Chapter 29
One Gryffindor to save them all
3 November 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
In the Gryffindor Common Room that evening, Leo Black, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom were struggling over their Potions homework. All three were in a very bad mood, having had to support Professor Severus Snape in the afternoon. Melting one cauldron, earning two evenings of detention and losing twenty points for Gryffindor had not made the day any better. The red-haired member of the Golden Trio was showing a far angrier expression than his two friends though, which might have a thing or two with his severely damaged wand. Instead of removing ink strains from his Potions assignment, the magical focus was igniting the parchment his essay was currently written on. The homework, already of poor quality, had now good odds of earning his owner a 'T'.
Fuming as much as the flames which had risen over his homework in the last minutes, Ron shut down his Potions book. Seconds later, Neville and Leo imitated him. They all loathed the Potions class, a feeling made it easier by the teacher overseeing their work. Unlike the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw who dealt with the mediocre Junior Professor Whitehead, the second-years Gryffindor and Slytherin had to endure the presence of Professor Snape. The Head of Slytherin had never hidden his disdain of the Lions and his favouritism of his own House; therefore the New Marauders and their housemates had reduced their interest in the course to the potential application of liquids for pranks of all kinds. A series of 'P' and 'D' had not helped change their opinion. Why do your best writing a ten-inch essay on the third property of Dragon Blood when there were far more interesting places to explore. Moreover, the revelation of Professor Binns about the Chamber of Secrets this afternoon in History class was obviously taking priority over an assignment Snape wouldn't grade fairly.
"Who can it be, though?" Asked Leo Black, pronouncing at high voice what every member of the four Houses had discussed t least once in the last forty-eight hours. "Who is the Heir of Slytherin?"
"It's fairly obvious I think." Said Ron in feigned surprise. "Who do we know who wants all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"
The youngest son of Arthur Weasley looked at Neville, seeking his approbation. Leo looked back, seemingly unconvinced.
"If you're talking about Malfoy..."
"Of course I am!" Said Ron. "You heard him: "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him..."
"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" said Leo sceptically. "Don't get me wrong, I hate the blonde git, but if he was really able to open the Chamber of Secrets for one year and a half, why do it now?"
"Look at his family!" Said Ron vehemently. The disgust between the Weasley and Malfoy families had existed well before one member of the current generation had been sorted, and it had not gotten better in the last months. "The whole lot of them have always been in Slytherin, they could easily be descendants of Salazar Slytherin. His father's definitely enough, as his the rest of his family. They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries! Handing it down, father to son …"
"Well," said Leo in a cautious manner, "I suppose it's possible, but it could always be someone else..."
"It could also be Potter!" Proposed Weasley. "You all saw how pale she's been since the week-end, I bet she could have used a Dark Ritual to open the Chamber!"
The black-haired Ravenclaw had intervened to defend Granger's cat from Ron, a fact Ron had taken rather badly and it did not help Alexandra Potter dragged a very dark reputation from her traitor of father. On the other hand, it was true the last Potter free to walk the soil of Britain had not looked in perfect health yesterday. Unfortunately for the two fifth-years Ravenclaws who had thought this was an opportunity for some pay-back, the second-best of the second-years had trounced them in magical duel. The head of House Ravenclaw had assigned the older boys months of detention until the end of the year. Best to walk on eggs with this witch.
"This is just speculation." Said darkly Leo. "It could be Greengrass. It could be Nott. Zabini, Carrow, Rosier, Mulciber and other Slytherins have plenty of Death Eaters among their relatives. They have dark heirlooms too; maybe one has the power to open the Chamber. Each of them could have a claim to the Slytherin Lordship."
"Exactly. So how do we find and prove who is behind the attack?" Asked Neville.
"There might be a way," said Leo, throwing glances around to ensure no Prefect was in the vicinity. "My father told me of a Potion they used in their fifth-year for one of their big pranks. The Polyjuice Potion."
Neville frowned, having heard the name somewhere but failing to remember the major details. Their third member was however in the dark.
"What's that?" Said Ron.
"It transforms you into somebody else for an hour or more." Explained Leo. "So we could change into three Slytherins, get into the Slytherin Common Room to see Malfoy or the others Snakes we suspect and ask them a few questions without realising it's us."
