Mark of Ancients

HARRY POTTER AND THE MARK OF ANCIENTS

-1. Fighting Fire With Cold

-2. Fiery Finish

-3. No Way Out

-4. Miraculum Sensi

-5. An Ancient Truth

-6. Now What

-7. Losing Friends

-8. The Mystery Girl

-9. The Long Day

-10. Firey Quidditch

-11. Sirius

-12. Emotion Escape

-13. The Spirit Mirror

-14. Harry's Bright Idea

-15. Ancient At Work

-16. Motum Cicatrix

-17. The End Of A Legend

Chapter 1: FIGHTING FIRE WITH COLD

    Madam Hooch had been trying to calm Harry for the longest time.

    "No, Harry. For the hundredth time, you aren't going to die." Harry wasn't listening.

    "Just because I was the youngest Seeker in one hundred years to play on a Quidditch team doesn't mean I should be the youngest player to ever be on a Fire Quidditch team," he said hoarsely.

    "You're going to be just fine."

    "What if I get hit by a fireball? Will I be just fine then?"

    Madam Hooch sighed.

    "Fine," she snapped. "You're telling everyone if you quit, not me."

    She stormed out of the room and slammed the door. Harry was dearly troubled. Madam Hooch had been part of the experimental Fire Quidditch committee. Some people got a smart idea in their head about a far more dangerous version of the popular wizard sport, Quidditch. In the real game, there are seven players. Three Chasers whose job it was to score points by throwing a ball, the Quaffle, into one of three hoops. One Keeper from each team tries to defend the hoops for their team. Beaters smack around live balls to knock other players off their brooms. The Bludgers, the living balls, do a nice job by themselves. One year a bludger broke Harry's arm. Harry was a Seeker. All Seekers had to do was catch an annoyingly hard to find ball called the Golden Snitch. This would earn the catching Seeker's team one hundred and fifty points as well as end the game.

    Fire Quidditch is a far more dangerous game. The players' jobs remain the same except there are a few... enhancements... to the three balls. The Quaffle becomes a high speed projectile capable of speeds near the speed of sound itself. One year a Chaser broke the sound barrier. The resulting shockwave broke the Snitch and everything made of glass within a mile shattered. The Bludgers are enchanted with fire and as such became deadly fireballs with a mind of their own. Beaters are given special clubs that will not melt in the several-hundred-degree heat the Bludgers give off. Several players have been hit by the fireballs and all of which have died. The Golden Snitch, to make matters worse, has knives attached to it that move on their own. One unlucky fellow accidentally swallowed the "Spiked Snitch" as fans called it. The unlucky fellow died in a hospital days later due to stomach damage which magic could not repair. Only two countries ever bothered to participate: The United States and Britain. Year after year, The United States won... it just seemed their players were crazier.

    At one point, a rule was enforced that if a player dies, that team automatically loses. This did little more than lengthen games by an average of a few minutes. Years before, several players on a team would die before games were to be called off. All players were more recently required to know several spells: self healing, throw shards of ice and metal bending. Only the bravest, most couragest... and stupidest wizards played. The youngest player to date was in his thirties until a fireball to the head abruptly ended his career. Harry was only fifteen, surely this was suicide?

    Madam Hooch didn't get too far before Harry said, "Okay, I'll make the announcement tomorrow at dinner," grudgingly. She stopped and poked her head back in.

    "If you change your mind... you can sign up on the player backlist."

    "Fine."

    "Fine!"

    Fire Quidditch is only held once a year but the rules change each time and each time someone still dies. This year, if a player is injured, the next name at the top of the player backlist takes their place. Each is only allowed five replacements. Everyone says the last player to get put into the game will be the one that dies this year, no one has any doubts. The one change that bothers everyone is the change in field size. It is now twice as wide and four times longer than a regular Quidditch field. Some say this is to give players more room to move in, others say it was because of the sudden growth in popularity. Word had got out that Harry Potter might be playing...

    Madam Hooch stormed out yet again but this time Harry heard her footsteps fade away. He went back to his four-post bed up in Gryffindor Tower. They had been arguing for almost an hour. Madam Hooch caught word of Fire Quidditch just three days ago from the International Ministry of Quidditch. They desperately needed players and sent out memos to all their members. She told Harry that very morning. Normally she wouldn't have bothered, but the new safety measures, the Ministry assured her, would prevent any more casualties. News of Harry playing spread because she wrote back immediately before consulting him. Harry thought he would never forgive her.

