The Quidditch Final

Harry slept badly. First he dreamed he'd overslept, and that Wood was yelling, 'Where were you? We had to use Neville instead!' Then he dreamed that Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team arrived for the match riding dragons. He was flying at breakneck speed. Trying to avoid the spurt of flames from Malfoy's steed's mouth, when he realised he had forgotten his Firebolt. He fell through the air, and woke with a start.

PoA, UK edition, Pg 223

Neville happily rose from his bed on that fine morning, smiling. Yes, today Gryffindor had a rather realistic chance of winning the Quidditch cup. And Neville, like all boys of his age, just couldn't say no to a good Quidditch match.

Neville glanced around, and discovered to his surprise he was the first awake. Normally Dean or Seamus or at least Harry was up before him. Ron was not expected to move until he absolutely had to.

Then something rather odd struck Neville. Harry's nerves normally had him up way earlier on the day of a big match. Confused, Neville stumbled over to Harry's bed. The noise attracted the attention of the sleeping Dean.

"Neville, what are you doing?" Dean moaned groggily. Neville pulled back the curtains around Harry's bed, only to see Harry, sound asleep. By this stage, Dean had risen from his bed.

"Neville, let him have his sleep," Dean said with a yawn. However, something still didn't seem right to Neville. He tried shaking Harry.

"Hey! Let him sleep!" Dean shouted. This loud noise managed to draw reaction from Seamus and Ron, but Harry still slept. Neville checked his pulse, and then his breathing.

"Oi!" Ron groaned. "What's going on?"

"Harry won't wake up," Neville said. He grabbed a glass of water, and threw it over Harry. No reaction.

Ron bolted up, shouting at Seamus and Dean to get Wood. Ron dashed over to his friend's beside, and began shaking him furiously. Neville stood back to let Ron do his thing.

A few moments later, Wood sprinted into the room, followed closely by Percy Weasley.

"What's going on, I'm Head Boy," Percy said. Wood dashed over to where Ron was now slapping Harry on the face.

"NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Wood screamed. "My Seeker's dead!"

"He's not dead!" Neville told him. "He's just asleep."

Unfortunately, Wood's scream had attracted the attention of the rest of the Gryffindors. Luckily, Percy seized the situation by the horns, and answered their questions with a few well chosen words.

"Nothing to see here, Head Boy business," he told them, puffing out his chest.

"Hey Percy," Fred shouted from the gathering crowd. "What happened to your badge?"

Percy glanced down at his chest, and noticed to his horror that the badge was missing. With a cry, he forced his way through the crowd and sprinted up the stairs.

Then, the Gryffindors got a look at the situation. Ron was there, slapping the hell out of something, Wood was at the foot of a bed, crying his eyes out and Neville was standing there perplexed. Luckily, Fred and George knew when a dangerous situation was brewing. They noticed it was Harry's bed everyone was standing over, and decided it best to part the crowd with a well placed Dungbomb. Everyone ran.

The twins burst into the room and slammed the door behind them, demanding an explanation. Then, Percy opened the door, and began telling off Fred and George as to why they shouldn't set off Dungbombs in the Gryffindor Tower, and that he would be writing to mother about this.

"Cheer up Oliver," Fred said with a sad smile, patting him on the back. "We'll win it next year for you." This, if at all possible, made Wood cry even louder. Then, Hermione arrived, dragging Angelina, Alicia and Katie behind her.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded, placing her hands on her hips. Then, she noticed the savage beating Ron was giving Harry, and ran over to drag him off.

"It must have been the Draft of the Living Death," Hermione said, after she had examined Harry. "But who in the school could have brewed such a complex potion."

"You mean other than you?" Ron asked, scowling. "Snape."

"Oh come on Ron, Snape wouldn't poison a student," Hermione said.

"What about Malfoy?" George asked. "Surely Snape's little protégé could come up with something like that."

"It doesn't matter who did it!" Wood snapped. He turned to Hermione. "Can you cure him?"

"The antidote takes a week to brew," Hermione said, drawing a sob from Wood. "Our only hope is that Snape might have the antidote." Ron made a rather inappropriate statement about how likely it was that Snape would give them an antidote.

Hermione didn't even bother telling him off. She was gazing at Harry as if debating something with herself. She was fingering something in her pocket.

"We have no choice!" Wood said, standing up. "We have to find a new Seeker. One of Harry's most trusted friends. An able-bodied flier!" At this Ron puffed out his chest.

"With a talent for dodging large round objects!" Fred continued. Ron was practically levitating now.

"And a knack for spotting little gold things!" George added. Ron's ears had definitely risen a bit.

"And someone devilishly handsome," Ron reminded him, thumping his chest.

