Montague's Journey

Chapter 2 - Let the Games Begin

It was like traveling by Portkey except following the sharp yank at the navel, there was no other feeling of traveling through space. The effects of the journey gave Montague an intense headache, as if his head was being compressed into an egg. The pressure eased a bit and his senses gradually returned. A high-pitched hum filled his ears as he lazily rolled and looked about.

He was suspended in a bright blue space. Not too far off in the distance, there was a dingy green wall with an unusual geometric pattern carved into it. The pattern looked like an ancient hieroglyph of an eye. There was a large oval with a smaller circle directly in its center. A line divided the pattern in half lengthwise, and there were additional markings at both ends of the oval. The pattern was strangely familiar, but he couldn't put his mouse-bitten finger on it. If he had only studied a bit more in Ancient Runes, he might have been able to interpret its meaning. The annoying hum in his ears and the throbbing in his head were not making it very easy to concentrate on the puzzle. Much to his pleasure, the humming ceased at that very moment.

He barely had time to enjoy this small turn of good fortune since the ancient-eye-pattern started moving towards him. Other details of the design started to form as it crept closer. Sparks of bright yellow, blue and bronze swam laterally back and forth across the length of the oval and through the "pupil" in the middle. Montague was positive that he had seen the design before. He was also positive that he was on a direct collision course with the accelerating object unless he acted soon. He could feel a chilling gust and hear the roar of wind preceding its approach; it would swallow him within seconds. He thought he might be able to stun it or blast it apart. He raised his wand, and found out his good luck streak had come to an abrupt end: He was wandless.

I just had it in my hand.

Seven seconds to impact.

In fact, he seemed to be missing his entire arm.

This is not good.

Five seconds to impact.

The wall was moving incredibly fast. Hurricane strength winds rushed about him; he could hardly believe that he remained stationary. He tried to turn away and run, except he didn't have any legs.

This is really not good.

Three seconds.

He closed his eyes and threw his non-existent arms over his head to brace for the impact. Oddly enough, this action provided his brain with some strange sensory feedback. There was something attached near his would-be shoulder: It was a very nice, sleek silver wing.

One second.

Fly wings!

The humming noise burst back to life and the wall snapped to a halt a mere meter away. At this distance, the green wall looked like it was made of grass.

Grass?

If he had hands, he would have slapped himself on the forehead. Instead, he wobbled a bit as he shook off a moment of dizziness and commanded his wings to propel him skyward. He rocketed away from the ground, glanced down and laughed. Yes, he'd seen this eye-pattern countless times - from the back of a broom. Cautiously spinning away to his right, Montague faced the three unmistakable goal hoops of a Quidditch pitch. The blue/bronze and yellow/black uniforms of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff players zipped thru his field of vision as they flew across the field, passing the Quaffle and smashing Bludgers. One Ravenclaw player spotted him where he hovered and made a mad dash toward him.

"AND CHANG'S GOT A JUMP ON THE SNITCH," the play-by-play announcer shouted.

Not for long.

He didn't understand how he got into this particular state, but Montague definitely understood this game. In his current role, it was very simple - don't get caught. Then his Slytherin mindset kicked in and he revised his strategy: Don't get caught, and inflict maximum damage to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams.

Snitches were prone to flee instead of fight, so Montague thought charging directly toward the Seeker would be a hilarious surprise - and he was right. The shocked, befuddled, mouth agape look on Chang's face was one of the funniest expressions he had seen in his lifetime. However, seeing her tonsils and sparkling white dental work was not as funny. He was headed straight for her open mouth before she sloth-rolled and disappeared behind him. A split second more and he would have added the inside of a Ravenclaw's stomach to the list of odd things he'd seen today.

"Whoa! That is one possessed snitch! Nice try Chang, but Harry Potter has the patent on the Bullet Swallow Catch," the announcer reported.

It was lucky for both of them she had yielded to his charge. He had tried to dodge left, but realized almost too late that he hadn't mastered all the mechanics of snitch flying yet. Hovering was easy. Straight and fast took little skill. However, turning and dodging were a little trickier than expected. He zoomed to the far edge of the pitch and took cover against the gold and red backdrop of a Gryffindor banner. From this vantage point, he could watch the field as he practiced zipping back and forth, up and down and spinning in tight circles.

