness once more.