Harry Potter and the Ancient Order

Chpt. 29. The International Scholastic Quidditch Cup Finals (Wow, say that three times fast...)

"Finally," groaned Ron Friday evening. "Finally, that's behind us."

Gryffindor Tower was throwing a minor pre-party for the Championship game tomorrow in honor of Harry and Xander. Hermione refused to allow alcohol this time; so instead, Xander built a makeshift ring for the Hogwarts Hardcore Wrestling Alliance to put on a show. Ordinarily, Harry wouldn't have paid attention, but they were just too funny to ignore. Watching Colin and Dennis Creevey flex their "muscles" in front of every female, the Palone twins try to perform some acrobatics only to fall flat on their faces, and several other first and second years do their best Shawn Michaels impressions had the Common Room rolling. Fred and George dressed as vendors and sold more of their Wizard Wheezes to everyone. As word spread of the party, more and more Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws came around seeking entrance.

Suddenly, Harry couldn't see. "Guess who?" said a female voice, and Harry realized that someone had covered his eyes with their hands.

"Umm, the girl who will go to any lengths to have my body?" guessed Harry. Cho punched him. "Wow, the truth really does hurt," he mumbled, grinning.

"I just wanted to wish you good luck tomorrow," said Cho, who was now blushing from Harry's comment. "We charmed a huge English flag to call out all the players' names and hung it out on the stands. You have to get the snitch," she whispered to him.

"Why?," wondered Harry.

"Get it and you'll see," Cho grinned. Xander, who was standing behind Cho, winked and began to move his hips back and forth and was slapping an imaginary object in front of his stomach. Harry couldn't hold it in and broke out laughing. "Did I say something funny?" asked Cho, slowly losing her smile, and turned around to see what Harry was looking at. Xander, in an attempt to change what he was doing, tripped and fell over.

"Real classy, dumbass," scolded Alicia. "Go on, hurt yourself so you can't play, and spend the day in the Hospital Wing so you can't take me to the Winner's Ball tomorrow evening."

"There's a ball tomorrow?" asked Harry in surprise. Why does nobody ever warn him of these things?

"Yes," said Cho, staring at Harry expectantly.

He knew what she wanted him to say, he knew what he wanted to say, knew his face was burning red, but for some reason, his throat quit working. He opened his mouth, and a croak came out instead of words. He tried again, and had to close it right away or risk burping right in Cho's face, and since he had just eaten a hamburger with onions, he was sure she wouldn't appreciate his breath right now.

"Okay, I'll go with you, but only if you stop begging," said Cho, smiling.

Harry, in an attempt to cover up his embarrassing non-response, tried something he had thought of a few months ago, but hadn't had the time or nerve to try until now. He pointed his wand at his throat and muttered a Translation Charm.

"You are very beautiful," he said in Chinese. It was easier talking when he didn't understand the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm glad to have gotten to know you this year."

Cho's cheeks were pink. "Me, too," she said, in English, to Harry's knees.

"Thank you for all of your help with my... dreams this year," he continued in Chinese. "Knowing you were going to be there for me every morning made it easier for me to fall asleep every night."

"It's nothing," said Cho, daring to look in Harry's eyes.

His heart stopped beating, yet beat even harder at the same time. Suddenly, it wasn't as easy to talk anymore. Just say it, he told himself. You're speaking Chinese. No one else but Cho will understand what you say. He looked back into her eyes, and his hands began to tremble, not from fright, but because he had never seen her look so beautiful. Not knowing why he was doing it, he reached out an put his hand on top of Cho's soft, smaller hand to find her trembling as well. Just say it, he told himself again.

"I really fancy you," he finally blurted out. Something was wrong. He understood the words that came out of his mouth, and everyone within hearing range stopped talking and looked at him. Ron's eyes were wide, and Hermione couldn't stop giggling. In his hesitation, the Translation Charm had worn out. He buried his face in his hands, horrified.

"Harry," said Cho, reaching up to pull his hands down. He let her move his hands, but still stared at his shoes. "Harry," she said again, putting her hand on his cheek and forcing him to look up. Jeez, her hands are soft, thought Harry.