    Harry ran up to his room. Hermione snuck in and had been talking to Ron.

    "Hey, Harry! So, you playing?" said Ron with enough excitement for himself and Hermione combined.

    "I'm not playing." Ron's smile turned upside down.

    "Ron, you know how dangerous that game is," said Hermione comfortingly. She turned to Harry and said, "I don't blame you." She gave Ron a piercing stare. "We wouldn't want his guts splattered all over now, would we?"

    "Don't remind me of what the Golden Snitch did someone two years ago," Harry groaned. "And don't blame me, blame Madam Hooch." He sat down on his bed. "Good night."

    Ron knew better this time than to bother him further. The past two nights, Harry had been grumpy. Ron got a very sudden attack of slug-belching last night, you might even say the source was Harry.

    Harry didn't talk much the next day. Futile attempts were made to ask him about participating. They all thought he was preparing mentally... he was just hiding his anger. Dinner finally came and the usual end of day announcements were to be made. It was only a week into the Hogwarts term, but to him it felt like a year already. To Harry's great relief, Professor Dumbledore, headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, relieved Harry of having to make the announcement himself.

    "The first announcement of the night concerns Fire Quidditch," Dumbledore started.

    "Oh Ron, hide me," said Harry nervously.

    "Harry Potter does not wish to be participating." Lots of murmuring filled the Great Hall. "You should respect his decision." The murmuring only grew louder. "Okay then, I'd like to see some of you sign up," he said grinning and the talking ceased.

    "The second and final announcement also concerns Fire Quidditch. It has come to our attention that Britain's team is short one player." Everyone started talking. "HOWEVER!" Dumbledore bellowed, "the International Ministry of Quidditch will still allow the team to play. For any student wishing to attend, notices have been sent home. I'm sure they would know if you want to go or not."

    "Is Harry going?" someone yelled out.

    "No," Harry yelled back.

    He definitely knew The Dursley's wouldn't let him go. They almost lost him three times in under four years. Then again, the chance to be rid of him was very tempting. Harry went to bed without dinner that night.

    Fire Quidditch was a mostly school-run event. The International Ministry of Quidditch couldn't find any money from charities or other organizations after the first five years, too many people had died. Schools around the globe had thrown up support for it simply due to the money-making venture. Indeed, schools that could not normally stay open due to financial issues made sizeable profits.

    The next day arrived and no one wanted to even look at Harry. He didn't mind though, better no one talk to him than to mention Fire Quidditch. A few days passed and Harry got his friends back, other than Hermione and Ron that is. Finally, Professor Dumbledore made the announcement everyone was waiting for Thursday that week.

    "I have the date, time and place of where this year's Fire Quidditch match will be taking place." The room exploded. "The same place as last year's Quidditch World Cup this Saturday. They start promptly at 10:00 P.M.! And yes, I have received a signed form from every single student except for..." and he took out a small roll of parchment, "nevermind," he said shooting a quick but noticeable grin to Harry.

    "Is Harry going?" someone yelled out again.

    Harry stood up and said furiously, "Are you crazy? Of course I'm NOT GOING!"

    Harry's fingers glittered at the thought but it quickly faded away. Not three weeks ago, he found out he had a Mark of Ancients. Ancients were several thousand-year-old wizards whose mark was the glittering of skin. Such a mark causes the wizard with it to be able to use stronger magic with little or no effort as well as boosting the effectiveness of magic already usable. Harry learned how to control the mark and it only appeared when he wanted it to. The mark can make skin glow white when it is at full power.

    Hermione looked up at Harry in disgust. "Sit down, they're staring at you," she whispered. Indeed, a few people were staring at Harry... including Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore continued his announcement.

    "Britain. is still short one player and as I mentioned, the team is still allowed to play. Of course, if the player backlist runs out, they are automatically disqualified. As a result," he said with a deep sigh, "it would seem our chances of winning are as great as..." and then he said with a smile, "You-Know-Who taking Mr. Potter from us." Small spurts of laughter could be heard around the room. Harry smiled the biggest smile. Voldemort, affectionately known as You-Know-Who by most, tried and failed five times to kill Harry. Most people hope he would just give up as it didn't look like it was ever going to happen. False security however, Professor Dumbledore reminded Harry time and time again, is the most dangerous. He finished up with, "To accommodate, all classes for tomorrow... will be canceled."

