Author's Note: I have seen OotP and thought that it was really good. I'm glad I got to see it on opening day. Anyway, this chapter provides one thing that the movie did not: Quidditch. Enjoy!
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LIONS AND BADGERS
Sprinting as fast as he could, Harry reached the stone gargoyle concealing Dumbledore's office at a record pace. He gasped out the password and then ran up the revolving staircase before pounding on the headmaster's door, clutching the stitch in his side.
When Dumbledore opened the door, he had a grave look on his face. "You're bringing me bad news, aren't you, Harry?"
"Yes…sir," Harry said, breathing heavily. "Voldemort…the vampires…they've attacked Inverness, sir. Already thirty are dead."
Dumbledore picked up his wand and shot a silver phoenix out of it. It passed through the stone wall quickly. Dumbledore walked over to his window and watched it fly away as Harry stood behind him.
"I'm contacting the Order," he said, answering Harry's unasked question.
"Was that…your Patronus, sir?" Harry asked instead.
"Yes," Dumbledore said and sat down. There was a look of great sadness on his face. "Thirty, you said?"
"That's what Voldemort said when he told Greyback about the attack," Harry replied.
"Greyback? Fenrir Greyback?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yes, sir. Wormtail brought him to Voldemort."
"Sit down, Harry," Dumbledore said, conjuring up a chintz armchair for him, "and tell me everything you saw tonight."
For five minutes he spoke in great detail to Dumbledore about everything he had seen, about Voldemort branding the Dark Mark on Greyback, and about how the Death Eater Addams had apparently deserted the Dark Lord with a dozen Inferi in tow. When he finished, he looked at Dumbledore sheepishly. "I'm sorry I failed tonight with my Occlumency. I guess I forgot to check my emotions before I went to bed. I was feeling really happy. I didn't even think that I would still be open to Voldemort's mind."
"Yes, even in the happiest of times the mind is open to Legilimency. That is not to say, however, that you should never feel anything. Your emotions, Harry, particularly your stronger, positive emotions, may just save your life one day."
"I'm just not allowed to feel anything before bed," Harry said.
"It is true that you seem most vulnerable in your sleep," Dumbledore said. "Your mind is the most lax, then. You don't have your own thoughts occupying you every second-just your dreams. Dreams are easier to break through."
He took his half-moon spectacles off and rubbed his eyes. It was one of the few times that Harry had ever seen him look weary. "I will tip the Ministry off about the upcoming Cardiff attack. If I hadn't needed Remus so much to be here, I would have sent him to the werewolves to try to discourage them from joining Voldemort."
"D'you think that would have helped? Greyback called them his 'pack,'" Harry said.
"It would have required a lot out of Remus," Dumbledore said, putting his glasses back on. "He would have had to challenge Greyback for the position of alpha male."
Harry quickly thought of the different physiques of Lupin and Greyback. He cringed. "No offense to Professor Lupin or anything, but I'm not quite sure he would have survived that."
"Between you and me, nor do I," Dumbledore said. "Now, I think it's safe for you to go back to bed. I have to contact Amelia."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, getting up to leave. With one last look at Dumbledore's tired face, he walked out the door.
*****
Harry was anxious to read the Daily Prophet the next morning. The moment the barn owl delivered Hermione's copy, she handed it immediately to Harry and paid the bird.
"Oh no," Harry groaned, reading the headline.
"What?" Hermione asked, looking over his shoulder.
He put the paper down on the table so they could all read it.
VALENTINE'S DAY MASSACRE IN INVERNESS
The day of love turned into a day of horror for over 40 Muggle families in Inverness, Scotland when vampires attacked.
None of the vampires were caught, however, as the Aurors arrived too late to stop them.
"This is a horrible tragedy," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the first Aurors to arrive on the scene.
Evidence shows that the vampires arrived around 11:00 and attacked all of the homes on the outskirts of town, Aurors said after examining the bodies of the victims. The attack was quick, lasting no longer than perhaps 15 minutes.
"That's still a long time, though, for them to be here," Auror Gawain Greene said.
Greene also expressed his disheartenment that the alert of an attack did not arrive sooner.
"I hate the fact that we didn't get here in time to save them. I hate that there's not a better alert system for the Aurors to use to help us in this war against [You-Know-Who]. It angers me."
