The Dementors' Kiss

Chapter Ten: Slytherin vs Gryffindor

"Introducing the Slytherin team. Beaters Crabbe and Goyle, Chasers Higgs, Zabini and Pucey, Goalkeeper Graham Pritchard -just twelve years old, hope nerves get the better of him-"

"JORDAN!"

"-sorry Professor, seriously, good luck kid. I'm sure Crabbe and Goyle won't be too upset if you lose."

Pritchard threw a nervous glance at the hulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle, balanced on top of their brand new broomsticks like elephants on top of knitting needles. They scowled fiercely at everyone and everything, and didn't look at all happy about being up there. Lee had heard that Slytherin had had trouble finding players for their team this year, as they had been so badly beaten by almost everyone in recent years.

"And, of course, the Slytherin Seeker and, since his dad bought the team a set of Nimbus 2010 brooms, their captain-"

"JORDAN!"

"It's true, Professor, we all know it."

Professor McGonagall huffed slightly. "Be that as it may, unless you have proof of bribery, I would prefer you to refrain from such accusations."

"Yes, well, new captain and all around ferret-"

"JORDAN!"

"-Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy waved to the crowd as he swung past on his new broom. Lee admired its sleek lines, but knew that it didn't handle as well as the Firebolt which was flown by Harry Potter.

In the stands by the changing room, Harry stood before the Gryffindor team. Ron was leaning his head against the wall, muttering to himself. He looked slightly ill, and Harry hoped that he wouldn't throw up once they got on the pitch.

"Okay, we all know how this goes. It's Slytherin out there. They're good, and they've got good brooms, but I know that we're better. We've got experience, talent, and a burning desire to wipe the smug grin off Malfoy's face, right Ron?"

Ron managed a weak nod, but still looked a little green.

"Okay," Harry said, his stomach suddenly giving a violent lurch as he turned to face the doors. "Let's do it."

They mounted their brooms, and the doors swung open before them. As one, they accelerated upwards, a great roar of approval rising from the three-quarters of the crowd who weren't Slytherins. Harry beamed as he relished being back on a broom in front of a huge crowd. He looked back towards Ron, who was puttering along at the back of the team on his Shooting Star. He waved to his friend, who made an uncertain gesture that looked like a wave in return.

"The reigning champions, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Bell, Spinnet, Johnson and Potter, I give you GRYFFINDOR!"

As Lee's magically magnified voice rose above the calls of the crowd, Madam Hooch's whistle called the teams forward. Harry and Ron dropped to the ground to face Malfoy, simultaneous scowls on their faces to warn the Slytherin not to try anything.

"Well, Putter and Diseasely. I was made captain because I'm the best flyer on the team. What about you?"

"Us? We were the best people for the job. We know more about Quidditch then just how to cheat and buy popularity," Harry said. He scowled at Malfoy. "Be honest for once, Malfoy, you bought the captaincy, same way you did your place on the team."

"So what if I did?" Malfoy sneered. "Besides, being captain has certain fringe benefits, although I suppose you oh-so-noble Gryffindors wouldn't be interested in taking advantage of them."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron spat. He glared at the Slytherin.

"Well, let's just say that the girls love a Quidditch player. Is that why you have the Mudblood hanging around you all the time, Potter?"

Harry's gauntleted hand slapped across Ron's chest in readiness to hold him back, but Ron didn't move. He and Malfoy looked at Ron in mutual astonishment. Ron was scowling at Malfoy, but made no attempt to attack him. Instead, a knowing smile spread over his features.

"I'll make you pay for that, Malfoy. Here. Today. You're going to lose this match."

"Don't bet on it, you penniless worm."

Malfoy span on his heel and marched away, remembering after several seconds that he had a broom with him. He scowled, mounted up, and flew up towards his team as Madam Hooch landed beside Ron and Harry. Without an opposition player to shake hands with, the two friends shook each other's hands.

"You'll do great," Harry said, gripping Ron's hand as he held his gaze.

"Yeah, well, I'll try and keep the score low enough that you can catch the Snitch and win," Ron said, a hint of green returning to his face.

"When you're ready," Madam Hooch said. They nodded to her, and mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch waited until they were in position and released the Bludgers. They sped up in the air, and immediately honed in on Harry and Draco. George Weasley deflected one easily enough, but Crabbe missed the one that came at the Slytherins, forcing Malfoy to dip his broom quickly, nearly sending him off it.

"Nice one," Lee crowed, his laughter echoing around the stadium. Harry realised that Lee's was the only voice to be heard. The rest of the stadium was watching expectantly, the first Quidditch match in over a year had tensions running at breaking point.