    The Great Hall was never louder.

    After the announcement (and the ringing in everyone's ears died down), Professor Dumbledore walked over to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

    "You probably know the name I didn't bother calling on that list, you three." Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll let you go and nobody will be none the wiser." Dumbledore's eyes glowed.

    "My parents are meeting me here tomorrow night, Harry," Ron informed him. "Hermione's parents don't want to watch, but she's going too. You can come with us. You do want to come, don't you?"

    Harry was torn. Should be go, not play, and upset everyone? Or not go, don't play and still upset everyone?

    "Okay, I'll go." Ron gave him a look of excitement and was teetering on the edge of asking something. "No, I'm still not playing."

    That reply put an end to Ron's teeter. Professor Dumbledore gave Harry a pat on the back. Hagrid had been crying the whole time. It was anyone's guess whether he was upset that Harry wasn't going to play or the fact that his food bit him on the finger. Peeves, the school poltergeist, had been practicing possessing objects.

    That night came and went. The next afternoon came and went. Harry didn't know whether to feel happy or upset. Most everyone in the wizarding world wanted to see him play Fire Quidditch... it was all Madam Hooch's fault. He was happy that he could go watch the game but he still didn't want to play, definitely not. There mere thought of a fireball chasing him, or having to catch a Golden Snitch laden with knives made him quiver.

    Saturday morning Harry woke up to lots of chattering he wished would go away.

    "Harry, come on wake up! It's 4:00 A.M.! We have to get started now or we won't make it in time," Ron said. Harry wasn't awake. He rolled over and fell on the floor still half asleep. Ginny, Ron's little sister (who everyone knew had a crush on Harry) let out a short-lived giggle.

    "Why so early?" asked Harry slurring his words.

    "Because this year we don't want to have to get caught by Muggles."

    "Can't I just Disapparate all of us there?" He climbed back into his bed and lay on his stomach.

    "Eh? I hadn't thought of that." Harry groaned and put his pillow over his head. Ron said something that sounded like "Let ask me mum." Harry fell back to sleep.

    What seemed like no more than seconds later, Ron was again standing over Harry, poking him with a finger.

    "It's 9:00 A.M.! Out of bed. Now!" squealed Mrs. Weasley from behind Ron. Harry rolled over and once again fell out of bed. He stood up quickly obviously embarrassed from having done so twice now. Harry staggered his way over to a drawer pulling out a clean red sweatshirt and a pair of khaki pants.

    "If we're Apparating there you don't have to wear those horrid Muggle clothes," Mrs. Weasley reminded him. With a snap of his fingers, Harry was instantly dressed in the usual Hogwarts robes except the usual black cloak was white.

    "I need a change of scenery," he yawned. Mrs. Weasley liked it. "We do have time to eat something, don't we?"

    "Of course, dear."

    Harry kept yawning on his way out through the Gryffindor common room, down stairs and into the Great Hall. There were only a few people eating breakfast. Most of them, Harry guessed, were either not going or were going to be late. Ron strolled down taking a seat next to Harry. The rest of the Weasleys followed him. Harry stuffed almost his entire plate of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He had trouble chewing it.

    "Nervous?" asked Ron.

    "About what?"

    "You tell me."

    Harry sighed, put his fork down, put his elbows on the edge of the table and rested his head between his hands letting out a deep breath.

    "I don't know... whether to be... happy... or... worried... or," he said with a great deal of anxiety.

    "You still choked up over that? Cmon, Harry, don't let it get to you. You don't want to play, so what?" Harry picked up his fork with one hand, head still on the other and jammed it in a big wad of food. He then tried to stick the fork in his nose thinking it was his mouth. Ron laughed. Harry did a good job of getting eggs up his nose because he didn't notice until Ron told him "your mouth is moving but the eggs aren't anywhere near it." Harry blew his nose on a napkin.

    "I'm not hungry anymore. Let's go."

    "Ginny, hold on to me," said Mrs. Weasley.