Obliviators were called in after everything was cleaned up and modified the memories of the witnesses. It has been one of the largest Muggle memory modifications needed in this war.
"It's days like today that make a wizard look around and really take in what's happening in this war," said Obliviator Arnold Peasegood. "It's scary."
"It didn't help," Harry murmured. "Seeing it and warning Dumbledore didn't help at all. Forty people died and not a single vampire was captured. I didn't help them."
Hermione put her hand on his. "You can't see everything, Harry. You can't predict everything. You tried to help them, but that's all you could do. It was already too late."
He clenched his fists. "I should be able to help them. Isn't that what I'm supposed to be able to do-save them all?"
"The prophecy didn't say you'd save the world," Hermione said. "It just said that you are the only one who can stop Voldemort. It didn't say that you could stop the rest of his army. You can't save everyone, Harry. The more you try, the more disappointed you'll be. You need to focus on saving yourself first."
He stared at the Prophet for several seconds and then sighed. "I suppose you're right."
"Don't dwell on it," Hermione said. "Think about something else."
"Yeah, like those extra Quidditch practices you've set for the team," Ron said. "Like the one this afternoon."
"Yeah, alright," Harry said, breathing deeply and trying to relax. "I'll think about Quidditch."
The morning passed by and soon, Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindor team were out in the cold, running through drills and generally freezing their butts off.
"It's cold!" Ginny complained. "Come on, Harry, we're in top notch shape. Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance against us!"
"I might have something to say about that!" came a voice from the ground.
The whole Gryffindor team looked down to see the Hufflepuff team in their canary robes below, glaring up at them. The one who spoke was Zacharias Smith, a Chaser and someone Harry didn't like very much.
"What are you doing here, Smith?" Ron yelled, his face red. He disliked Smith even more than Harry.
"I need to speak to Potter," Smith said. "Come down off your broomstick, Potter, so that I can save my voice for when I need it."
Harry landed swiftly and marched over to him. "What do you want?" he asked.
Smith handed him a note. "We need the pitch now, Potter. That's a note from Madam Hooch," he explained.
"But I booked it for us today," Harry said, opening the note. He read it over quickly. "Line-up change?"
"Yeah. We've got some new additions to the team. I sacked Summerby-he was a nightmare-and my Keeper from the last match, so now have a new Seeker and Keeper to train up," Smith said happily.
"I see," Harry said, handing the note back to him. "Don't you think you're pushing it, only giving this new Seeker and Keeper of yours a week of training? That hardly seems fair."
"Don't act so full of yourself, Potter. You've been beaten before by us. We remember Diggory and our new Seeker already has skills that rival his," Smith said proudly. "And I'm sure our new Keeper will be more than a match for your Chasers."
Harry couldn't help but think that if it hadn't been for the dementors, Cedric Diggory would never have caught the Snitch. He sighed. "Very well, Smith. The pitch is yours." He turned back to his team and called up to them. "Practice is over! Let's go!"
The Gryffindors glared at the Hufflepuffs as they passed them, even Ginny, who had forgotten about the cold in her annoyance that Hufflepuff was kicking them off the pitch. When they got back to the locker room, she said, "What the hell did they do that for?"
"They have a new Seeker and a new Keeper," Harry announced. "If what Smith's boasting is true, this new Seeker of theirs is not as dimwitted as Summerby. Apparently the Keeper's not half-bad either. I don't know. All I know is that if we play our game, we should be fine."
"You've got to be kidding me," McGuire said. "A new Seeker and a new Keeper? He's going to train them in a week?" He laughed. "This ought to be easy!"
"Don't be arrogant," Harry said. "We don't know what those two are like yet. I guess we'll find out on Saturday."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Ginny said, getting up. "Come on, Alex, let's go check out their new players."
She and McGuire got up and left, leaving the others staring at Harry. "Don't worry about it. We'll be fine!"
*****
Ginny and McGuire didn't turn up until dinner time. They both sat down next to Harry in the Great Hall, looking frozen to the bone and rather moody.
"How'd the spying go?" he asked, taking a bite of his steak and kidney pie.
"Ask me again after I have feeling in my hands again," Ginny said, attempting to pour herself a cup of tea but failing miserably.
"Here," Hermione said from across the table, grabbing the tea pot from her and pouring. "Why did you stay out there for so long?"
"Because we had to see if the bloke would ever let one through," McGuire said, dishing up a plate of food.