Whatever she was going to say, Harry would never know. Thankfully, Harry had something else to watch, as Xander had taken off his shirt and jumped into the ring, climbing the ropes. "Swanton bomb!" he cried out, and everyone who wasn't already watching turned their heads, Cho included. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Cho was a deep pink and was also watching Harry out of the corner of her eye. Xander leapt off the ropes in a splash, and at the last minute, rolled in mid air so that his back landed on the chest of Colin Creevey, the current 'Hardcore Champion'.

"Count!" Xander called out, and a second year counted out the three, handing Xander the Hardcore title. Nobody dared challenge him for the belt the rest of the evening.

For better or for worse, Harry and Cho never got around to talking about Harry's comment, and instead talked Quidditch. Finally, after Professor McGonagall put an end to the party at midnight, the Common Room cleared out.

"Good luck, Harry," said Cho as Harry walked her to the portrait hole.

"I'll see you tomorrow for the ball?" Harry asked her, and she nodded, looking as though she was going to say something else. She didn't, but without looking directly at him, she quickly kissed Harry on the lips before turning to go. He went to bed that night unable to stop smiling no matter how much Ron teased him, and he felt as though he was the most macho of all males alive.

"Majere, you must fly as vell as you ever haff," Krum told Xander in the locker room before the Championship match. "This Bryant guy is very good. Ve must play very good defense, and you haff to stay on him."

Harry had woken up in a very excited mood to find out that Krum ordered a pre-game run-through of everything they had planned to do. Before he knew it, they were on the pitch before it was light out, and he hadn't had the chance to see anybody else that morning except for his teammates. He was wondering vaguely about what Cho had in store for him if he caught the snitch when Krum called his name.

"Harry," he grunted. "You know I am not worried about you catching the snitch, but you must not carry on in the manor of Malfoy. They vill try to get you sidetracked, but you must stay focused. This vill be the fastest snitch you haff ever seen, so you must be alert."

Harry thought for a moment about Fred and George, wishing that they were the beaters as they had almost never failed to keep a bludger away from him. He still was having a tough time adjusting to a whole new team, but they had practiced so well all week that it raised his confidence in them.

"You haff ten minutes before ve go out there," said Krum. "Do vat ever you need to do."

Most of the team got up and began to pace, talking to each other about tactics. Xander had thrown a towel over his head and lied down on a bench, refusing to speak to anyone, but after several seconds, Harry realized that this was due to the fact that he was sleeping.

"How can he sleep now?" Harry asked the Hufflepuff beater who sat down next to him.

"He does that right before every match," he told Harry. "The first time, we thought he passed out. Davies went to shake him, but Majere clocked him square in the jaw when he woke."

Snickering to himself despite his nerves, Harry looked around for something to occupy his mind, finally focusing on a poster of a snitch that covered the length of a wall. He watched it as it zoomed back and forth, barely slower than the blink of an eye. It raised Harry's confidence that he was able to keep his eyes on it for five full minutes before Krum announced that it was time to walk out to the pitch. Amazingly, Xander was wide awake in no fewer than three seconds.

"You ready for this?," he asked Harry with a nudge.

"Definitely," said Harry, and he was thankful that his voice didn't crack as his heart rate doubled.

"I know you've never played on this level," whispered Xander, "but it really is no different than any other game. Tune out everything you hear and concentrate on the snitch."

Harry nodded, a little peeved that Xander found it necessary to hammer this point home once more after every kept telling him that, but realized for some reason that his heartbeat slowed considerably. Even before he exited the locker room, he could hear Lee Jordan announcing the American team.

"Keeper Keith LeBlanc, Beaters Phil Nevin and J.D. Drew, Chasers Brandy Chastain, Michael Vick, and Kobe Bryant! And Seeker Marcus Robertson!"

Lee's voice seemed to go right through Harry, and each name caused his nerves to vibrate. Since the Americans were sitting right next to the locker rooms, their cheers echoed off the walls so that it sounded as if they were all crammed into the corridors. Harry's ears were ringing as they walked out into daylight.

"And here comes the English team!," cried Lee. "Keeper Mercedes Lynch, Beaters Adam Kelly and David Grant, Chasers Roger Davies, Bill Williamson, and Alexander Majere!" The whole crowd, including the Americans cheered madly at Xander's name. "And Seeker Harry Potter!" Even louder cheers, as everybody from every nation knew who Harry Potter was, though he could hear the expected catcalls from various Slytherins.