Madam Hooch bent over the trunk once more, and released the Snitch. It darted upwards and then vanished into the stands by the Hufflepuffs.

And then Madam Hooch stood up straight, the Quaffle in her hands, her whistle held between her lips. With a sharp shrill note, she hurled the Quaffle upwards, and the match was on.

Angelina sped forward on her broom, but even her Nimbus 2000 was too slow as Blaise Zabini seized the Quaffle and flicked neatly around a Bludger hit by Fred. Zabini passed forward to Higgs, a seventh year who had been the Slytherin Seeker before Malfoy bought his way onto the team. Higgs looked as though he had a point to prove, and immediately jinked his way through the challenges of Angelina and Katie Bell. Harry grimaced. He hadn't been expecting Malfoy to opt for skilful Chasers in the wake of Marcus Flint's departure. The Slytherin way had always been brawn over brain, but Zabini and Higgs looked very good indeed.

"Zabini, Higgs, Zabini, Higgs, dive, Ron, dive. . . Oh no! Ten-nil to Slytherin."

As quickly as that, the match was on. The Bludgers flew mercilessly. Slytherin Chaser Pucey was unseated by a well aimed blow from Fred Weasley, and had to dangle from his broom while Gryffindor enjoyed a purple patch, exploiting their numerical advantage to score three times.

"What's the matter, Pucey, can't you manage a chin up? I thought all of you Slytherins were supposed to be big and strong!"

"JORDAN! If you can't be impartial. . ."

Katie Bell suffered a bloody nose when Crabbe gave up on hitting the Bludger -he hadn't even come close in the twenty minutes that the match had lasted so far- and instead just hit her in the face with his club. Hooch was so furious she gave three penalties to Gryffindor and put Crabbe in detention for a week. Lee was too furious to laugh at the Slytherin Beater, however, the concern for his friend shining through in his commentary. His joy as she recovered to take the last of the three penalties, however, was obvious.

"Yes! Thirty more points for Gryffindor! That's eighty-twenty! Well done, Katie!"

Goyle took the opportunity of a break in play to try and hit a Bludger at the commentary box. With a wave of her wand, Professor McGonagall stopped the Bludger in mid-air, which allowed Fred to speed up to it and send it crashing into Pucey's stomach. The Slytherin Chaser dropped the Quaffle, allowing Angelina to speed through and score under Graham Pritchard before the young Slytherin even knew she was there.

It was turning into a massacre, and Harry almost felt sorry for the Slytherins. Their Chasers were obviously talented, and had it not been for the uselessness of Crabbe and Goyle, it would have been a very fair match. Malfoy looked exasperated with his friends and, as Alicia Spinnet put Gryffindor up by 100 points to 20, he called for a timeout.

The Slytherin team sank to the ground, Malfoy gesticulating wildly as he glared at Crabbe and Goyle. To Harry's amazement, he snatched Crabbe's club and hit the Beater across the head with it. Crabbe looked dazed, and then toppled backwards, crashing to the ground.

"Well, unusual man-management technique from Malfoy of Slytherin there," Lee commented. "But yes, he's signalling for a substitution. Crabbe gets stretchered off the pitch by Madame Pomfrey -don't worry, it's only a head injury folks- and on comes another second year, Malcolm Baddock. Some of our older students may remember young Malcolm's brother as a rather useful Beater for Slytherin about six or seven years ago. Let's see if the family genes are with young Malcolm, or if he's being too much too soon for our young debutant."

Baddock looked supremely confident as he took Crabbe's -slightly dented- beating bat. He soared upwards on the Nimbus 2010 and immediately cracked a Bludger straight at Harry. Madam Hooch blew her whistle to signify the match's restart, and suddenly Slytherin looked a lot more confident.

The tide had turned. With Baddock at the heart of their attack, Slytherin looked much more competent. They pushed forward at every chance, and while they were still hampered by Goyle's presence, Gryffindor were in turn hampered by Ron.

Harry watched in horror as Blaise Zabini drew Ron further and further wide of the Gryffindor goalposts. Fred and George yelled at Ron to cover his goals, btu Ron didn't hear them. He looked nervous, and very ill, and when Zabini flicked the Quaffle over his head, it was an easy matter for Pucey to catch it and score through Ron's uncovered left post.

Harry, the twins, and the three Chasers all took turns suggesting ways for Ron to improve. Some, in the case of Harry and the Chasers were genuine, other, in the case of the twins, were less so. Harry watched Ron flinch under Fred's murderous glare and wanted to break it up. Slytherin had pulled things back, and were now in the lead by forty points. It was 150-110 and there had been no sign of the Snitch in the hour and more that the match had lasted.