"What d'you mean?" Ron asked, looking fearful.
"Some third-year named Gordon Hornish who's never tried out before now because the Hufflepuffs had that Warren bloke," Ginny said. "He's brilliant, though, and he's got the best broomstick of the lot-a Nimbus Two Thousand and One."
Ron gulped. "He's brilliant, you say?"
Ginny glared at him. "What d'you have to worry about? The Chasers are still the same. Stop the damn Quaffle and you'll be fine. It's us Chasers that have to worry about Hornish."
"What's the new Seeker like?" Harry asked.
"Oh, she's this small thing. Another third year, I think," McGuire said. "Pretty swift on a broom, caught all of the golf balls Smith lobbed in different directions, but she's on a Comet Two-Sixty, like what Chang used last year for Ravenclaw. She doesn't stand much of a chance against you, Captain."
"Yeah, but remember that Chang caught the Snitch in the exhibition match last year on a Comet Two-Sixty," Harry reminded him.
"Yeah, but that was foul play, sending Bludgers at you like that," McGuire said stiffly.
"I thought it was a clever ploy," Ginny said, smirking. She had been on the victorious girls' side.
"It was a low, dirty trick that seriously could have hurt Harry," Hermione said. "I thought the girls would have had more class than that."
Ginny gaped at her, turning red. "Oh, you're just saying that because Harry's your-"
"Best friend," Hermione said forcefully. "And I'd be saying the same thing to Harry about you if it were the other way around."
"I'd rather not rehash old Quidditch matches," Harry said. "I'm trying to focus on Saturday. We'll have to practice our most deceptive moves in the practices leading up to the match. I still think we'll be okay. Remember, one good player doesn't make the team. Look at Bulgaria when they played against Ireland in the last Quidditch World Cup. Even with Krum, they didn't stand a chance."
"He's definitely right about that one," Ron muttered.
"Let's not dwell on it anymore. We'll do what we do best and see how everything stacks up, okay?" Harry said. "Now, I'm hungry, so let's finish eating."
*****
"Alright, Potter, we're going to have some fun this evening," Moody growled from where he stood at the head of the empty Ancient Runes classroom on Friday. "I've been putting you up against weapons, but we're going to work on your hand-to-hand combat training now. I've taught Lupin here a few tricks. Let's see how you do against him."
The desks had all been pushed away. Harry and Lupin were facing each other. Lupin gave him a small smile as they both moved into combat stances.
"Potter!" Moody barked. "Take that ring off before you pop one of Lupin's teeth out!"
Harry looked down at the large ring on his left hand. He had bought Ron, Hermione, and himself one to symbolize their friendship. Because his and Hermione's were on their left hands, though, it symbolized something a little more. He pulled it off his ring finger in resignation and slipped it into his pocket.
"That's better," Moody growled. "Okay, go ahead."
Harry struck first, making a move to punch Lupin square in the jaw, but Lupin shot up his arm and blocked it. Just as quick, he punched Harry right in the gut, causing him to double over.
"Breathe, Potter, and try again," Moody said, watching him closely.
Harry straightened and tried to attack Lupin again, but at the last second Lupin stepped away, hooked his foot around Harry's shin, and send Harry sprawling to the floor.
"I thought you could do better than that, Potter," Moody taunted from the sidelines.
Harry got up and tried again, but the result was nearly identical. The only difference was that when Lupin sidestepped, he grabbed Harry's arm with his right hand and, using his left to press painfully against Harry's shoulder, pinned Harry's arm behind him.
Moody sighed. "That's enough. Let him go, Lupin."
Lupin immediately did so, giving Harry a look of apology as he did so. Harry turned around and massaged his arm.
"You've gotten into scuffles in your life, haven't you, boy?" Moody asked.
"Yes," Harry growled, glaring at Moody.
"What the hell did you do in them? Punch and then be punched? Did you never try to block an oncoming assault?" Moody asked.
Harry was rubbing his shoulder now. "No, I suppose not."
"That's why you're lousy," Moody said. "If you can't defend yourself, there's no point in trying to attack. When the fight or flight response kicks in, right now you're better off running."
Harry raised his chin. "I don't run."
"Then you're going to have to learn how to defend yourself, to block someone's punch, to pivot, to duck. I've got to teach you all of these things, Potter, so that you're ready," Moody said. "Although I would have expected you to use some of that weapon defense we've been doing the past few weeks to help you through this."