"And if Malfoy is boasting about it in the Slytherin Common Room, we will know about it immediately." Remarked Neville. "I like it."
"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me." Affirmed Ron, his face showing hostility at the idea of becoming a member of the Viper's Den, even for a limited period of time. "What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"
"The issue is not here, frankly." Told Leo. "Polyjuice wears off rapidly, without any secondary effects." Well, his father had not spoken of any when he had taken it with his friends, so no need to alarm his friends about minor issues. "The first major problem will be to get hold of the recipe. It's in a book called Most Potent Potions in the Restricted Section of the library."
"Not a problem." Said Neville, rubbing his hands in anticipation of the prank in the preparation stage. "I will steal a signature of this pompous imbecile of Lockhart next time we have class with him. Or maybe even butter him with a few compliments and obtain his signature for real. He is stupid enough to believe we would just be interested in the theory. What's the second problem?"
"Obtaining the ingredients." The assets under his father's control in House Black weren't including Potion shops or everything would have been much simpler. "Some of them are pretty rare and I'm sure some of them aren't sold to Licensed Potioneers."
"We will steal them in Snape's private stores." Said Ron in a bored tone and his two accomplices approved with wide smirks. It would not be the first time something had left the classroom, although these ingredients would need a bigger diversion, not being available for lower-years students.
"The Potion is a month-long to brew." Opposed Leo.
"We will use one of the abandoned rooms on the fourth-floor we discovered at the beginning of the year." Countered Neville. "Anything else?"
"Recruiting a girl for this operation." Said Leo in a categorical tone. "Because I'm not transforming into one. And girls like Potter or Mulciber will not confide in boys."
"Okay. I will recruit Lavender or Parvati for it."
"And lastly, we must absolutely not get caught for this one." Leo affirmed, fixing the rest of the Golden Trio with a total lack of humour. "I'm serious, mates. If we are discovered, expulsion from Hogwarts is definitely possible. The Potion is restricted and I do not want to be tried in front of the whole Wizengamot."
"Very well, we will be extremely careful" Affirmed Neville, taking assurance at finally seeing Malfoy getting his true comeuppance. "Let's begin our plan to discover the Heir of Slytherin. After all, what can go wrong?"
"It's too much work." Groaned Ron. "If you made Malfoy fall of his broom on Saturday, it would save us a lot of trouble."
6 November 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
"You seem to have well recuperated from your ordeal."
"Thanks a lot Morag, your approval means a lot to me." Replied Alexandra in an ironic tone which proved at least to herself she had her retort skills fully functional. It would have been better if the red-haired Ravenclaw in front of her didn't laugh at her right this moment. "Now if this Transfiguration assignment was so easy..." She made a sign of the hand to the quantity of papers spread on the table they were occupying in the library.
Morag smiled to her, but inside Alexandra knew Morag had been very worried about her. Samhain was a taxing celebration for under-age witches and wizards at the best of times, including ritual magic and staying awake during the whole night. The Potter Heiress had it worse, though. Because there had been no intervention of a Light or Dark Power for Samhain in over a century, not one of the Samhain participants had anticipated one of the crows of the Celtic Goddess Morrigan to make an appearance.
Alexandra's reason had barely survived this encounter with the Crow Avatar with her mind intact. As Lady Isobel MacDougal had explained her after the fact, in a few seconds Alexandra had seen the future. Or maybe it would be more exact to say the Potter Heiress had seen possibilities of the future. Thousands of possible paths, at the same time. And so many of them ended in bloodshed, carnage and utter ruin. Thanks to the Valar the visions had faded after several minutes. As a matter of fact they had faded so quickly that even with a good memory remembering the details were foggy and indistinct.
Only the voice had not dissipated. A voice apparently she was the sole witch to hear. "You will lead my armies to the final battle." Extremely positive message carried on black wings. But then the Goddess of Fate and Battle, also known as the Phantom Queen, had never been considered a gentle deity. The members of House MacDougal assisting to this mystical scene had seen the crow and the green flames, but no vision had been given to them. Lucky them.