    "Everyone hold onto someone else's hand and two of you hold onto mine. Better off we're touching when I do it, lessens the chance of accidents," he said, winking at Fred and George. They stood in a circle and joined hands. Hermione and Ron were holding onto Harry. His skin started to glitter and they all appeared dead center of the Fire Quidditch field.

    "Quick, move before someone notices," he whispered. Harry's cheeks were glowing pink with embarrassment. The Mark of Ancients was glowing white and his cheeks became red as apples.

    "Turn that stupid thing off, Harry," said Hermione.

    "Oops," he said as the glow disappeared. "Let's get a seat up there, there's nine, just right." Ron's two oldest brothers probably traveled here by themselves.

    "DUCK!" Ginny shouted. Harry did as told as a fire-glazed Bludger whizzed over his head. They watched as it flew far out and turned around to come back for a second try. Harry ducked it again, inches from hitting him on the head, and it flew off into the distance.

    He looked up at Mr. Weasley who had a look of utter shock on his face. "Why did that try to come at me?"

    "They sometimes let out Bludgers pre-game to test them," Hermione explained. "You're not supposed to walk around in the field... a few years ago the only death was someone who walked onto the field to go see a friend."

    They turned around as someone came running over.

    "Harry Potter I presume!" said the old wizard dressed in Quidditch robes. His cloak had "International Ministry of Quidditch" written down the buttons Harry noticed. He grabbed Harry's hand and shook it much too hard for Harry's liking.

    "Yeah..."

    "Such a shame you won't be playing today, Mr. Potter! Madam Hooch has told us so much about you!" There was so much glee in him Harry felt rather uncomfortable. "Such a pleasure to meet you." The violent shaking of Harry's hand stopped. "Maybe next year?"

    "Maybe!" said Harry exuberantly, expertly hiding the fact that he really wanted to say hell no. "We really should be going, have to have good seats you know."

    "Yes, well, nice meeting you!" He totally ignored everyone else and walked away.

    "I'll never get used to that," said Harry eyeing the man nervously as he walked away.

    "Let's go sit, shall we?" said Mrs. Weasley. It took several minutes to walk across the field the long way by foot. They stopped just a few feet short of the stands. The Golden Snitch whizzed by Harry's head and he felt just short of wanting to play. The thought was beaten down as another Bludger took a shot at Percy. It skimmed his arm leaving his robes smoking.

    "And you people wonder why I don't want to play."

    The Bludger came back and Harry hit it with a levitation charm with a glowing hand. The Bludger went flying into the air and through a the tallest ring on the opposite side of the field. Harry impressed himself. There were a few oohs and ahhs from the crowd. The nine of them heard a few voices whispering, "Harry Potter!"

    "I still don't see why you won't play, Harry. You just scored a goal with a Bludger," said Ron with a faint smile.

    "Do you want to be belching slugs for a third time? You forgot that Bludgers in Fire Quidditch are really on fire and they aggressively attack Seekers who are chasing the Snitch," he said angrily as he plopped himself hard into a seat.

    Someone with a magically loud voice began to speak. "Welcome to the International Ministry of Quidditch's 1996 Fire Quidditch game!" Loud clapping erupted from all the stands. "May we remind you to not walk across the field! Our Bludgers may not miss you!" It was the man they ran into earlier. Harry covered his head with his cloak and tried not to look. "We do have a spectacular game for you tonight! The United States of America versus Britain.!

    "As you all know by now, several more new rules took effect this year. For one, the field is much bigger. We hope this will lessen the number of contacts with Bludgers but we did, however, make them three times faster. There is now a player backlist as well. Five extra souls signed themselves up to take their teammate's positions should they be injured. Note that this means the game will not end until the Snitch is caught, as usual, or the entire list of players has been depleted --"

    The man's speech droned on and on but Harry stopped paying attention.

    After some fifteen minutes, it was ten o'clock and the players rose up on their brooms into the middle of the field. "Our fourteen brave souls fly out onto the field, the Snitch is up, the Bludgers are out... the Quaffle is released! The game begins!"

    Someone else was the game announcer. "USA Chaser number one takes possession! Oooh close encounter with a lot of heat! Through Britain's Chasers, dodges another Bludger and right past the Keeper! Ten points for USA! Quaffle back into play, Britain. in possession. Number two races down the middle. Oh, only to be smacked down by USA Chaser two! USA in possession! Close encounter with the degree kind, he drops it! Britain's ball. Down the left end... he's gonna feel that one tomorrow morning! USA's ball. Thrown into the air, number three spins on his broom, perfect score! Twenty-zero USA!" The game was obviously very one sided. Fourty-zero, fifty-zero... then finally someone spotted the Snitch after thirty minutes.