"There was a difference, though," Harry said. "I was attacking first."
Moody grinned at him. "Caught that, did you? Good. It's harder to react in a defensive manner if you're the one attacking. That's why I'm going to give you a simple rule, Potter: don't be the first to attack.
"Now, stand over there. Lupin and I are going to show you some ways to block punches."
An hour later, as Harry began to feel extremely exhausted, Moody called it quits. "There's one more thing I'd like to show you, though, Potter, before you go," he said. When Harry nodded, he continued, "Stand in the middle again and try to punch me."
"But I thought you said-"
"Forget what I said for just a moment," Moody said. "Try to punch me."
Weary, Harry tossed out a rather lame punch, which Moody blocked. Then, before he knew what was happening, Moody grabbed his forearm with the same arm that was blocking his punch and pivoted with such a force that it forced Harry to flip over and land on his back.
"Ha!" Moody barked in triumph. "Neat, isn't it?"
Harry groaned. "Very," he muttered and was just about to push himself up when Lupin offered him a hand.
"You did a really good job tonight, Harry," Lupin said, pulling him upright. "I had several rough landings myself when Moody showed me a few of those."
"He put you through this as well, eh?" Harry said.
"Some of it," Lupin said as he and Harry headed out the door after saying good-bye to Moody. "Not enough to put me on the road to being an Auror, though." He offered Harry a smile.
Harry slipped his hand into his pocket and fished out his ring before putting it back on. "Did your muscles ache as much?"
"Probably not as bad as yours," Lupin said, looking down at Harry's hand where the ring now rested. "As I said, he didn't put me through the ringer as much. That is a very interesting ring. I've noticed it before and I've been meaning to ask you about it."
"What?" Harry said absently before glancing down at his hand. "Oh, yeah."
"Where'd you get it?" Lupin asked.
"Some antique shop in Hogsmeade," Harry replied. "Ron and Hermione have one too."
"May I ask why you bought them?"
Harry shrugged. "They were Christmas gifts to them last year, but I got them engraved underneath so that they would symbolize our friendship."
"Very interesting," Lupin murmured. "Very interesting. I noticed, however, that last year you wore your ring on your right hand. Why change?"
"Oh-er-because it interfered with Quidditch," Harry lied quickly. "I usually catch the Snitch with my right hand and the ring sort of weighed it down a bit."
"I see. Do you like it?" Lupin asked.
"Yeah. I sort of forget that I'm wearing it, like the Snitch pendant that Hermione got me last year for my birthday and the talisman that Hagrid bought me for my birthday this year," Harry said, pulling both necklaces out from underneath his shirt.
"Yes, I imagine so," Lupin said distractedly.
"Er-Professor?"
"Yes, Harry?" Lupin said, his attention snapping back.
"Er-when's the next full moon?" he asked.
Lupin blinked. "Tonight, as a matter of fact. I should get back to my office before I transform. I drank Snape's Wolfsbane Potion earlier tonight, so I should be okay. Why do you ask?"
Harry frowned. "Because at the next full moon Voldemort told Fenrir Greyback that he and his fellow werewolves could attack Cardiff."
"Yes, Dumbledore informed us of that. Try not to worry about it tonight, Harry. Dumbledore will have given the Ministry plenty of warning. Don't let your mind be opened to Voldemort."
"I won't," Harry promised. "Well, good night."
"Good night, Harry. Pleasant dreams," Lupin said. "Oh, and good luck in the match tomorrow."
*****
For the second time in a week, Harry woke up anxious to read the Daily Prophet. He wanted to know if Cardiff had indeed been attacked by werewolves. He certainly hoped not, but he knew it was coming.
After going through his prescribed workout session, he took a long shower and ended up back in the common room to find it filled with Gryffindors who were all excited about that day's match against Hufflepuff.
Hermione was sitting in her usual seat and waved to him. He walked over and sat down next to her. "'Morning," he said.
"'Morning. Have you looked outside?" she asked.
From his morning jog he knew that it was bitterly cold out there and that the snow had turned hard and slippery. When he glanced out of the window, he saw that the weather had changed. Aghast, he stood up and stared at the swirling snow and it pelted down from the sky, driven by a forceful wind.
"When did that start?" he cried.
"About a half-hour ago," Hermione said, pulling him back into his seat.