When Alexandra had woken up on Sunday afternoon, it had been a weird sensation. In her mind, she was exhausted while at the same time her body and her magic felt completely re-energised. According to the few explanations Morag's parents had given her before she fell asleep again, it was a combination of the Morrigan's influence and the Samhain ritual. Participating for the first time in a ceremony of the Old Ways, her mind needed time to adapt while her magic and her flesh harmonised with each other. When she had woke up on early Monday morning, Alexandra felt...different. Her appearance was still the same, her visage maybe a bit paler and her eyes a bit more brilliant, but it was inwardly that the changes were the deepest. Well except a fading crow-shaped mark on her right shoulder. But no one could see it so it wasn't a big deal right?
Alexandra felt... freer. Free in her body. Her perception of magic had improved, her wandless magic was again answering to her commands. Before leaving MacDougal Manor, Alexandra had seen the magic bathing the manor when the sun rose over the hills of Ireland. It had been exhilarating. And privately in her mind, she admitted something in her had changed. Alexandra had seen the power and the magnificence of the Old Ways, and she would remember it until her very last breath.
Morag's parents had apparently understood it too, because she had been demanded to swear an Unbreakable Vow. If the Ministry learned from someone what had transpired at Samhain, every participant would be sentenced to a one-way ticket for Azkaban. Understandably, no one from House MacDougal wanted to take the risk. Morag had sworn the same vow after her, to protect the secret from this Samhain. All the participants, members and allies of House MacDougal, had done the same before leaving.
In some ways the following week at Hogwarts had been maddening. She couldn't explain anything to Hermione or Nigel, despite the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl being very insistent to know why she had been absent during the week-end. Nigel was taking it far more discreetly, and as he was from a relatively old pure-blood family, Alexandra believed he had a good idea of where Morag and she had gone. The second reason why this week had been discouraging was her rapid tendency to become tired. Not enough to beat two idiots who had believed she was a good target of course. Her magic was now answering like in a dream, no matter like if she used a wand or no, but Alexandra was crumbling into her bed two hours before curfew, no energy left in her. Fortunately, it was Friday evening, and she was inch by inch recovering her physical resistance.
The third problem had nothing to do with Samhain. It was the matter of the Heir of Slytherin, an issue which caused no small amount of fear in the corridors and the Common Rooms of Hogwarts. Speaking of which, here came Hermione, with poor Nigel carrying a mountain of books from the legends and myths' section.
"Still searching the Heir of Slytherin, Hermione?" Asked Morag.
"Yes, and she's using me as a mule." Complained Nigel, pushing the pile of books he was carrying on the table.
"Hermione, stop using Nigel as your mule." Ordered mockingly Alexandra, trying to find a good conclusion for her Transfiguration homework. Somehow 'why is this principle so complicated' wasn't feeling all right. Maybe-
"Can I borrow Morag instead?" Asked Hermione.
"Hey!" Exclaimed the red-haired Ravenclaw, working on her Astronomy chart.
"You don't seem to be really interested in searching for the Heir of Slytherin." Remarked the Gryffindor girl with her habitual bluntness and lack of tact.
"To be honest, I'm not." Said Alexandra.
"Why? It's..." But Morag had no intention to let her bushy-haired friend finish this sentence.
"The business of the teachers, not ours?" Proposed Morag. "It's not like there's many clues to follow, Hermione. For all we know, the whole incident is the plan of one a seventh-year Gryffindor who found a Petrifaction Spell in the Restricted Section of the library, used it against Filch and wrote a threatening message on the Wall to blame the Slytherins."
"No Gryffindor would do something like that!" Protested Hermione, ever the loyal Lion, even as two-thirds of her own House would be ready to throw her to the wolves at the first opportunity.
"Perhaps not." Replied Alexandra, who personally thought a few jackasses in the ranks of the Lions had the morals to do exactly that. "But can you say the same thing about every other House? I know I can't." Ravenclaws had a fascination for everything which explored the boundaries of magic, and sometimes cruelty able to equal the Slytherins themselves. One of Alexandra's own housemates could very well have acted on his own.
"I'm more interested how the culprit managed to turn Filch into stone with everyone save the Golden Trio in the Great Hall." Intervened Morag. "Unless it was Longbottom and his accomplices all along."