"We need... Neville Longbottom!" Wood spun around, his finger pointed at the perplexed Neville. Ron went scarlet, and had to lean on the bedposts for support.

"What?" everyone asked in unison, except Harry who was still soundly asleep.

"Think about it," Wood said, touching a finger to his head. "The last thing they'll ever expect is for us to use Neville instead. They'll expect us to call off the match. They'll be so dumbfounded, they won't be able to concentrate, and they'll lose horribly in the most crushing defeat the great and mighty Gryffindor has ever delivered to its enemy."

"They'll not be the only ones dumbfounded," George told him.

"What?" was all Fred had to add.

"But I'm rubbish!" Neville pointed out.

"No you aren't Neville, I have faith in you," Wood exclaimed, grabbing Neville by the shoulders. "I have faith." There was something about Wood's expression that left the feeling his was not exactly sane at that moment in time. Whether it was the disturbing smile or the fact that his eyes were half-way out of their sockets it was difficult to tell.

"You can do it Neville," Hermione said, giving him a smile. At this point Ron was clutching his chest as if someone had ripped something out of it.

"It's not like we have any other options," Angelina added. "You're surely better than Percy." At the sound of a girl mentioning his name, Percy puffed out his chest.

"I'm Head Boy you know," he said in a very Lockhart-ish way.

*

Everyone was silent in the changing room. Neville struggled to hold down the little breakfast he had managed to eat, and was now having a lot of difficulty forcing his head into the left leg of his trousers. Luckily, Fred and George took it upon themselves to help Neville dress. Wood was in the corner, curled up in a ball and rocking backwards and forwards.

Whenever they were all ready, Wood stood up to give the team talk.

"Erm... weather's nice," was all he could manage in a feeble voice. "We need to win by two hundred and ten points so Neville, er. If you get a chance to catch the Snitch, don't do so until were... um... sixty points up."

"Very inspiring team talk," Fred said, nodding.

"We're all brimming with confidence now," George added.

At first Neville thought it was nice of them to reassure Wood by complimenting his team talk. Later on he began to think they may have been a touch sarcastic.

They walked out onto the pitch to a tidal wave of noise. Most of the crowd were sporting red and gold, but at the end of the ground behind the Slytherin goalposts was a sea of green, and at the very front was Snape, also wearing green and sneering.

"Here they come!" Lee Jordan's voice rang around the stadium. "The Gryffindors, widely regarded as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a long time." This was met by a lot of booing from the Slytherin end. However, the booing was overshadowed slightly by Lee's exclamation, "Hang on a second, where's Potter?"

Neville stood in the middle of a pitch, both hands clutching nervously at Harry's Firebolt. He could make out Snape's massive sneer from where he stood as the Slytherin end rang out with laughter, and the rest of the stadium held their heads in their hands.

"Um, it seems Wood's made a controversial personnel change at the last second," Lee told the crowd. "Oh and here come the Slytherins. Look at the size of them. Flint appears to have gone for size rather than skill."

Normally the Slytherins would have responded to this quite violently, but now they were too busy squealing with delight as Neville tried desperately to mount the broom. Then, Draco Malfoy walked out onto the pitch. His smirk made Neville want to crawl into the ground and die.

"And they're off!" Lee had shouted before Neville had realised what was happening. He tried to kick off, but he just fell over. This had the Slytherin team in stitches, who were too busy laughing to notice Gryffindor squeezing a few goals in.

Finally, Neville managed to get off the ground. But now he had the daunting task of learning how to fly. Somehow, he managed to get a decent height. However, once he was up there he decided he would be much happier on the ground. None the less, he rose above all of the action, and wobbled there.

"And it's forty-zero to Gryffindor!" Lee shouted with glee. Then, the Slytherins did indeed notice that there was a game taking place. Infuriated, Marcus Flint punched Katie Bell in the face. Needless to say, Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

"Alright there Longbottom?" Malfoy called smugly as he glided past effortlessly on his broom, before turning around to have another pop at him. "What ever happened to Potter? Or did he sleep in?" Malfoy had a superior smile on his face when he said this. He was apparently unconcerned about how badly Slytherin were losing.

Spurred on by the early goals, the Gryffindor Chasers were practically dropping them into the hoops. The Slytherins were not helping matters by giving away so many penalties. When Slytherin finally did score their first goal:

"Disallowed!" Lee shouted triumphantly over the boos of the Slytherin crowd. "There you go Flint, that's what happens when you kick a Gryffindor Goalkeeper in the crotch!"

This was not a good thing. Wood's new injury was somewhat aggravated by the fact he had to sit on a broom. He called time out.

Sadly, Neville had taken a long time to get up where he was, and was deathly afraid of falling. He motioned to Wood to say he was going to sit tight and look to the Snitch. Wood gave him the thumbs up.