Harry dived forward, eager to break up another Slytherin attack. He pushed down on his broom, eager to squeeze every last drop of speed from it, but he was a fraction of a second too late. He collided with Pucey just as the Slytherin Chaser threw the Quaffle to Zabini. It was an easy task for Zabini to score past Ron as the Gryffindor watched Harry spiral upwards, struggling to regain control of his broom.

"And both Pucey and Potter seem to have come out of the collision okay, although Potter is struggling to hold his broom straight, however, as we all know, Harry's on a Firebolt and so he'll be back on track in just a few seconds."

Even as Lee finished praising Harry's broom, he brought it back under control. With a start, he realised he was hovering right in front of his Gryffindor friends. The match temporarily lost its importance as he locked eyes with Ginny, whose expression was as fierce as Ron's ever was. A new determination filled him, and he was about to turn back to the match when something broke across the gaze he was sharing with Ginny. He looked over at Hermione who was gesturing madly and screaming at the top of her lungs. Harry spun around, and saw Zabini, Pucey and Higgs bearing down on the Gryffindor goal once more. Harry kicked forward, willing his Firebolt to greater and greater speeds even as he realised he was far too late. There was no-one but Ron to stop the three attackers and with a great accompanying groan from the crowd Higgs faked a throw to Pucey and then slotted the Quaffle neatly through Ron's unprotected left hoop.

Ron sunk down to the ground to collect the Quaffle, a dejected look about him. Harry paused in mid-air, glancing back over his shoulder at Hermione, whose gaze was still fixed on Ron. An idea arrived, fully formed, in his mind.

"Ron," he said, sliding smoothly to a halt beside his friend as Ron prepared to remount his broom.

"Just. . . don't, okay? I know I'm going to cost us the match."

"Only if you want to," Harry said. "Listen, if you don't start playing better, I'm going to tell Hermione how you feel about her."

Ron froze, and then turned an expression of abject horror on Harry.

"You wouldn't dare," he stammered.

"Try me," Harry said, kicking off and accelerating up into the air again. Ron sped after him, and with a great roar he threw the Quaffle as hard as he could at Harry's retreating form. Harry flicked his broom at the last second, sending the Quaffle out from under Pucey's fingers at the last second and neatly into the grip of Angelina who rewarded the neat, not-quite-illegal manoeuvre with a terrific shot. Pritchard was left clutching thin air as it rocketed past him to make the score 160-120.

From that point on, Ron played like a man possessed. As the Gryffindor attack pulled back the deficit, every shot, every cross, every pass from the Slytherin Chasers was neatly intercepted. At one point he repeated Harry's flick, succeeding in knocking the beating bat from Baddock's hand just before he was about to send a Bludger at Katie Bell. The Bludger instead sailed past him, catching a very surprised Draco Malfoy in the stomach and sending the Slytherin Seeker off his broom and into the crowd of Slytherin supporters who, fortunately for him, were only a few feet below.

And there, suddenly, was the Snitch.

It hovered tantalisingly a few feet away from Harry, and then took off across the pitch. With Malfoy nowhere to be seen, the outcome was never in doubt. Harry chased the Snitch across the width of the pitch, seizing it in front of the roaring Gryffindor supporters, almost exactly where he had been a few minutes earlier.

And, once again, the importance of the match fell away behind him as his gaze met Ginny Weasley's.

*

The Gryffindor common room was a riot that evening. Ron sat quietly on one side of the room, watching Ginny, Hermione and the three Chasers form the eye of the hurricane of wild behaviour that swept through the common room.

"What d'you reckon they're talking about?"

"Dunno," Harry said. "Are you okay?"

"I am now," Ron said, glaring at Harry before breaking into a grin. "I still don't think that was in the Quidditch Captain's handbook Oliver was always reading."

"I'll have to send an owl to the publishers," Harry replied. He glanced over at the five girls, uncomfortably aware that it was the same group who had been together when Fred and George had upset Ginny at the Leaky Cauldron. This time, however, Ginny looked. . . okay. Not as overjoyed as her brothers, but she was laughing, despite the serious look on her face.

He became aware that Hermione was looking at Ron and him with an intent look on her face. He was just about to point this out to Ron when Dean, Seamus and Neville swooped down on their victorious roommates. As they were borne away, Harry looked back at the girls, and saw them making their way through the wild party, towards the girls' dormitory stairs.

It's nothing to worry about. Probably.

Maybe, anyway.