"Perhaps a time-delayed spell?" Suggested Nigel, choosing the former rather than the latter. No surprise, he was sleeping next to Longbottom and his friends. If the Boy-Who-Lived was really behind the attack, Nigel was not exactly in the best position possible.
"Or a Rune-based trap?" Added Alexandra. "I threw a look about this book last week..." Her voice trailed off as the daughter of Lily Potter reflected that last week Hogwarts had been somewhat at peace and the Powers of Magic had been just legend. Sometimes Alexandra acknowledged, the rhythm of revelations shattering her existence was both a blessing and a curse.
"Well, if you help me searching in these books, it will be far easier to see who's the Heir and how he did it." Huffed Hermione, who stubbornly in good Gryffindor held firmly her position in the face of contrary ideas.
"You want to search the genealogy of Salazar Slytherin?" Asked Morag. Seeing Hermione nod positively, Morag continued. "I can spare you the effort, Hermione. The last descendants of Salazar Slytherin were House Gaunt."
"You said 'were'. Does that mean?"
"The House has been declared extinct officially by the Wizengamot in the 1940s." Confirmed the MacDougal Heiress. "Not that it was a great loss. The Gaunts became famous in the nineteenth century to marry between cousins so frequently they made the inbreeding of House Black minor in comparison. At one point I think they were nicknamed...err, no it's not a name best named repeated in public."
"Disgusting." Declared Hermione, her prominent teeth shining when the brown-haired girl groaned in disapproval.
"Well, they paid for it." Said Morag, rolling her shoulders in amusement. "By the end, they were so poor they had only their pure-blood belief left to them. All their alliances had been broken because they believed every noble family was beneath them. As they were violent and practised the Dark Arts, the Ministry was watching them with a very bad eye...the last members died at Azkaban and their House found its end."
"But there could be other Heirs?" Asked Nigel timidly.
"Possible." Alexandra shrugged as she put her last touches on this irritating Transfiguration conclusion. "After, Zacharias Smith is a direct descendant from Helga Hufflepuff. Who knows how many persons in the school can trace their lineage to the Founders?"
"I heard one tale from my father, once." Said Nigel. "Four heirs of the Founders could nominate the Headmaster of Hogwarts."
"Just a good legend with no basis in reality." Said Morag. "The Board of governors is fully in control of this nomination."
"But if it was true?" Asked Hermione in an interested tone.
"Then...nothing." Said Alexandra. "There is no Heir of Ravenclaw."
"How can you be sure?"
Morag and Alexandra exchanged a glance. While not exactly a taboo subject outside Ravenclaw Tower, the point was not exactly discussed when other Houses were able to hear it. This was not a happy story after all.
"The ghost of our House is called the Grey Lady. But when she was alive, her name was Helena. Helena Ravenclaw." The two Gryffindors widened their eyes in realisation. "She was Rowena Ravenclaw's sole and only daughter, and she died without children."
"Oh." Said Hermione, deflating under the disappointment. "And Gryffindor?"
"Morag?" Alexandra did not bother turning her head in direction of her housemate.
"The problem with Gryffindor is not who are his descendants. It's rather who is not."
"What?" This one Hermione had not see coming. Not a surprise, this was never published in the books printed in this century.
"Godric Gryffindor, in spite of the propaganda by Dumbledore and the Light Party sprouts, was a womaniser without equal and delighted in adulterate relationships. He loved spending his nights with women... and the women loved spending their nights with him. I would not be surprised if he had one child per magical village of Britain before he died at the ripe old age of 174. There may be thousands of witches and wizards who can trace their lineage back to him nowadays. "
"Back to the subject ladies, please." Said Nigel as Hermione looked ready to throw to the throat of Morag for having the temerity to criticize the memory of Godric Gryffindor. "To sum up, we have no idea who could be the Heir of Slytherin?"
"Nope." Said Alexandra cheerfully. "We don't even know if it's a real Heir or just a fake."
"There are still ways to investigate." Proposed Hermione, definitely averse to wait for the storm to pass. "Professor Binns said Salazar Slytherin was a wizard who wanted to exclude the Muggle-borns and those he deemed not worthy to use magic. If we make a list about the Slytherins who follows these ideas, we will have potential suspects."
"You're thinking about Malfoy." Said Morag.
