Out With the Old Professors, In With the New

Ch. 11: The Quidditch Match

By the next morning, news of Hermione's and Justin's abductions had spread throughout the castle. When Harry and Ron arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, the mood was somber. The staff were all talking quietly amongst themselves with serious expressions, and most of the students picked at their breakfasts miserably. Except, Harry noted with anger, for those at the Slytherin table.

Few of the Slytherins appeared at all distressed by the news of the dual kidnapping. In fact, most of them were singing and laughing and throwing confetti about. Malfoy, with a lampshade on his head, led several of his cronies in a spirited dance on the top of their house table. Harry was incensed. He had never wanted to win a Quidditch match as much as he did today. Well, except for the last time he had played against Slytherin. And the time before that. Anyway, he really wanted to win today.

"Ron, I really want to win today!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron did not answer. He swayed in his seat, looking a sickly green, as was his wont on the day of a match.

"C'mon, Ron, snap out of it!" urged Ginny. "We really need you today, if were going to beat those heinous Slytherins. Ooh, I hate them! Look at them, prancing and strutting and preening. Now Pansy's throwing grapes to Malfoy, and he's catching them in his mouth as he dances!" She paused for a moment, grimacing over her tea. "Now look! Crabbe and Goyle just starting doing one of those Russian-type kicking-dances, whatever you call them, and the rest of them are clapping along! Arrgh, I can't stand it! We'd better clobber them, that's all I can say!"

"Well, it won't be easy," warned Harry, as he spread some jam on a piece of toast. "They've got new Beaters this year, and I've seen then play, they're really tough and nasty. They call themselves The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse!"

"The Four Horsemen?" questioned Ginny, as Ron ducked his head under the table and retched. "But there are only two Beaters per team."

"I said they were tough and nasty, I didn't say they were smart," said Harry grimly. "And that's not all. Our dear Draco's dad bought new brooms for the whole Slytherin team."

"Not Sidewinder Ten Thousands!" exclaimed Ron, momentarily between his bouts of vertigo, ague, nausea and quivering.

"No, worse than that," replied Harry. "These are brand new brooms that haven't even come out on the market yet, Firebolt Ultras. And we've got half our team flying on old Biddywhisks. It'll be a real challenge today. Thank goodness we've got the better keeper!" said Harry, meaningfully glancing at Ron's prostrate form under the Gryffindor table.

Ginny realized that Harry was trying to boost Ron's nearly non-existent confidence, and played along. "Oh yes, Harry, we're ever so lucky to have Ron as a Keeper! He's the best one I've ever seen in my life. In fact, the best Quidditch player ever! I'll bet he could make a save, Bludger an opposing Chaser, and catch the Snitch in a single play!"

But Ginny had laid the compliments on a bit too thick, and Ron saw through her ruse. He appeared from under the table, still looking ghastly. "Stop trying to make me feel good!" he whimpered, like a first year parting from his mommy for the first time. "Oh, I should just quit. I'm no good. I really stink. I'm the worst Keeper ever! I'm not even a real Keeper, I'm just a fraud, a sham, a fake, a phony!"

Harry did the only thing he could think of. He slapped Ron hard, and shouted, "Snap out of it, Weasley! You're a great Keeper when you're on your game!"

Ron looked shocked. He rubbed his face where Harry had struck him, and after a moment, he took a deep breath. "Thanks, mate, I needed that," he said.

Just to make sure he was all right, Harry smacked him again.

"Hey!" shouted Ron. "Cut it out, that hurts!"

With Ron finally over the worst of his despair, the rest of the day until the match passed in a blur. Word had reached the Gryffindors that the Slytherins were hoping to put Harry out of the match, as he was considered their only chance to win. Therefore, wherever Harry went that day, he was surrounded by 10 to 12 of his housemates, determined to protect him from any curses or other attacks. This became quite wearying to Harry, especially when he had to go to the loo.

At last, it was time for the match. Harry and his teammates proceeded grimly to the dressing rooms, and girded themselves for the upcoming confrontation. As the captain, Harry gave the traditional pre-match pep talk.

"OK team, it's time for the match!" he said bracingly. "Now, the Slytherins may be bigger than us. They're faster, and more experienced. They fly better, and have better tactics and plays. And the latest, best brooms." Harry paused and looked off into space.