"First a thunderstorm and now this?" Harry said, letting his face drop into his hands. "Great."
"Wear double, maybe triple layers under your Quidditch robes and use scarves," Hermione said.
"I'll fog up my glasses if I wear a scarf over my face," Harry said, shaking his head.
"Oh, Harry, for goodness sake," Hermione muttered, taking out her wand and tapping Harry's glasses. "There."
He stared at her. "What did you just do?"
"Put a charm on your glasses so that they won't fog up," she said.
"Oh. Thanks."
The rest of the team joined them, along with their friends. "Have you seen the snowstorm?" Andrew Kirke asked. "We'll get blown off our brooms!"
"Not if you hold tight, you won't," Harry said, checking his watch. "Breakfast is being served in five minutes. Let's go."
They were just in the middle of their toast when the owls started arriving, bringing the morning post. Hermione paid for her Daily Prophet when an owl landed in front of her and, seeing the hungry look on Harry's face, passed it over.
Harry opened it quickly and his breath hitched.
"What is it, mate?" Ron asked.
"Cardiff was attacked last night," Harry said, "but like Westbury-on-Severn, no one died."
"That's wonderful news," Hermione said.
Harry read on. "None of the werewolves were captured, though. Damn. But wait, it says one of them was killed by that one Auror bloke Gawain Greene."
"Doesn't he ever take a day off?" Ron said. "Bloody hell, he's always in the papers."
"That doesn't matter," Harry said. "The point is, no one on our side was killed."
"That's right," Hermione said. "This is a victory for us."
He handed the paper back to Hermione. "Thank Merlin," he murmured. "Now I don't feel so bad about today."
"What's to feel bad about?" Ron asked. "It's just a bit of snow."
He glanced up at his friend sharply. "Ron, it's practically a blizzard."
"We'll survive it," Ron said.
"I'm glad you're confident."
"Why shouldn't I be?" Ron asked.
Harry smiled. "No reason."
"Oh my God, she didn't!" Hermione hissed.
"What?" Harry and Ron said together.
"That hag. I can't believe it!" Hermione said, her face turning red.
"What is it Hermione? Who did what?" Harry asked.
Hermione thrust the Prophet back at him, where he saw his own name in a headline on the penultimate page.
Harry Potter Under the Influence of Amorentia?
We all know the story about the Boy Who Lived (writes Rita Skeeter), including the stories from a couple years ago when he was falsely accused of being mad.
"Yeah, by you," Ron muttered, reading along.
A few years ago, I wrote an article showing another side to Harry-his love life. Recall, if you will, the tragic relationship he had with one Hermione Granger, a fellow classmate of his at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Miss Granger spurned his love in favor of another's, the former Bulgarian Quidditch star Viktor Krum. Now that Krum is gone, it seems that Miss Granger is so desperate to regain her former relationship with Harry Potter than she will do so by any means necessary.
On Valentine's Day, Harry was seen in the company of Miss Granger in the village of Hogsmeade, coming out of the local sweet shop. Mr. Potter was acting very strangely. He was downright waspish to those around him, but constantly gave Miss Granger a glowing look.
Upon entering Honeyduke's sweet shop, this reporter saw an advertisement for something called "Cupid Cakes," a twist on Cauldron Cakes, but made to look like little cupids for Valentine's Day. But, what was one of the ingredients used?
"Amorentia," replied one of the shop owners. "A little bit of fun for everyone on Valentine's Day."
Upon asking the shop owner whether or not Miss Granger had looked at the Cupid Cakes, the owner replied, "Well, yes. She was talking to Harry Potter about them."
It is probable that Miss Granger bought one of these Cupid Cakes and fed it to Harry so that he would become obsessed with her once again.
"Or she could have made it herself," said Pansy Parkinson, a seventh year at Hogwarts. "Like I mentioned a few years ago, she's really brainy and would know how to brew up something like that. It wouldn't surprise me if she's been doing so since fourth year."
"She's also clever enough not to get caught," Parkinson went on. "She's got to make sure she keeps her Head Girl badge."
Perhaps it is time for Hogwarts to look into this matter before poor Harry's heart is broken again.
"That hag," Hermione repeated.
Harry shook his head. "Just ignore it," he said, repeating the advice Hermione usually gave him.
"Ignore it?" Ron said incredulously. "What if she gets hate mail again?"