    "Britain. Seeker spots the snitch! Down the middle, past the Keepers, through a few Chasers, ooh narrow miss by USA Beater number one! He's closing in on the snitch! In comes the USA Seeker! Such a shame, Britain's Seeker's broom caught on fire. Please wait five minutes before the person on top of their player backlist can be put in!"

    Harry pointed out to Ron the condition of the Seeker's broom. Within seconds, it had burned to nothing and he fell flat onto the sand. Lucky for him he realized the Bludger was going after him and he managed to drop a considerable height before contact. It was looking hopeless for Britain. Seventy-zero, eighty-zero...

    "Cheer up folks, no deaths yet!" The announcer spoke too soon. "Oh my, Bludger straight to the head. Medical witches, please hurry!" The fire was put out but the wizard had lost his nose in the flames. He wasn't going to die, but he was no longer pretty, either. Harry felt sick.

    Britain. lost two more seekers to near-fatal injuries and their backlist ran out. The USA scored four more times.

    "Excellent goal by USA Chaser 3! One-thirty to zero! Britain. in possession. Close call by a blood-hungry Bludger... close to the hoops now... dodgers another Bludger... and... score! One-thirty to ten! USA ball! That didn't last long did it, Britain's ball thanks to a narrow miss of the hand by a Bludger. Broom-swatted from across the field, score! One-thirty to twenty! USA ball. Straight down the middle, dodges two chasers, two Bludgers... and the Snitch! USA and Britain's Seekers' fly after it. Neck and neck... such a shame for the USA Seeker! Next player on the backlist, please. Lucky it wasn't two inches over and only his broom and hand got burned!"

    "You'd think after so many injuries they would tone the balls down," said Hermione.

    "But that's half the fun!" Ron insisted. Hermione sighed.

    "Don't you feel bad for them?"

    "Of course I do! But I wouldn't come otherwise! I'd really rather not see someone die though, that's very depressing." Ron looked at Harry very quickly then back at the game. It was only a few months ago that Harry narrowly escaped permanent death. Harry glared at him.

    During their conversation, Britain. scored once again. "Another score for Britain.! One-thirty to thirty! USA's ball, chaser one being chased by all three Britain. chasers. One one top, one on left and the other on bottom. Oh they rip the Quaffle right from his hands! The two on his side drive him right over the stands! Britain. chaser makes a break for it... score!"

    "This is quite a surprise," started Mrs. Weasley, "it's amazing they're able to --"

    "SCORE!"

    "-- so many times."

    "That puts the score at what, one hundred thirty to fourty? That's still very high," said Mr. Weasley incitefully.

    "SCORE AGAIN!"

    "Ron." Hermione poked him but he was too interested in watching. Britain. seemed to be making a very good comeback. "Ron!" She poked him again.

    "Shh! I'm trying to watch!"

    "There's no use, Hermione," said Harry. "He's just going to send you right in there if you poke him again."

    "Britain. scores! One hundred thirty to sixty!" The next hour droned on and Britain. managed to bring their score up to one hundred twenty."

    "This scoring is getting annoying, when is someone going to see the Snitch again?" barked Ron.

    "I can see it from here," Harry said, pointing at it. "It's right there, over the USA Seeker's head. Dumb git doesn't see it, not my fault."

    "Britain's Seeker charges toward USA's Seeker! Does he see the Snitch? USA Seeker narrow escapes being hit. It is, Britain. is chasing the Snitch!"

    "Happy now, Ron?" snapped Hermione. "He's got two Bludgers chasing him and the Snitch is only running away from him."

    "Disaster..." said the announcer in a soft voice. One Bludger hit the front of his broom and the other torched the wizard's hair. "Britain. Seeker out of commission." Ron's eyes were furious. "Britain's backlist is empty but it has come to my attention that someone from the crowd may take his place if he or she wishes too." All the players still flew around, dodging Bludgers and eyeing the crowd to see if anyone would get up.

    "Harry!" said Ron in an overexcited voice.

    "NO!" he bellowed. Ron was giving him puppy eyes but Harry stood his ground.

