Chapter 66: The Quidditch Cup
The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. Us third years had never had so much homework. Neville seemed close to a nervous collapse, and he wasn't the only one.
"Call this a holiday!" Seamus roared at the common room one afternoon. "The exams are ages away, what're they playing at?"
But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears.
I had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When I wasn't doing my own work, I was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality. I was so absorbed, I had even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks...sometimes.
Harry, meanwhile, had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Wood constantly reminded his team and anybody else that would listen) 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 Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.
The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since my brother Charlie had been Seeker. But not even Wood, wanted to win as much as Harry did. The Harry vs Malfoy feud was at its highest point ever. Malfoy was still making remarks about the mud-throwing incident in Hogsmeade and was even more furious that Harry had gotten away with it. Harry hadn't forgotten Malfoy's attempt to sabotage him in the match against Ravenclaw, but it was the matter of Buckbeak that seemed to had made him most determined to beat Malfoy in front of the entire school.
By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small fights broke out in the corridors, one in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.
Harry was catching a whole lot of shit. Slytherins would try to trip him up sometimes, Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber (Hermione taught me that joke) kept popping up wherever he went to try something. However, Wood had given instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere he went, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action. All of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd.
Harry seemed to be more concerned for his Firebolt's safety than his own. When he wasn't flying it, he locked it securely in his trunk and frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower at break times to check that it was still there.
All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books.
"I can't work, I can't concentrate," she said nervously.
There was a great deal of noise. Fred and George were dealing with the pressure by being more loud and more annoying than ever, Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were laughing at Fred's and George's jokes. Harry was sitting with Hermione and I, trying to talk about anything and everything but the match, while being incredibly nervous.
"You're going to be fine," Hermione told him, though her face screamed positively terrified.
"You've got a Firebolt!" I said, encouragingly.
"Yeah ..." said Harry, looking like he had an upset stomach.
"Ron!" I heard Harry hiss at me, breaking me out of my sleep. "Ron! Wake up!"
"Huh?" I groaned.
"I need you to tell me if you can see something!" he said, pointing out the window.
I peeked through eyes. "It's all dark, Harry." I muttered. "What're you on about?"
I thought I heard him say something along the lines of "down here", but it could have been in my dreams because I fell right back to sleep.
Waking up, I had seen that Harry had already left. Dean and Seamus was almost ready to leave.
"Thank you so much for waking me up, tossers." I said sarcastically to the grinning blokes.
"And have you roaring at me for waking you?" laughed Dean. "You're barking mad if I want to hear your gums."
"Will you two at least wait for me?" I asked, throwing a pillow at Dean's head, which he caught quickly. He would make a fine chaser.
"Sure, Ron." said Seamus. "We'll me in the common room"
I jumped out of bed, showered, and got dressed. I went down, ready to meet them, but they had left.
Slick gits.
Ginny was down so we both walked down to breakfast together.
When breakfast was over, I ran into a frazzled looking Hermione, who said she was heading to the library. I immediately had one of the first years in our house take her stuff back to the common room and tugged her along to the match. She needed a day to relax and have fun, and if I had to force her to, I would.
After protesting all the way to the stands, she finally shut her mouth when we sat down and waited for the match to start.
The team walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Most 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 losers were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile.
"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, best commentator in the world. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, 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 wave 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. However, Lee had a point. Malfoy was the smallest person on the Slytherin team. The rest of them were like moving boulders.
Flint and Wood approached each other and from the looks of it, tried to break each other's fingers.
The teams mounted their brooms and were off at the whistle.
"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinner of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! 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. Then, she was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.
"Sorry!" we heard Flint say as the crowd 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.
"Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!" boomed Madam Hooch's voice.
Alicia flew forward to take the penalty.
"Come on, Alicia!" yelled Lee. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"
"'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!"
"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 cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.
Cheating gits.
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!"
Harry looked as if he had seen the snitch near the Slytherin post. Malfoy soon sped after him.
Suddenly, the Slytherin beaters launched bludgers He turned the Firebolt upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick, the beaters, 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 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 Professor McGonagall 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 ever played. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia 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 Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.
The Snitch had disappeared again. Malfoy was still keeping close to Harry as he soared over the match, looking around for it once Gryffindor was fifty points ahead -
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 Wood; 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; Alicia 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 Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs.
And then everyone saw it. The Snitch was sparkling twenty feet above Harry.
Harry put on a huge burst of speed. He stretched out his hand, but Malfoy had thrown himself forward, grabbed hold of the Firebolt's tail, and was pulling it back.
Harry swung to hit Malfoy, but couldn't reach. Malfoy held fast to the broom, and 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 Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING BITCH!"
Professor McGonagall 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.
Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.
"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal - Montague scores -" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor..."
Harry was now marking Malfoy so closely their knees kept hitting each other. Harry wasn't going to let Malfoy anywhere near the Snitch...
"Get out of it, Potter!" Malfoy yelled in frustration as he tried to turn and found Harry blocking him.
"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON! SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty Points to twenty!"
Harry spotted the snitch again, this time as Malfoy had been diving for it. He seemed too far behind the bloody bastard to catch up, but sure enough, he managed to get level with him, flattening himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him , which he dodged.
Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom. He knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way and -
"YES!"
He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry soared above the crowd, as all except Slytherin jumped up and down chanting "POTTER! POTTER!" at the top of our lungs. All of us Gryffindors piled onto the field, passing Harry around as if he were a torch.
It felt like the latest and greatest birthday present. And seeing Malfoy's sour expression was the cherry on top.