"We'll burn them," Harry said, "and toss the Howlers out the window."
"I am going to get back at her," Hermione said. "She may be a registered Animagus now, but I bet the Ministry would be very interested in knowing just how long she's been an Animagus."
"Or I could just write into the Prophet, telling everyone that she's lying," Harry said.
Hermione's expression softened as she calmed down. "That's really sweet of you, Harry, but even if you told the truth, no one would believe you. They'd all think you were under the influence of Amorentia."
Harry looked around and dropped his voice. "I could lie and say that we're just friends. I could keep us safe and discredit Rita at the same time."
Ron gave an approving nod. "That sounds good."
Hermione sighed. "Only if you want to lie."
"Well, not particularly. I'd like to shout it from the top of the Astronomy Tower that you're my girl, but I also have to think about your safety," he said in a low voice.
"Personally I doubt I'd be at any more risk as your girlfriend than I would as one of your best friends," Hermione said, her voice matching Harry's.
"But I'm not willing to risk it," Harry said. "Look, let's just roll our eyes at this thing and forget about it. It'll all blow over soon, what with the war. People are going to be too scared and too preoccupied to care about my love life."
"I hope you're right," Hermione said. "I agree, though, let's just ignore this and see how bad the fallout is."
Harry grinned. "That's my Hermione."
"Now back to Quidditch," Ron said, taking Harry's mind off of the article and returning it to the blistering snowstorm outside. "Can you try for a quick catch today so none of us freeze our arses off?"
"I'll try," Harry said, grabbing another slice of toast.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry motioned to his team that it was time to leave. "See you later," he said to Hermione, who was still reading through the Prophet.
"Good luck," she said.
The team walked out of the oak front doors and into the blowing snow. Harry pulled his cloak around him even tighter and led them down the sloping lawns to the locker room, where they gratefully entered its warmth.
"I'm glad I'm wearing two pairs of socks," Ron muttered, shaking the snow from his hair.
"It's cold," Harry agreed, opening up his locker and grabbing his robes.
The team got ready in silence. Harry tied up his shoes and sat down with the rest of his team, who were all looking at him expectantly.
He frowned. "Well, we all know what the weather is like out there. Just do your best."
"Harry? You remember what Hagrid told us during the holiday, don't you?" Ron asked.
"About the scouts returning, you mean?" Harry said.
"Yeah. D'you think they did?"
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I don't really care either. I'm more concerned about this weather."
They heard the pounding of feet as they entered the stadium. Harry listened to the excited chatter from the crowd and the blowing winds for a few minutes before finally getting up and saying, "Hufflepuff may have swapped players with a hope of having a better chance at beating us, but those two new players only had a week to prepare. We've been preparing since September. We'll do fine. Just stay warm."
"Like we didn't already have that in mind," Andrew Kirke said.
Harry gave a weak smile. "Okay, let's go," he said, pulling the door to the locker room open and letting in a blast of cold air and snow.
They trudged out of the locker room and into the stadium. Through the howling wind, he heard Colin Creevey's voice, but it sounded as though it were coming from far away.
"Here's the Gryffindor team-Kirke, McGuire, Farrell, McDonald, Weasley, Weasley, and Potter!"
Vaguely, Harry heard cheering. The wind blew even harder and nearly knocked Hunter down. Kirke grabbed him and pulled him upright. Harry gripped the Phoenix even tighter.
"From the other end of the field enters the Hufflepuff team-Corday, Mathis, Freebush, Hornish, French, Knowles, and Smith!" Colin yelled.
When the teams met in the middle of the pitch, Smith grinned haughtily at Harry. "Wonderful weather!" Smith yelled.
"Yes. It's delightful," Harry said, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Madam Hooch was in the middle of the field as well. "Shake hands, captains," she said, adjusting the goggles on her face.
Harry and Smith shook hands briefly and then turned back to their own teams.
"Mount your brooms, please," Madam Hooch said. When they did so, she continued, "On my whistle, then. Three-two-one-" She blew her whistle and both teams rose as one.
"Madam Hooch tosses the Quaffle up and it is immediately taken by Farrell for Gryffindor. He zooms underneath French and passes it off to McDonald, who throws it to Weasley, who dodges a Bludger! Weasley heads toward the Hufflepuff goal posts. This will be the first test for Hufflepuff's new Keeper, Gordon Hornish, a third year who missed the Hufflepuff try outs this year due to an accident in Potions, but Captain Zacharias Smith decided to use him in a line-up change he made last Saturday."