    "We will take a fifteen minute break. In the mean time, if anyone wishes to play, see Madam Hooch or myself. If no one volunteers, the game will be over and The United States will take the win."

    Harry sat staring at the Bludgers still flying around the track confused there were no players. Ron had been talking to him for a good ten minutes but he wasn't listening. Finally, he heard Ron say,

    "You have to go, Harry. The USA has won every single game since Fire Quidditch started!" pleaded Ron.

    "No."

    "Yes, please?" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave Ron a startling look.

    "You're not going to make him play if he doesn't want to," said Mrs. Weasley.

    "Fine. Fine, fine, fine."

    Harry didn't look happy, but he didn't want Britain. to lose for the one hundredth year in a row. "Where the bloody hell is Madam Hooch," he said staring at Ron disgusted. Ron gave a half smile and pointed at her near the announcer's stand. Harry stepped down to the middle of the field and walked over to Madam Hooch, who looked very happy. There were murmurs directed at him as he walked over to the announcer's stand, no doubt wondering if he was going to play.

    "Ron convinced me."

    "Excellent! Don't worry, you'll be just fine," she said, picking up his left hand and admiring the soft glow. "You'll be needing a broom but that's sort of a problem because there are no spares."

    "I have a Firebolt, remember?" He snapped his fingers and was carrying it the next instant.

    "You also need team robes." Lucky for them, the Quidditch robes he wore for Gryffindor were the exact same ones Britain. wore during Fire Quidditch. Another snap and he was dressed. Harry seemed to have everything under control, except the slight shaking all over his body and the sick feeling in his stomach. "Go over there and talk to the Britain. team captain and give him this." She handed Harry a note saying, "Backlist player five."

    Harry walked away.

    He walked over to where the Britain. players were standing down on the grass. Some of them broke off to talk but were all standing in generally the same area. They all stared at him oddly as he approached. He tried not to feel nervous but it wasn't easy; not every day to you volunteer to play on a team in a sport recognized world-wide not to mention being highly dangerous.

    "Are you going to be playing with us?"

    "Yeah."

    "A little young, aren't you?" The team had gathered around to see who was coming. The sick feeling in his stomach turned into a slight pain. Would it be best to hide his name and just play anonymously? But what if he had to use the Mark to save himself? Would they all fall off their brooms...

    "Okay. You got some robes, and a broom... what kind is it?" he said in a flat tone. Harry handed it to the captain and he glanced at it. "A Firebolt, excellent, just what the rest of us have!" The small grin on his face turned off. "I don't see why they would let someone -- hey how old are you?"

    "Fifteen."

    "Fifteen play. Who lent you the broom?"

    "It's mine."

    "Yours? What's your name, kid?" The slight pain turned into a hand grabbing his stomach trying to rip it out. It wasn't avoidable.

    "Harry Potter." They dropped their broomsticks, stopped talking and whipped their heads in his direction.

    "The real Harry Potter?" one of them asked.

    The familiar look of the eyes staring up at his forehead was obvious. Harry flipped up his bangs to show them the scar they were all waiting to see. The team captain tried to speak but he kept swallowing his words.

    "What?" Harry said in a slight groan. "Give me some parchment and a quill, you want an autograph?" The Keeper did a double take. Harry was certain he thought he heard the name wrong.

    "No, Mr. Potter." There was a nervous twitch and a half laugh as he spoke. The other team members had gathered around.

    "A friend convinced me."

    "Wow. I'll be a gremlin's uncle if we lose," someone said quietly in the stands behind them.

    "You'll do just fine!"

    "That's what Madam Hooch tried to tell me for about an hour a few days ago." One of them let out a light giggle. "I got one question, though. Aren't players required to know a Freezing Flame charm? I mean, that would avoid a lot of injuries."

    "Supposed to, yes. Rare though, don't think anyone here tonight can. People willing to play are hard to come by so they bend the rules quite a bit. Can you?" He would have to show them the Mark. Show them or don't show them?

    "No," he lied. Harry put his hands in his cloak to stifle the glitter that tried to show. He couldn't explain it. The embarrassment. of having to show all he could do was too much at the moment. Better to let it show if he needed to and try to get through the game without incident. Harry never liked too much attention. The glitter stopped and he put his hands out again. The fifteen minute break was up.