For everything Harry had built up in his head from his daydreams, it really did little for his confidence to hear his name called out. He had the entrance, he had his name on the back of the English robes, and he had nearly everyone in the whole school rooting him on, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of insufficiency. He looked over to Xander, hoping for some form of reassurance, but Xander had the glazed look on is face, the kind that said he had little idea as to what was going on around him, only knowing what was going on in his head.

The daylight hit his eyes, giving Harry a headache. Why were his nerves so bad? He hadn't felt like this since his first Quidditch match five years ago. Was Krum sure he wanted to insert Harry into the lineup at this stage of the tournament?

"Players, I'll remind you that this is the Championship Match," said Madam Hooch. "As such, I'll not tolerate flagrant play (she stared very hard at Xander, who smiled sweetly). Mount your brooms!"

Harry mounted his broom, and when the quaffle was released, he left his nerves on the ground. He shot up, faster than even Bryant, and surveyed the pitch for a moment. He spotted the American seeker, Marcus Robertson, searching frantically for the snitch, much like a parent searches a crowd of people for their missing child.

"Brilliant flying we're seeing today!" call Lee Jordan. "Vick passes to Bryant, no, intercepted by Majere, he's really flying up there! All three American chasers marking Majere now, beautiful pass to Roger Davies, pass to Williamson, Davies, Williamson who shoots-! Arg, nice save by the keeper LeBlanc. Bryant with the quaffle now, unable to shake off Majere, go Xander! Bryant trying to 'shimmy' Majere (a shimmy is a move by a chaser, who zigzags furiously in an attempt to confuse) but Majere refuses to let off! We're seeing World Cup level skills here, people! Porskoff Ploy by Bryant (Chaser drops the quaffle to a teammate waiting below him) to an awaiting Vick, who fires- Goal for America, 10-0!"

Harry couldn't blame Lynch for missing the shot, he himself barely saw the quaffle go through the hoop. For a second, he thought it was the snitch and took off after it. In his pursuit, he passed an immense English flag, which called out "DAVIES! MAJERE! POTTER!" loudly as he passed, and Harry grinned inwardly. When the flag cried his name, instinct made him look, and he saw the snitch hovering in front of it.

"There goes Potter!" cried Lee. "He's seen the snitch already, and look at him go!"

Harry rocketed after the golden snitch, and his Firebolt wasn't letting him down. He needed every bit of its advanced handling to tail the snitch, which was moving in an almost unnatural manner. He barely dodged a bludger hit by one of the American chasers, which was hammered so hard it stuck in the wood of the stands for several seconds before shaking itself loose. In that critical second, the snitch disappeared.

"Heavy bludger work by Nevin. Good thing Potter saw it coming, it would've decapitated him! Majere scores!" shouted Lee. While the entire American team was busy admiring the work of their beater, Xander grabbed the quaffle from Bryant's hands and streaked up the pitch for a goal.

Bryant was furious, and spout out a string of what might have been curses, Harry couldn't understand the slang he was using, but Xander apparently did. He didn't respond, but the scowl on Xander's face told Harry that Bryant wasn't exactly congratulating him.

"Nice diversion," grumbled Xander as he flew passed Harry, then flew off down the pitch towards Bryant, who himself was busily shouting instructions to his chasers. Xander flew with such reckless speed that as he shot inches from Bryant's broomstick, Bryant was sent into a tailspin and he missed the pass that was aimed for him. Davies intercepted the quaffle and launched it halfway down the pitch to Xander.

"A bomb of a pass by Davies to Majere, who's streaking for the goal again. Majere drawing almost all of the Americans towards him, dodges a blud- two bludgers AND Chastain, LeBlanc coming out to challenge Majere, WOW! Gorgeous pass to- Williamson scores! 20-10 England!"

With the entire opposition focused on Xander, Williamson had snuck into the scoring area to put the quaffle home. The Hogwarts section erupted, rocking the pitch down to the ground.

"Thus far, Majere outplaying Bryant in today's Marquee Match-up," said Lee. "Early reports say that if Majere can equalize Bryant, that should give England the edge in the match as our own Harry Potter is recognized as the best seeker at this level!"

Focus, thought Harry. He was hearing more of his name than he cared to, and needed to tune it out to get his concentration back. He was having a devil of a time dodging the players, so he returned to his customary spot twenty feet above the match. Harry did notice that Robertson was braving the torrent of flying below in the hopes of staying within range should the snitch reappear. After ten quick minutes, in which both teams traded goals for a 60-50 English advantage, he noticed a glint of gold down by the American goal.