"Yes." Affirmed forcefully Hermione. "When he discovered the scene, it was like he knew beforehand something had happened."
"I don't follow you there." Alexandra told while closing her eyes and channelling a bit of magic through her arm to activate her wand in small green sparks. "Malfoy is a buffoon and the shame of Slytherin House. Oh and he's also a coward. Each time he's attacked, he goes hiding behind the robes of Professor Snape. Doing a petrifaction of the caretaker during the Halloween Feast requires planning, magical skill in the Dark Arts, subtlety and ruthlessness. All things this little blonde daddy-boy completely lacks or Longbottom and the Golden Trio would not succeed so many times in pranking him."
Her three friends studying with her not protesting this description, the Potter Heiress assumed her judgement of Draco Malfoy was not completely off the mark.
"He could still be aware of something." Objected Hermione, although her tone was not transpiring confidence.
"Or he is an idiot which doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut." Indicated Alexandra, not bothering to hide which version she though the most likely. "Anyway, we're going to be rapidly fixed about this whole mess, I think."
"What do you mean?" Yep, Hermione was a very curious person. Who would have thought?
"There's a Quidditch match tomorrow, remember? If the person guilty of the attack wants to try again, he will put his plan in action then. All the Professors are assisting to the match, so the way is free at Hogwarts to prepare an evil plan or two."
"Then we have just to search the school during the match and arrest him in the act!"
"Absolutely not." Said Alexandra in a cold voice. "We have no information how Filch was turned into stone. We don't know how to counter it. If we try to apprehend the culprit, we could very well all die." Fighting a gigantic salamander of fire and darkness and escaping by pure dumb luck had been quite enough for the ongoing year, thank you very much. The Morrigan may have decreed Alexandra was to participate in a final battle, but the raven-haired witch doubted a prank reeking Dark Magic was it.
"But..."
"Let the Professors their chance to stop the Heir or whoever did the attack, Hermione." Said Morag. "We are students. The safety of Hogwarts is not in our domain of competences."
"Okay. And if they are more attacks? If the Professors fail to find the attacker?"
"Warn the Aurors and the Ministry." Answered Nigel.
"You aren't curious what happened on Halloween?"
"Of course we are curious, Hermione. It's just that we are Ravenclaws." Laughed Morag.
"Which means unlike the Gryffindors, we take the time to think, oh...thirty seconds before jumping into the action." Finished Alexandra. Before adding when Morag gave her an incredulous stare. "Some of us have more Gryffindor in us than we care to admit. Fine, trouble tends to find me wherever I go." The twelve-year old added, taking a sheepish expression.
"That I can very well believe." Grumbled Morag. Alexandra sent her a reproachful look. It was not her fault that a goddess had decided to invite herself to a Samhain ritual! She had not sent an invitation ticket for the Morrigan to appear! Twenty-four hours before Halloween-Samhain, Alexandra had no idea herself she was going to participate.
"So what do we do now?"
"Me, I'm going to finish this Astronomy chart of Saturn." Affirmed Alexandra. "After that, I have an appointment with Flitwick. I want to know if he can teach me swordsmanship."
Their Head of House had been forced to abandon their Duelling lessons under the fallacious pretext it would be too unfair for the other second-years of Hogwarts. But handling blades and other steel weapons had not been in the program for the last five decades. Of course Dumbledore would probably find another pretext in time. But the Headmaster was rarely present at the Head Table, and practically never seen in the corridors. It would take time for him to formulate an answer.
"That is going to fill your schedule." Warned with good humour Nigel.
"I will survive." Sighed Alexandra in a theatrical manner. "And if I have any time left, I will spend a moment praying that Longbottom and Malfoy kill themselves each other on the Pitch tomorrow, sending the Heir of Slytherin in the afterlife with them."
"Not going to happen. We need a Gryffindor to save the day at the end, remember?"
7 November 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
The weather could be described as rainy when the two Quidditch teams entered the Pitch on Saturday morning. A less charitable observer could even have described the rains falling over the isolated Scottish land where Hogwarts stood as a true deluge. The spectators, students and teachers, were protected from the fury of the elements by the charmed stands which repelled the water. The players had not this chance. Progressing in the puddle of mud the stadium had become after the torrential rains of late October, the fourteen players and Professor Hooch were already drenched, and the match hadn't yet started. For the hundredth time, Alexandra wished the first matches of Quidditch were programmed in early October or in late November when snow replaced the heavy rains. Despite the many Warming and Impervious Charms casted, their place in the stands was not a pleasant place to be. Of course the Quidditch players were facing worse conditions, entering the stadium as the elements redoubled in intensity.