    "It seems we have someone who wishes to fill in the last spot for Britain's black list!" Harry looked up at him. The announcer didn't see Harry as he opened a slip of paper Madam Hooch gave him with Harry's name on it. The announcer clasped a hand over his mouth. "Harry Potter will be playing for Britain." The stadium filled with murmurs. Harry distinctively heard Ron say, "GO HARRY!"

    The team captain called over to him, "Come Mr. Potter --"

    "No need to call me 'mister,' just 'Harry,'" he said with a big grin.

    "Sure. So. Come, Harry. Gotta get back to the field. Starting soon." Harry mounted his trusty Firebolt and followed the captain up in the air to the middle of the field.

    "Britain. is sure to win with Mr. Potter on their team! Right! So... up goes the Quaffle, the game begins!"

    Harry had no time to listen to the announcer. He spotted the Snitch right away and rode after it, the look of victory in his eyes. The Bludgers wouldn't leave him alone, though. He dodged them with all kinds of moves, twists, rolls, dives, climbs and all the while trying to keep an eye on the Snitch that seemed to be able to evade his every zoom. Harry ignored the gasps from the crowd as he circled around a Bludger and confusing it so it went straight up into the air. They were unrelenting. He got closer to the Snitch and the USA Seeker had caught on to him.

    "Hey there, Potter. Think you can catch it before I do?"

    "Go ahead, I don't want my hand to get cut off." The Seeker gave Harry a dirty look.

    "Scared?" he said laughing. Harry lay flat on his broom and took off like a rocket after the Snitch. Harry felt something hot and looked behind him. A Bludger was following him slowly gaining ground but Harry couldn't shake it. He turned around and lost the Snitch. The heat behind him went away.

    "Potter gets a close encounter with a Bludger!"

    Harry was angry with himself.

    "One hundred seventy to sixty!"

    Harry flew several hundred feet above the USA hoops and gazed at the Britain. hoops looking for the Snitch. USA scored two more times while he wasn't paying attention. He saw it again. Something golden zoomed past his left. The USA Seeker was hot on it's trail and Harry bolted himself flat to his broom. The crowd became a mere blur as he was speeding away. The Snitch soared directly downwards. Both Seekers were in a dive straight for the ground. Harry felt something hot behind him again, a Bludger was right on his tail, inches from the edge of his broom. The distance between him and it was growing but ever so slowly. He couldn't keep up the dive and within seven seconds, pulled straight out. The fireball was a few feet behind him. The USA Seeker hit the ground but was back on his feet in the air within seven more seconds. Harry turned around, the Bludger behind him was gaining again. He climbed straight up for fifty feet and looped around it to try and shake it off but it didn't work. It was a foot away and gaining very slowly. Harry turned forward and gazed at the Snitch... and the other Bludger heading straight for him.

    He didn't think. His skin glowed white, sinked a little and stopped dead. The Bludgers aimed directly at his head. He reached both hands outwards, palms out and flicked his wrists. Each Bludger became blue as water upon contact with his hand and began to fall. They each hit the ground and shattered like glass. The stadium let out one, big, loud, simultaneous gasp of fear.

    "Potter has disabled the Bludgers!" screamed the announcer in utter disbelief. With those out of the way -- and ignoring the hushed silence -- he didn't have to worry about getting burned. He continued to chase after the extraordinarily fast Snitch but the other hazard were the blades spinning very fast around it. How was he going to avoid not getting his hands cut off? He picked one hand off the broom and reached into his robes for his wand. "Wingardium Leviosa," he whispered to himself. The blades bent and cracked, falling to the ground. He was in the clear. Nothing to worry about now except the USA Seeker hot on his tail again.

    "Ingenious, Potter." Harry grabbed the very tip of his broomstick and put his feet on either side of the back of the broom, toes pointing down. He pulled the front back hard sending himself spinning and barreling backwards into the USA Seeker. Harry's back knocked against the USA Seeker and he was knocked clear out of the field with no chance of catching up to Harry before he could get the Snitch.

    "I don't know whether to call that a foul or fancy playing!" The crowd roared with excitement."USA Seeker doesn't look hurt so I guess it's just fancy playing." Harry, still rolling backwards, gripped the front tighter and pulled his feet up hard. His rolling stopped but he had lost the Snitch again.