He was pleasantly amazed at the way his wings responded - infinitely more responsive than his Nimbus 2001 racing broom and certainly more versatile in terms of changing direction. His golden body was near frictionless. When he moved, he could sense a change in temperature under his metallic skin. It took little time to ascertain that the faster he moved, the warmer he felt. The rising and falling pitch of his humming wings created even more warm, tingling delights in his snitch nerve center as he darted, hovered, and darted again. "Perfect Comfort" was the phrase that came to mind - as if, when he moved this way, he was fulfilling his true purpose in the universe. The speed - the warmth - was pure ecstasy. His actions - pure beauty.

This is incredible.

He also discovered his field of vision was enormous. Like looking at a refracted scene through a crystal ball, he could see in nearly every direction simultaneously. Visual information flowed into him from everywhere, practically overloading his brain. Only a small cone directly behind him was beyond his sight. (Montague now understood why the snitch darted side-to-side when being pursued. It was the only way to get the purser into view.) As he flitted from one spot to the next, the world would briefly fall out of focus, colors would warp into twisting streaks, then instantly snap into clarity as he hovered in his new location.

He quickly reached the point where he could just think about where he wanted to be and his gleaming silver wings instantly made it so. Buzzing the Seeker was a daring move for a rookie snitch, but now his fun could really begin.

He broke cover and started tailing a Hufflepuff Beater riding a Comet Two-Seventy. His superior vision made it easy to track the entire field, so he stayed in the wake of the Beater until he found himself in an advantageous position, then "revealed" himself to the Hufflepuff Seeker.

"Hey! Snot-nose," he shouted.

There was no need to shout. The Hufflepuff Seeker was performing his job well and spotted him immediately. In fact, both Seekers had seen the snitch. Montague turned and raced past the Beater in a blink of an eye and placed himself opposite the diving Seekers. The Beater was shocked by the appearance of the snitch right in front of his nose. He was doubly shocked when he looked behind him and saw two Seekers charging towards him at top speed. He attempted to get out of the way, but Montague flew into his face like a pesky gnat and caused the Beater to remain in place. The stunned Beater started swinging his bat wildly at the snitch, but only succeeded at smashing one of the Seeker's shoulders and the knuckles of the other as they bolted by.

Montague dropped below the Beater's feet and watched the Hufflepuff Seeker bite down the pain of a broken wrist. The Ravenclaw Seeker was in equal pain, but managed to regain control of her broom and circle back towards him.

The hapless Beater was still trying to comprehend what was going on when the Seekers charged at him again. This time, Montague kept the Seekers circling like the planets around the flummoxed Beater. After four or five loops each, the Seekers were so dizzy that when Montague pulled away from the fray, the Seekers couldn't fly straight in pursuit. The three players ended up in a tangled mess of bodies and brooms.

The Hufflepuff Captain called a time out.

The short pause gave Montague time to concoct more plans for wrecking the game. In his medieval mind, each Seeker was a lance and every other player was a knight to be jousted. When play resumed, chaos ensued. Montague led the Seekers into some truly spectacular mid-air collisions with the other players. From the perspective of the Quidditch fans, it appeared the Seekers were trying to skewer every other player on the tip of their broomsticks.

The enthusiastic crowd soon abandoned their favorite team and began cheering for him, Montague the Sadistic Snitch. They began chanting "Snitch! Snitch! Snitch!" each time he came out of hiding. Ovations and thunderous applause would follow every dramatic escape. They were even more raucous when his escape was coupled with a Seeker's out-of-control dive into the dirt or other "Oh, man that has got to hurt" display. Sometimes it seemed everyone in the stadium would hold their breath and go completely silent milliseconds before two players rammed each other - just so they could all hear the characteristic bik! of two heads colliding like coconuts.

After a clever maneuver that sent the Ravenclaw Keeper crashing through the middle goal post entangled with his own Seeker, Madam Hooch called a time out. She was staring at him with an inquisitive eye. He ignored her and danced a celebration dance for the rooting fans.