"Here comes the team of Gryffindor!" Shouted Lee Jordan who as usual commented the match, with Professor McGonagall keeping an eye on him. "Wood, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Longbottom! A very good team, who unlike some I could tell, doesn't choose his players by the size of their father's fortune..."
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry, Professor." The commentator's tone was showing no sign of worry or excuse. Which was fair, because as every student in Hogwarts knew, that was exactly how a blonde imbecile had won his place in the team. "Now here comes the team of Slytherin, led by Captain Marcus Flint. Montague and Pucey as Chasers, Bletchley as Keeper, Bole and Derrick as Beaters. Only change's from last year, Draco Malfoy has replaced Higgs. Sorry Terence. You deserved better than this slimy blonde to steal your place..."
"JORDAN!"
Finally, the teams of Gryffindor and Slytherin faced off each other in the middle of the terrain. It was all a symbol. The Slytherins, all massive and bulky with the exception of their Seeker Draco Malfoy. Each of the players under Marcus Flint had a flashing Nimbus 2001 in their hands. All were wearing the green and silver of their House. Like last year, there was no girl among the Slytherin players.
By contrast, the Gryffindors had three girls, who despite not being thin and small were quite making this very impression against the troll-featured Snakes. The Lion Captain, Oliver Wood, was not a monster of musculature either. As for the Weasley Twins, they were quite elongated compared to the green gorillas playing Beaters.
Professor Hooch went near the two captains, spoke a few words to encourage the two teams to play nicely, and then mounted her broom. One by one, the red and the green players imitated her, launching regards to their counterparts of the other side which in spite of the distance could be seen as particularly venomous.
One trill in the referee's whistle and fifteen brooms soared in the air, pursued by the two black Bludgers and the Chasers trying to pass the Quaffle between themselves.
"And here we go!" Shouted Jordan. "Bell who passes to Johnson, Johnson to Spinnet, Spinnet to Bell! Nice feint of Bell who tries to shoot...no! The Quaffle is intercepted by Pucey who gives to Montague, Montague passes Johnson and gives to Pucey again. Pucey races to the posts defended by Wood, he's so fast with his Nimbus 2001... Pucey scores! 10-0 for Slytherin!"
Like a single man, one quarter of the stands, covered in green and silver, stood up to celebrate the goal. A magical animation rose in the rain, a great snake planting his fangs in the throat of a dying lion. Faster than arrows, the seven members of the Slytherin Quidditch team made a lap of honour before taking back their positions.
"This is going to be a thrashing..." Groaned Nigel to the left of Alexandra. After a small moment of deliberation, he and Hermione had decided to sit with Morag, Alexandra and the rest of the Ravenclaw second-years. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were sporting red and gold banners, decorations and clothes today, therefore it was not a betrayal of their own House. On the other hand, Alexandra did not expect this very logic to reach the brains of the house supposed to be noble and the symbol of chivalry. Especially if Gryffindor lost the match.
"Flint avoids Bell and misses throwing Bell off her broom! Flint passes to Pucey, Pucey passes to Montague, Montague shoots and scores! 20-0 for Slytherin!"
"Have you seen that?" Asked Alexandra.
"What? Flint killing one of our Chasers?" Demanded bitterly Nigel. "Or the second goal of a long series we are about to receive?"
"No, I was speaking about Flint missing shattering the stands by inches."
"Yeah, I saw it." Said Morag. "He might have done it on purpose."
"Don't think so. Look!" Graham Montague had just narrowly avoided smashing on the Slytherin goal posts.
"They have problems with their speed and their braking." Realised Morag.
"Normal. We knew from the start of October skilled professional players had difficulties with the 2001. Flint and his band of bullies are many things, but they are not professionals."