    "Harry! Snitch! Behind me!" one Britain. player called to him. Sure enough, the Snitch was following him. Harry lay flat against his broom once again and zoomed after the Snitch. He carefully put one foot on top of his broom and the other foot just below it so he held it between his feet. Harry let go of the front, straightened the broom and arched himself forward. He was going so fast he couldn't make out any shapes except that of himself and the Snitch and had a hard time turning. Both hands out, the Snitch was just inches in front of him. It wasn't gaining ground and he wasn't catching up to it, he needed to think of another way to get closer. Just two inches!

    "USA - Two hundred thirty, Britain., sixty!" If he didn't catch it soon, there would be no hope.

    The USA Seeker was flying right below him.

    "Be a shame if you were to lose grip of your broom, wouldn't it?"

    "You wouldn't. We're at least one hundred feet up," said Harry eyeing the Snitch nervously. He wouldn't!

    The Seeker grinned madly and flew right behind him reaching his hand out. Harry had an idea. If the USA Seeker hit him, it might give him enough of a boost to grab the Snitch. He slowed himself down. The USA Seeker banged right into him and Harry felt his heart stop.

    His broom slipped out from between his feet. He whipped his arms down and tried to grab it realizing what had just happened, but it was too late. The crowd gaped in awe. Something hard hit him on the chest as he fell and hit the ground with a crack.

    Harry, barely conscious, put his hand under where a small object was between him and the ground. It was the Snitch. He picked his head up. "Look at that. We won," he said with a last breath as he grabbed it and stretched his arm out for all to see. His head hit the ground and he was out.

    His eyes opened up. Madam Pomfrey was standing over him as were the Weasleys, the announcer, the Britain. team, Hermione and Ron.

    "You broke four ribs, Harry," said Hermione.

    "One hundred feet up and you broke four ribs," repeated the Britain. captain in disbelief. Professor Dumbledore had stepped over.

    "Thank goodness for the Mark of Ancients, eh, Harry?" he said with a warm smile.

    "I'd rather not have fallen, thanks," said Harry gloomily.

    "The what?" said most of the Britain. players.

    "Mark of Ancients. Surely you know what it is?" said Dumbledore.

    "Yeah, we do... but-" he said as Dumbledore turned to Harry and interrupted him.

    "No one did anything but you started to slow down about ten feet before you hit," he said, reaching a hand down. Harry grabbed it hard, stood up and looked down at himself. His robes were torn to shreds.

    "That was quite a trick you did up there with the USA Chaser, the Bludgers and trying to catch the Snitch," said Madam Hooch. Harry stumbled. Hermione walked over and let him lean on her as his legs were feeling like jelly.

    "I read about it in a book Ron gave me." Ron was overcome with joy.

    "The Backward Bowling Ball, Human Spear and a Freezing Flame Charm," said the captain with great joy. "The first two being advanced moves many players have trouble with. But... you told me you couldn't do that charm?"

    "I lied," Harry said briskly.

    He conjured a fireball in his free hand, threw it into the air and shot an icicle at it. It, too, hit the ground shattering like glass. Harry was happy, but he hurt all over and was extremely tired. "Good game, but someone tell Madam Hooch if she ever thinks I will play again, I'll let her fall one hundred feet," he said grinning.

    "You missed the screaming and everyone tried to run over to you," said Hermione.

    "Good," replied Harry.

    "You wouldn't believe how loud it got. Some people must have used voice enhancing charms because I thought my ears were going to break. You did it, Harry! First game in one hundred years where the USA lost!"

    "Hey, where is that USA Seeker, anyway? Did you see what he was doing? Tried to pull my broom from under me. I let him hit me, thought it would shove him off and let me get the Snitch. Worked, but I didn't think that I would lose my broom."

    "Soon as you did that, the Snitch changed direction and went right under you trying to go backwards. We heard him saying he was just trying to scare you, who knows."

    The crowd was thinning out and most everyone had left already. Harry's embarrassed and annoyed attitude turned for the better when he looked around. There were people waving and yelling at him calling his name from every direction. It was quite a good feeling, that. He went to sleep that night trying to picture what it was like when he held up the Snitch in his hand. Hermione had later told him he was unconscious for about thirty minutes as Madam Pomfrey mended his bones so he wouldn't have to feel it.