"Selfless and utterly dedicated," Wood said, his hands returning to the source of pain. Just then, Hermione, Ron and Percy ran onto the pitch.

"Here, drink this," Hermione said, handing him a deep purple potion.

"What's it do?" Wood asked after he'd drank the lot.

"It nullifies the pain," Hermione said. "But you'll feel a bit delirious for a while."

"I'm absolutely fine," Wood said, although now he looked confused as well as in pain.

"Although it's not exactly a brilliant remedy," Hermione added. "Some scholars say it doesn't help for major injuries."

"Why do you have that stuff lying around anyway?" George asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's my, um," Hermione paused. "It's for my time..." She turned scarlet.

"Say no more my little friend," Fred said, touching a finger to his nose. Ron looked perplexed.

"Let's get back out there!" Wood roared with triumph. He mounted his broom, and flew straight at his goalposts. No, that should be straight into his goalposts.

"I'm fine!" Wood protested.

"No you're not," Fred told him.

"You're going to sit down until there are only three goalposts," George said sternly.

"It doesn't matter how many goalposts there are! I'm brilliant, I'll block them all!" As they forced Wood to sit down on a conveniently placed bench, Madam Hooch came across and said if they weren't ready soon they'd start the match without them.

"We need a new goalkeeper," Fred said, turning to his team-mates.

"And an excellent shot-stopper mind," George told them.

"We're a hundred and ten points ahead, so it can't be too bad," Katie said.

"We need someone of precision," Angelina said.

"Someone to take action!" Alicia added. Ron's chest had been puffed out again.

"Someone not afraid to donate their body to defend against the onslaught of the Slytherin attack!" Fred added.

"They'd have to be mighty brave to do that," George reminded him. Ron's chest was by now so far out it was in danger of falling off.

"Hermione!" Wood roared with triumph. Everyone was stunned until George said:

"No Wood, I meant Ro-"

"I'm Captain, get her some robes and get her up there!" Wood said, waving a hand to the skies. No matter how hard they tried to reason with Wood, he was having none of it. With Ron on the brink of tears, Hermione mounted the broom. Rather shakily, she flew (wobbled) towards the goalposts.

If at all possible, the Slytherins were laughing even harder now. Snape looked so full of glee he might explode.

Neville glared across at Malfoy, who was now howling with laughter.

"Look at the dirty little Mudblood, thinks she can fly!" he called to Neville.

When the game was restarted, Marcus Flint had the Quaffle. With a smile, he shrugged off Angelina's attempts to steal the Quaffle. Then, he shot.

"Oh my god she actually saved it," Lee said. At this point, Malfoy had stopped laughing. Infuriated, he decided to take his anger out by poking Neville.

Slowly but surely, the Slytherins grew more and more frustrated with Hermione saves. And slowly but surely, the vein on Neville's head expanded.

Then he snapped.

He promptly grabbed George's bat, and swung it for Malfoy's head. He missed, and broke the bat of George's head. Then, Neville got hit in the back with a Bludger. Losing control of the broom, Neville spun round and round.

This was too much for Malfoy. At first it was just a bit of a giggle, but soon enough he found he couldn't contain himself. The sight of Neville fighting to regain control of the broom had his roaring with laughter. Then, he gently lowered his broom to the ground, where he rolled onto the ground, howling.

And inevitably, Neville crashed. Neville's meeting with the crowd caused Malfoy to roll onto his front and bang his fists against the ground. In the front row of the crowd, Snape had fainted from excessive happiness.

Then, rising from the clash, Neville saw it. Glimmering behind Malfoy's shoulder was a golden ball, about the size of a walnut. Malfoy was blinded by tears of laughter as Neville crawled across the ground, and with one triumphant leap he wrapped his hand around the Golden Snitch.

"HE'S DONE IT!" Lee roared in triumph. "GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!"

Neville was swept up by the sea of red that charged down from the stands. And he was sure he'd remember the image of Wood, eyes filled with tears, passing the cup to Neville for the rest of his life.

*

Harry woke up, and gazed around the room. In the bed next to him, Neville was sitting, admiring a round golden object in his hand.

"What's up Neville?" Harry asked, sitting up.

"Nothing," Neville answered.

"Ready for the big match?" Harry asked. Neville paled slightly. Luckily for him, at that moment Ron came into the room, accompanied by an unusually giggly Hermione.

"I swear, I never seen flying like that," Ron said, and he noticed Harry was awake. His face fell.

"I think you should tell him," Neville said, walking out the door past them. With a laugh, he walked into the common room, where he was greeted by the cheers of his fellow Gryffindors, the screams of disbelief from his dorm room, and the hoisting above his head of the Golden Snitch.