The next ten minutes of the game proved her assumption right. The formations of the Slytherins were becoming more and more erratic. For all their training during September and October, the House of the cunning and the ambitious had not played a match in real conditions before this and now they had major difficulties controlling their world-class brooms against the skilled Gryffindor girls playing Chasers. Adrian Pucey marked another goal, but Angelina of Johnson answered one minute later by a feint which left Miles Bletchley without reaction. The score was now 30-10 for Slytherin.
Just as three-quarters of the Quidditch stadium began to wonder if Gryffindor was going to counter the play of their opponents, all the eyes went into the direction of Neville Longbottom. The Gryffindor Seeker had until this point contented to search for the Snitch and ignore the loud mockeries of his Slytherin counterpart, but this strategy was destroyed as one of the Bludgers was now focusing on the Boy-Who-Lived and ignoring all the other players.
Immediately, one of the Weasley Twins tried to intercept the Bludger but his efforts turned out to be insufficient for the challenge he was asked for. The red-haired Beater managed to protect Longbottom, but only barely, soon forcing his Twin to come helping him. The Slytherins, now at six against four, did not leave this opportunity pass and marked three new goals by the intermediary of Flint and Pucey. Oliver Wood called for a time-out. The score was now 60-10 for Slytherin.
"The Slytherins have tampered this Bludger." Affirmed Morag. "What does Wood wait to declare a tie?"
"There's a rule for Bludgers targeting a single player?" Asked Alexandra, regretting the words just as they left her mouth. Of course Quidditch had a rule like that! This was a sport which had had to officially ban decapitation of an opponent with a broadsword! Or an axe. Or a club. Or...the more she thought about it, Quidditch fanatics were really...fanatics.
"You have not read Quidditch Through the Ages, haven't you?" Morag rhetorically replied. "Tampering a Bludger happens all the time in League competitions. Most of the time, it's bloodthirsty supporters who are responsible and good luck to find the culprits in the stands. The thousands of witches and wizards gathered are staying tight-lipped."
"All right. So Wood should have called to replay the match another time with a normal Bludger?"
"Yeah. Or opened an inquiry. I mean, the one who enchanted this Bludger did a sloppy job. The Bludger has become predictable, no matter what happens, he goes after Longbottom."
"No subtlety, just brute force. Like Flint."
"Look, the Gryffindors are mounting their brooms again. They intend to continue playing."
"That's...insane." Said Alexandra, not adding loudly 'like this entire school'. "With a Bludger constantly on him, Longbottom can't catch the Snitch."
"They must have figured a new strategy." Said Hermione, who had stopped reading her book and now watched with worry the drama unfolding in the air.
"I hope for them it's a good one." Said Nigel in a dark tone. "Or we are going to assist to Longbottom's funeral."
As it happened, the Gryffindor new tactic was outright insane. Fred and George Weasley stopped protecting Longbottom, and now the Boy-Who-Lived rushed into the heart of the Slytherin formations, beginning the massacre. With their high speeds and deficient Braking Charms, the Slytherins were unable to adapt to this new tactic on the fly. After thirty seconds, Marcus Flint took the uncontrollable Bludger in the arm, before colliding with Bole and being thrown off several four feet high in the mud. Not a minute later, Bole followed him, the shock he had just taken making him an easy prey for the other Bludger everyone seemed to have forgotten. In the chaos, Katie Bell took the Quaffle and marked two goals. 60-30 for Slytherin.
Things in the event grew tenser for the Boy-Who-Lived. The Bludger was still pursuing him, and was now shining of a blue electric light which augured nothing good. Impression confirmed when one of the Weasley Twins try to give Longbottom a moment of relief, struck the Bludger... and took a sort of magical shock such that he slowly plummeted to the ground, out of the game. To make matters more dangerous, the Bludger was now a corona of blue energy. Whoever was going to be hit next would be definitely in a world of pain.
The other players still in the game took the fall of the Gryffindor seriously and now rushed quickly away from the Bludger of doom and his intended victim, disrupting the play a bit further. Angelina Johnson marked twice, and Adrian Pucey once. 70-50 for Slytherin, which was losing most of its initial lead.