"Yes, Harry, and?" prompted Ginny eagerly.

"Huh?" asked Harry bemusedly. "Um, I forgot what else I was going to say. Well, anyway, let's go play some Quidditch!"

As they headed out onto the pitch, Harry could not help but notice that his teammates still looked grim. Perhaps his pep talk had not encouraged them enough? Ron, in particular, looked as if he were going to throw up. Just then, Harry realized why. The Slytherins, led by Pansy Parkinson, were serenading the crowd with their new rallying song, again designed to taunt Ron. It was called, "Weasley is a Fraud, a Sham, a Fake, a Phony."

"Hmm, catchy tune," thought Harry. "Don't you mind them, Ron, I don't know where they get off saying that about you, mate," he told his friend. Ron only looked queasier.

As they took their places at the center line to begin the match, Harry shook hands with Malfoy, the Slytherin captain. Malfoy sneered and squeezed Harry's hand as hard as he could, but his being such a mama's boy, Harry did not notice.

"Hello, Potter," he taunted. "You haven't got a chance this time. I've told my side to put you out of the match right away, penalties be damned, and then it's smooth sailing for us."

"Oh yeah?" Harry retorted.

Malfoy snickered in reply.

At last, the teams took to the air. Harry immediately felt better. This was where he belonged! He was in his element. He was the Gryffindor Seeker, Master of the Skies, King of the Air, Lord of All He Surveyed! "OK, Harry, get a grip," he thought. He swooped around on his broom, anxiously awaiting the start of the match. They'd have to play a perfect game to beat the stronger, faster, more agile, more maneuverable, just all around better Slytherins.

Madam Hooch surveyed the two opposing sides with her weird yellow eyes, and said, "I want to see a good clean game; from all of you!" As she said the last, she glanced significantly at the Slytherins, who looked about with innocent expressions, although not very convincingly. She mounted her broomstick, shouted, "Match on!" and kicked open the chest containing the various balls.

The Quaffle and the two Bludgers sped off into the air. The Golden Snitch, however, flew directly up into the bottom of Harry's robes. He felt a very uncomfortable sensation, gasped, and sat up rigidly on his broom.

"Uh, Madam Hooch," he said, in a clipped tone. "I think I've caught the Snitch."

"What!" she exclaimed. "Well, let's see it, Potter."

"No, I don't think you really want to see where it is right now!" Harry replied painfully.

He flew over gingerly to the confused Madam Hooch and whispered to her for a moment, and she raised her eyebrows and blushed. She then blew her whistle, and shouted, "Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins, 150 to nothing!"

The crowd went wild. Harry Potter had done it again! It had been the quickest capture anyone could remember; the entire match lasted just 3 seconds. Although it was quite rare, it was not unheard of for one of the Seekers to immediately catch the Snitch at the outset of the match. The Slytherins were irate, of course. Malfoy protested the outcome, shouting, stamping, and just generally throwing a hissy fit until Madam Hooch ordered him off the pitch.

The rest of the Gryffindor team gathered at the center line to celebrate. But where was Harry?

"Madam Hooch, have you seen Harry?" asked Ron, who appeared to be covered in cat sick, while the rest of the team rejoiced.

"Uh, he's gone off to the hospital wing to have the Snitch, uh, that is, the Snitch is, well, he's gone off to see Madam Pomfrey," she finished lamely.

"Gosh, I hope he's ok! But that's our Harry, another brilliant capture, he's always using his head!" said Ron as he flew off to join his triumphant mates.

"Well, not this time," said Madam Hooch quietly, as the Gryffindors jubilantly pounded each other on their backs and otherwise carried on.

Before heading to the Common Room to celebrate their glorious victory over their Slytherin rivals, the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team carried out their usual post-match ritual of visiting Harry in the hospital. As they entered Madam Pomfrey's domain, they saw Harry in a most unusual position. He was face down in his hospital bed, on his knees, with his backside in the air.

Harry smiled painfully as his mates entered and greeted him with their usual huzzahs and acclamation.

"Harry, you were brilliant, mate!" praised Ron, as the rest of the team surrounded Harry's bed and beamed at him. "Three seconds to capture the Snitch! You should have seen Malfoy's face, he looked like he had swallowed a Bludger!"