Harry tried to watch Ginny as she flew down toward the Hufflepuff goal posts, seeing only a blur of scarlet, followed by two blurs of canary yellow, through the pelting snow.
"Weasley takes aim…NO! Hornish catches and tosses it back to French! French passes to Smith, who barely misses that Bludger sent by McGuire. Smith to Knowles, Knowles to Smith-they're heading toward-nope! Farrell steals it!" Colin yelled and all of the Gryffindor supporters cheered. "Hunter Farrell steals it and heads back toward the Hufflepuff goals."
"Come on, Hunter," Harry muttered, causing snow to fly into his mouth. "Come on."
Even with Hunter's usual precision, Hornish caught the Quaffle and passed it back to Smith. Harry growled. This was going to be a lot harder than he had anticipated.
"Smith takes it around Weasley and passes to French. Here comes a Bludger! Nope, she dodged it! French passes back to Smith who dives underneath McDonald and tries one! Oh! Ron Weasley caught it! The score is still zero to zero!"
Harry soared around the pitch, searching as best as he could for the Snitch. If the match was going to as low scoring as he feared, it was pretty much up to him. He had to find the Snitch and catch is before Hufflepuff's Seeker did.
"Mathis sends a Bludger at McDonald, who's got the Quaffle, and knocks it right out of her grip! It's picked up by Knowles, who edges past Farrell and shoots…SAVED! Weasley saves another one!" Colin cried as the wind howled again.
"Good job, Ron!" Harry yelled as he passed the Gryffindor end. "Keep it up!"
Ron gave him a thumbs up and went back to the game.
Harry ducked quickly as a Bludger pelted its way past him with McGuire chasing after it. "Alright, Harry?" he called as he flew past.
"French has the Quaffle and barely misses smacking right into fellow Chaser Rachel Knowles. She passes it to Smith-STOLEN! Hunter Farrell steals the Quaffle back for Gryffindor. He flies past both French and Knowles, dodges a Bludger sent by Corday, and flies toward the Hufflepuff goal posts. He shoots-OH! Hornish was ready for him and catches the Quaffle easily. The score is still zero to zero."
The wind blew even harder now and it was becoming more and more difficult to hear Colin's voice. Harry heard snatches of the commentary: "Bludger misses-SAVED-passes to French-Weasley dives-Corday smacks-McDonald misses-Kirke takes aim-still zero to zero."
Everything was very white now. The Quidditch players, although moving quickly around the field, were still getting covered in snow. Harry brushed some of the flakes from his shoulder as he paused to scan the pitch. He could no longer hear the crowd or Colin. The only thing he could hear was the cold, harsh wind as it blew in great gusts.
"SCORE!" he finally heard Colin bellow, making him jump. "FARRELL SCORES FOR GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry cheered, but his yells were lost to the wind. He dived down low to see if he could hear better and suddenly found himself being tailed by the young Hufflepuff Seeker. He smirked. Nobody tailed Harry Potter and got away with it.
Concentrating hard on a spot of the snow-covered earth, he dived again, causing the crowd to gasp in alarm. The Hufflepuff Seeker-Freebush-flew down after him. Harry, however, being on a much superior broom, came out of the dive a mere meter above the crowd. Freebush barely had time to pull herself up in time, narrowly avoiding a crash.
"A spectacular feint by Potter! Freebush should watch out. She's not dealing with any ordinary Seeker here!" Colin said gleefully.
The wind picked up again and Colin's voice was lost to it. Harry flew around the pitch again, happy with himself. Suddenly, through all of the white, he thought he saw a glitter of gold. He started after it. Was it? Could it be?
It was. As Harry soared after it, he could tell it was the Golden Snitch. "Let's go! Let's go!" Harry yelled as the wind blew even harder. Suddenly he heard someone scream behind.
He whirled around. The wind had blown so hard that it had knocked Freebush off of her broom. Harry was torn as he watched her fall, but he knew that he couldn't possibly sit by and let her possibly get hurt. Lying flat on the handle, he zoomed off after her, the wind whipping his robes around him. "Go, go!" he cried, urging the Phoenix on.