First, he did his best impersonation of a Dr. Filibuster firework launch by spiraling up to grandstand level. Then, he zigzagged in every direction like he was inscribing a fifty point star in the sky. He didn't think it was possible, but he managed to make himself dizzy. To the gallery, the snitch looked like it was a paddleball popping up and down on its elastic string. With flair of royal pageantry, he flew a lazy parade lap around the perimeter of the field.

Wow! This is fun - even more fun than Banishing Pansy Parkinson's brazier out from under her dress robes while she danced the Funky Hippogriff with Malfoy.

With a final double loop-de-loop, he found himself facing the silver and green grandstand of the Slytherin house. Not many of his Slytherin housemates had come out for the game, but all the members of his Quidditch team were there in the front row. Bletchley, Malfoy, Warrington, Crabbe, Goyle and Pucey, were all laughing and taunting the battered and bruised Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw players.

He was happy to see them following Captain's orders even in his absence. He didn't expect Crabbe and Goyle and the one brain cell they shared to learn anything from watching the competition. On the other hand, Malfoy's devious mind had concocted the "Weasley is our King" plan after watching the Gryffindor's practice. He was quite proud of Malfoy when the song successfully ruined the Gryffindor team.

I'm gonna recommend Professor Snape make Malfoy the Slytherin Quidditch Captain next year. Assuming -

He gazed past the grandstands to the silhouette of Hogwarts glowing in the late afternoon sun. He hovered and soaked up the image of his home through every facet his vision offered him. He watched the scene of his friends having a walloping good time mocking the Quidditch players on the pitch. Without even moving a centimeter, his golden skin burned with a searing desire for... Professor Snape.

I need to find Professor Snape.

Looking back to the Slytherin grandstand, Montague began searching for his Head of House. Snape wasn't in the cheering crowd as far as he could tell, but he noticed that he had captured Malfoy's full attention. Malfoy was pointing directly at him with a disturbed look on his face. He zipped over to him.

Malfoy! It's me, Montague!

Malfoy shouted back at him, but Montague could not hear what he was saying due to the piercing screeches of an eagle that emanated from an unusual hat worn by a dedicated Ravenclaw fan. Malfoy just kept shooing him away like an annoying bat.

Malfoy, you pathetic excuse for a Seeker, help me! I've been -

His view went black and his skin went cold as something swatted him from behind.

Play had resumed after the time out, and he had been close to stationary for the last ten seconds - plenty of time for even the most dismal and exhausted Seeker to catch him. The crowd erupted in simultaneous shouts of victory and groans of defeat. Once again, Montague paraded around the field, but the view from inside the gloved hand of the Hufflepuff Seeker wasn't as thrilling.

No! No! No! You idiot! Let me go!

He fought his captor's grip like a Mer-man out of water. It was pointless. His beautiful silver wings were trapped against him and would not budge. He glimpsed daylight occasionally and heard the muffled sounds of a team congratulating each other. He almost escaped when the Seeker handed him over to Madam Hooch, but she snagged him by a wing and immobilized him with a sharp tap of her wand.

"I'm gonna have to check the spell work on this little one later. It was acting awfully--shall I say-- 'Slytherin-like' today," she remarked to the Seeker. He simply nodded in response and flew away to join his teammates in celebration after a long, painful match.

Madam Hooch placed him in a little compartment in the Quidditch trunk. The Bludgers had been strapped in before him. They were evidently having a stimulating conversation with each other judging by the gurgling iambic pentameter being volleyed between them. It reminded Montague of Crabbe and Goyle conversing with their mouths stuffed. (The Bludgers' discussion undoubtedly contained more intellectually stimulating content.) The last thing he saw was Madam Hooch's gaunt, thin eye-browed face in full multi-dimensional view, slamming down the lid on the Quidditch trunk. All was dark; the Bludgers went silent.

Montague was at a complete loss. The best he could hope for was an early morning practice by one of the other house teams. Slytherin wouldn't be meeting since he, their captain, was missing. (At least he presumed that he was indeed missing from his regular plane of existence.)

That leaves the pathetic Gryffindor team to spring me loose - an easy escape for sure - but, once free, where should I go?

His chances of being rescued seemed to be diminishing the more he thought about it.

Inhabiting a Golden Snitch, locked inside a trunk, Montague gave into the darkness and imagined himself asleep.