Without thought, he shot off towards the gold, oblivious to his surrounding. Brandy dodged Harry with a small cry of surprise, and Robertson joined him in the hunt, bumping Harry at every opportunity. The snitch kept bumping the American keeper on the head, and LeBlanc was swatting at it in annoyance. When he saw Harry and Robertson streaking towards him, LeBlanc nearly fell off his broom in an attempt to get away.

Though he couldn't quite get within arms-length of the snitch, Harry was able to keep up with it while Robertson continually had to veer around and restart his pursuit. For nearly two full minutes, the snitch would stop, then shoot off twenty feet, then stop, then shoot off just when Harry was about to catch it. Not paying attention to anything other than the capture, Harry didn't see Brandy below him, and she flew right into him, causing Harry to fall back into Robertson and the snitch to disappear once again.

"Ohhhh," groaned Lee. "Chastain fouling Potter in his pursuit of the snitch, and now it's gone. You have to think that just a few more moments and Potter would have had it."

Davies, as the team captain, was awarded the penalty shot, and LeBlanc pulled off an amazing save, keeping the score even, as the Americans had picked up an extra goal during Harry's pursuit. Xander was putting on a display of skill unmatched by anyone on the pitch, Bryant and Vick included. Every shot, every pass, every maneuver was pulled off with incredible precision. For thirty more fast and furious minutes, the snitch was gone, Drew and Nevin pelted Xander with bludger after bludger, and the Americans pulled out to a 110-80 advantage.

It was an amazing match, and rarely was there a moment when the crowd wasn't shouting. Vick's shots were deadly accurate, and Xander's play was slowly but steadily dropping off. The only time he stopped flying for a second was during Davies's penalty shot, and his fatigue was becoming evident, but Bryant was even worse off. Xander's defense had Bryant sucking wind with every breath. Xander forced Davies to call a time-out, and Harry joined his team on the ground. Xander collapsed next to Harry in exhaustion.

Madam Pomfrey was on the field trying to force some sort of potion down his throat, which Xander refused. Once she threatened to pull him out of the game and admit him into the hospital wing for the rest of the night, he drank the potion while she mended the various injuries the bludgers had caused him. She passed the potion around the players, and Harry, who himself was finding it difficult to focus his eyes, took a few sips. His eyes sharpened immediately.

"Ve need more defense!" Krum was ordering. "Majere cannot do it all by himself! Kelly, Grant, get on those bludgers. Keep them avay from everyone. Harry, good flying, you haff Robertson flying circles trying to keep up with you. Ve can't keep up this pace for much longer, so find that snitch!"

Krum and Williamson had to help Xander back onto his broom, and with a reassuring nod, he flew off into the air. Bryant tossed a string of insults at Xander, and all Harry could pick up from the slang-ridden onslaught was that Xander wasn't the caliber player Bryant was, and that Xander should've stayed on the ground to save himself the embarrassment of defeat. If ever anyone should be arrested for choice of words, Harry thought this was it. Bryant was downright cruel in his taunts, and he cursed so much that it began to sting Harry's ears. He wouldn't have been surprised to see slime spew from Bryant's lips, his language was so dirty.

Fifteen frustrating minutes passed, and still no sign of the snitch despite Harry's hawk-like surveillance. Bryant's trash-talking had recharged Xander, who was now flying with a vengeance. Nobody, including Harry, could keep up with him. Xander shut down Bryant and Vick simultaneously, and England pulled back within ten points. Harry wished that camcorders would work on Hogwarts grounds, as he would have loved to watch Xander's play from a spectator's point of view. Just as he flew past Cho's enormous flag (WILLIAMSON! DAVIES!), he saw, for the third time, the golden snitch.

His mind clear, his ears shut down, and his eyes focused on one thing: the ball of gold with silver wings. The length and pace of the match hadn't slowed it down any, and it took all of Harry's skill to keep in its wake. The snitch was flying so fast that Robertson couldn't keep up anymore, leaving Harry pretty much alone for the pursuit. Growing tired of weaving in and out of players, the snitch thankfully dove toward ground level, and Harry was now flying about three feet above the grass.