As he edged closer, another large gust of wind blew, knocking him off course. He growled in frustration, pulling the broom back in the other direction, hoping that he'd get to the Hufflepuff Seeker in time.
He went into a steeper, more dangerous, dive. Freebush was only a meter above the ground when Harry reached out and caught her by the arm, one-handed. He halted and, with all his might, pulled her onto the broom with him.
"You okay?" he panted.
"Yeah, I think," Freebush said. "Thanks."
"No problem," he said as Madam Hooch blew her whistle to call a timeout.
"DID YOU SEE THAT?" Colin screamed. "DID YOU SEE THAT REMARKABLE CATCH BY HARRY POTTER, SAVING THE HUFFLEPUFF SEEKER?"
Knowles flew down with Freebush's broom in her hand. "Blimey, Potter, if it weren't for you catching her, she'd have probably snapped her neck. That was a sixty-foot fall!"
Harry helped Freebush back onto her broom without a word and flew off. The Snitch was gone.
When play resumed, he listened to Colin's commentary as much as he could between wind gusts. "Ten to zero, Gryffindor, still. The players are looking weary and who could blame them? It's really cold out here."
"Good job, Harry!" Ginny called as she passed him, tearing off after Smith, who had the Quaffle.
That's when Harry saw it again, near the Keeper Hornish's left foot. The Snitch.
He glanced around to see where Freebush was at. "SCORE!" he suddenly heard Colin yell. "SMITH KNOCKS ONE IN FOR HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Damn," Harry muttered as he tore off toward the Snitch, desperate to catch it this time. His fingers were starting to go numb.
"Weasley's got the Quaffle, but it's stolen by Smith, who's heading toward the Gryffindor goals again. Wait-Potter's seen the Snitch!" Colin yelled.
Harry was miles ahead of Freebush. There was no way she'd catch him. Another large wind gust tried to knock him off course, but he held on. The Snitch fluttered off, but Harry was hot on its trail. He reached out for it-WHAM!
Harry cried out in pain as a Bludger hit him square in the arm. He heard a sickening crack and spun off course, then righted himself. He saw the Snitch above him and went after it as Freebush flew up.
"No!" Harry cried, urging his broom upward. His arm was aching with an all too familiar pain, but he held on. He was catching Freebush.
The Snitch was leveling out now and with it, Freebush. Harry followed them and, with an extra burst of speed he didn't know the broom had, he caught Freebush and began to pass her just as the Snitch went into a horrendous dive ninety-degrees downward. Freebush wouldn't dare go into a ninety-degree drop again, but Harry was braver. He followed the Snitch down, his arm killing him, and, when the Snitch leveled out again some twelve feet above the ground, he pulled up out of the dive and took his left hand off of the broom, leaving his injured right hand to keep him steady as he flew down the pitch, edging ever closer to the golden ball.
Yet another gust of wind tried to blow him off his broom, but he held on, gasping in pain with the effort. It was all he could do to hang on. Ahead of him, he saw Freebush coming, her hand also up, obviously believing that she could catch the Snitch as it passed by her.
Harry was getting closer and closer. He leaned forward slightly on his injured arm, trying to snatch the Snitch out of the air. Suddenly, his arm gave way and he felt his legs slide off of the footholds. With a gasp, he wrapped both his injured arm and legs around the shaft, and hung off of the bottom of his broomstick, his left hand still outstretched.
Freebush had a look of triumph in her eyes. Summoning all of his will power, Harry pulled himself up as far as he could do, stretching his left hand out. Then, with a grunt of pain, he pushed himself even further and, as a blast of cold wind hit his face, his fist enclosed around the Snitch.
He distantly heard a whistle and the roar of the crowd, but all of that was beginning to fade. He had the little golden ball clutched in his hand and he felt himself relax. They had won. That was when he felt himself hit the icy ground.
People were starting to surround him. "Harry! Harry!" he heard Ron yelled as he landed by him. "Bloody hell, mate, that was one hell of a catch!"
Hermione was rushing toward him from the stands. "Harry! My God, Harry! Are you alright?"
"No, I'm not," Harry said, groaning slightly. "I think my arm's broken."
"We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey straight away," Hermione said. She took out her wand and conjured up a stretcher.
"That was still the best catch I've ever seen," Ron said. "I made sure to save your broom, by the way."
"Thanks," Harry murmured and, after climbing into the stretcher, he let his teammates carry him all the way back to the castle.