"Yes Harry, you're the greatest!" said Colin breathlessly. "Tell us all how you did it, please, please?"

"Yes, tell us, Harry, tell us!" wheedled Dennis.

"Oh, it was nothing," said Harry quietly. "I was just, uh, in the right place at the right time."

"Now Harry, this is no time for false modesty," chided Ginny. "You knew we'd have no chance without a quick capture, so you took it on yourself to end the game right from the start. You really are a hero, you know," she finished, flashing Harry a perfect smile and batting her beautiful brown eyes as her luxurious red hair streamed out behind her.

In spite of his discomfort, Harry felt especially thrilled to hear Ginny's enthusiastic praise. It was almost worth it to have a Snitch lodged in his behind, he thought.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey bustled in. "Out, out with you!" she screeched. "Mr. Potter needs his rest, and I don't need the lot of you stomping around my ward disturbing the peace!"

"C'mon Madam Pomfrey," pleaded Ron. "Harry's the only one here, and we'll be quiet. Can't we stay for a while?"

For once, Harry was glad that his friends were being chased from the hospital wing. "Uh, no, I think Madam Pomfrey's right," he said. "I'm really pretty exhausted, and I need some rest."

"Oh, budge up, Harry, you look fine," Ron argued. "Can't you let us all stay for just five more minutes, please?"

Madam Pomfrey frowned for a moment, then said, "Very well, five minutes it is. Just don't go agitating poor Mr. Potter."

"Why, what's the matter with Harry anyway?" asked Ginny, as Harry groaned and blushed a deep crimson. "You can make him right, can't you."

Harry was just about to interrupt Madam Pomfrey's response, but she cut him off.

"Drink this, Mr. Potter," she said, tilting a bottle labeled "Make-U-Go" to his lips. Harry made a face, and Madam Pomfrey shook her head and exclaimed, "Well, what did you expect? Pumpkin Juice?" Turning aside to the other students, she chuckled and said, "Ha ha, that's pretty funny, huh? Pumpkin Juice! I kill myself!"

"Anyway, Mr. Potter's in for a rough night," she continued brusquely, as he struggled to drink his medicine. "He should never have been moved, I should have been called out immediately for an emergency of this nature. I can restore students petrified by basilisks, and I can mend broken bones in a heartbeat, but extracting a Snitch from someone's posterior, well, that's another matter. It'll take all night for the potion to work, and it won't be pretty, I'll wager."

Harry felt like he was going to die of embarrassment. At first no one spoke, they just gazed at Harry's prone form in awe.

Finally, Ginny broke the silence. "Harry, you didn't!" she exclaimed.

As they all began to snicker, Harry replied, "I sure wish I hadn't! But there you go, that capture really was an accident. Please everyone, don't tell anybody what happened, would you?" he pleaded.

"Don't worry, mate, we wouldn't want you to be the butt of everyone's jokes!" replied Ron, as they all continued giggling.

As Harry glared, Ron went on. "I always said you were a cheeky fellow, Harry. You got a real bum deal there. But don't worry, it's good to have your troubles behind you!"

By this point, the Gryffindors were all falling about laughing at Harry's predicament.

"Thanks, Ron, you're really helping a lot here!" said Harry sullenly.

"Alright, that's enough, Ron," said Ginny, although she continued grinning. "We'll all keep this quiet for you, right everybody?" The rest of the team all nodded, although they still wore amused expressions. "Tell you what Harry, if anyone blabs, I'll get them with my Bat Bogey Hex, OK?"

"OK, thanks Ginny, that makes me feel a lot better," Harry said. "Now really everybody, I'd like to be alone right now if you don't mind. Thanks for coming to see me, but I need to get some rest. You all go ahead to the party, I'll be fine."

As they all turned to head back to the party in the Common Room, Ron left Harry with some parting words. "See you Harry, and I hope you feel better soon. Everyone will miss you at the party, though. After today's match, I'm sure you've got the seat of honor!"

Harry glared at their retreating forms and stewed silently, as the peals of laughter from his departing teammates died off into the distance. He reflected on his many traumatic experiences playing Quidditch. As he drifted off to sleep, his final thought was that he might actually be safer choosing a career as an Auror after all.

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