"C'mon, hold still!" he grunted at the snitch, which was weaving so much Harry was growing dizzy. Feeling desperate and throwing caution to the wind, Harry set his feet on the tail of his broom and pushed off, launching himself from his broom. Feeling the satisfying sting in his right hand, he grinned as he rolled on the ground, gaining a bruised shoulder and some loose gravel along his cheek. He held his hand high as he lay on the ground, now able to hear.

"Harry Potter has caught the snitch! England wins! England wins the Cup!" cried Lee Jordan, and the crowd roared their approval. Xander practically crashed as he landed, and hoisted Harry to his feet in a crushing bearhug. Davies was looking very smug indeed, as if he himself had single-handedly won the match. Bryant was furious, cursing Xander for having the gall to beat him in a Quidditch match.

"You a lucky summa-ma-bitch, that all you is!" he shouted at Xander. "You can't never beat me wit out little boy wonder under you arms! Nex time, I take you ass back to school! Call me the "bus driver", mutha fucka, fo shizzle!" Vick pulled him away.

Harry couldn't tell if his ears were ringing from the crushing hug Xander clasped around him, but there was a loud noise echoing from the distance. Apparently, Xander heard it too as he let go of Harry and began to search the skies. Harry looked in the same direction, and saw a large black cloud floating towards the pitch.

"Holy shit, no way!" Xander said in a mystified tone. "Oh, shit!" He looked at Harry. "Grab a shovel, we're in it deep!"

"What? What's going on?" Harry asked frantically. People were quickly closing in on him, anxious to clap him on the back.

"Ravens!" Xander said. "Find Dumbledore, stay near him!" Xander gave Harry a strong push. "GO! He'll know what to do!"

Harry began to push his way through the enclosing crowd, finding it more and more difficult to make his way through. He could hear Dumbledore's powerful voice, trying to order people back to the castle. The teachers were trying to help, but in the excitement, nobody listened. He cast a look over his shoulder to Xander, and saw him ordering Alicia and her family (who had rushed out to congratulate him) back to the school. Ron and Hermione caught up to Harry, asking why he was running away from them.

"Get to Dumbledore!" Harry yelled at them. "Don't ask, just trust me!"

Ron and Hermione obeyed, but not without questioning looks. Slowly, they found their way to Dumbledore as the caw-ing grew ever louder.

"Sir!" Harry called as they reached him. "Sir! Xander said to find you!"

"Stay near me!" ordered Dumbledore. "Do not, under any circumstances, allow a bird to touch you!"

Harry obeyed these odd instructions, trusting Dumbledore with is life, apparently, owing to the seriousness of Dumbledore and Xander. The severity of the situation began to dawn on everyone, as a few of the nearer birds began to swoop down on people at random. Cheers turned into screams. Ravens started to claw at random, and with a sick feeling in his stomach, Harry saw bits of flesh begin to be torn off.

Dumbledore had cast a powerful Shield Charm around Harry, Ron, and Hermione, keeping them from harm, but in effect forcing them to witness the terror. Bloody hands began to swipe at flapping wings, and cries of pain mingled with the crowing of the ravens. Crimson streaks mingled with moist tears on the horrified faces of those who had been attacked. It looked as though people were crying blood. Claw gouges covered arms that were attempting to cover eyes.

Thousands upon thousands of ravens swarmed around the pitch, creating a horrifying panic. Smaller students were nearly trampled as those who were able attempted to get away. Harry stood, awestruck and helpless, behind Dumbledore's Shield. When he thought all help was lost, Xander appeared next to him, muttering something under his breath and a vacant look in his eyes. With a whooshing sound, a red magical fire emitted from his hands, singing the birds that were at ground level, yet leaving the people below unharmed.

Xander fell to his knees, very fatigued and barely able to raise his head. Some of the panic subsided, and people tentatively looked up at the hesitant flock above their heads. Harry heard Xander whispering "Tasslehoff" over and over again. Xander looked up, smiled, and laid his head on the worn grass.

A loud screech came from the distance, and some of the ravens began to depart. A flush of gold appeared from the direction of the Forbidden Forest, and with a crunching sound, sank its beak into the nearest raven. Tasslehoff the Griffin began to chase the remaining birds away. The sky started to rain bird-corpses, as each raven Tas chomped fell to the ground. In moments, the sky was clear of anything black.