The only player who had a lot of fun in this... unanticipated Quidditch massacre was Draco Malfoy. With one of the Bludgers trying its best to murder his Gryffindor counterpart, the Slytherin Seeker made laps of honour over the Pitch, insulting Neville Longbottom when he passed near him, making grandiose gestures in direction of the Slytherin stands, his parents, the League recruiters who had made the travel today. A lot of things all considered, except one. He wasn't looking for the Golden Snitch.
"Once an idiot, always an idiot." Said Morag who had remarked the same thing. "Too bad for Slytherin. They had an occasion to win the match by a large margin and Malfoy is squandering it away."
Unfortunately for Slytherin, they had not the time to deal with their Seeker doing anything but his job. Flint out of the game, a new Chaser from the reserve had taken his place, his name being Cassius Warrington. Alexandra had heard of him before. Blonde-haired and with the physic of an ugly bull, Warrington was a fourth-year well known for being an ardent partisan of the pure-blood ideology. His family, the Ancient House of Warrington was known to have counted some Death Eaters in his ranks and though Cassius wasn't the Heir, he still had a sizeable income waiting for him once he finished Hogwarts. Good for him, because his grades at school were not stellar.
To go back to Quidditch matters, Warrington looked about as swift as the previously mentioned bull, and was now spreading trouble, as he, Pucey and Montague debated who had to become interim captain in Flint's absence. As the Lions were clearly not going to stop the game and leave them the time to discuss it, the outcome of the match was turning against them. Each of the Gryffindors had now made one more goal. 80-70 for Gryffindor, and the Keeper Bletchley was now shouting for help as his Chasers abandoned him against the offensive of the Gryffindor girls.
The rain was not falling harder, and the visibility fell further as the sky was now completely dark without a ray of light to lighten the scene. In these conditions, flying on broomsticks became extremely dangerous, a point confirmed by the loud rumble of thunder in the distance. The Snitch had to be caught, the sooner the better.
Alas, this awareness completely escaped one of the two persons charged of this task. Draco Malfoy was now concentrated in mocking Longbottom and doing little else, simulating and showing-off the prowess of his broom, unaware or uncaring his teammates were in the process of being laminated by Gryffindor. The arrogant pure-blood was in fact so concentrated on the Boy-Who-Lived he didn't even notice the gold streak flashing behind him!
"The Snitch is behind him!" Morag shouted, more expressive in everything Quidditch-related.
Neville Longbottom had also seen it, despite being pursued by a murderous Bludger and gave all the power of his Nimbus 2000 to rush towards Malfoy. The Slytherin, not understanding the full picture, made a roll to avoid the imminent collision and raced away, believing his rival wanted to get rid of him. As a result, it offered the Golden Snitch to the Boy-Who-Lived on a platter.
The Gryffindor Seeker did not have the time to celebrate his victory, though. Normal Bludgers had enchantments which normally forced them to return to their boxes once the referee signalled the end of the match, but this Bludger hadn't got the memo. It slammed into Neville Longbottom, who by chance had stopped his pursuit one foot over the ground, and the Gryffindor Seeker was propelled in the mud. The black object of mass destruction was about to make a second passage to kill Longbottom, when a Blasting Hex from Professor Hooch pulverised the ball in fragments.
Neville Longbottom looked like he had an arm broken, but his valid one held the tiny golden ball. And that meant...
"Longbottom has caught the Snitch!" Shouted Lee Jordan, who like the rest of the audience had not foreseen the match ending like this. "230-70! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"
A majority the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students in the stands stood up and screamed their joy to the heavens. Many began to dance, sing or do whatever they did in such cases: launching fireworks, sounding trumpets and so on. The Slytherins stands, however, were deathly silent. The rainfalls now completely forbid watching any individual face, but there was a sea of consternation here, sure as the weather was wet. Near the teachers stand, she saw the families of many Slytherin players who had assisted to the match now leave in a hurry, as if they were worried the shame of the defeat was contagious.
On the ground, there was a commotion where Longbottom had landed, involving a Gilderoy Lockhart who was beaten in a bloody pulp by several furious Gryffindors. Alexandra wondered what this pompous fraud had done now, before dismissing him from her thoughts and preparing to leave the Pitch, a not very endearing proposal as the rain was now worse than ever.
"I was right, you know." Morag said with humour as Hermione first prepared to descend the stairs of the tribunes to go back to Hogwarts. "One Gryffindor saved the day at the end."