Eventually, the stands began to fill up with spectators, and crimson and gold flags and pennants flew merrily in the breeze alongside emerald and silver ones.
"It's time!" Wood said eagerly as Madam Hooch flew out onto the field, the box containing the balls floating beside her. Across the field the Slytherin team was lined up.
"Remember, Harry, Higgs is good at stopping on a dime, but has trouble turning while accelerated due to his broom being an old Silver Arrow. Best way to counter him is to keep moving, never stopping," Wood whispered to Harry regarding the Slytherin Seeker. "And he prefers to avoid diving if he can help it. Again, because of the turning problem I mentioned."
Harry nodded absent-mindedly, but his focus was not on his rival Seeker, but one of the Chasers. Mounted on a Comet 220 was one Rudolph Hunch, a very angry looking teen.
'Hunch… Edwards' brother,' Harry thought to himself, looking at the student in question. They didn't really look alike. They shared the same sharp, distinguished chin, but that was it. Rudy's hair was darker and shorter, while his eyes were blue and narrowed in disgust as he glared at the Gryffindors.
He'd had little to do with the boy in the past, but now, he was an opponent. Harry mounted his broom at Madam Hooch's whistle, and rose into the air.
A second whistle, and the Snitch was released. A third saw the quaffle hurled into the air, and the game was on. Moments later the two bludgers rocketed onto the field, but Harry was already looking around for the glint of gold that told him where the Snitch would be.
"And it looks like Flint tricked Wood with a side-slash! Ten points to Slytherin! First Blood to them!" the announcer, Lee Jordan, called out. Harry's eyes narrowed at that, and he glanced around, all while flying here and there to avoid the bludgers sent his way.
As the game continued, more and more points were scored, mostly by the Slytherin team. They had managed to get a hundred and ten points to Gryffindor's sixty, and Harry knew they would be searching for the Snitch now. Thanks to Wood, he knew that Flint and the Slytherin team liked to try and get at least a hundred points before searching for the Snitch in earnest, which was smart as regardless of who won the game, both sides still earned House Points based on their score, and even if Slytherin lost, a hundred points was nothing to scoff at.
Deciding he couldn't let them win with such a wide point margin, Harry flew up high to get a better view, only to find the Cleansweep Seven he was riding begin to buck underneath him.
He grabbed on tight, but found it growing harder to keep his balance. What was happening?!
Neville POV
The game had been going… well enough, he supposed. Much as he was loath to admit it, but Flint ran a tight ship and his team players were well coordinated. Still, even with a couple newcomers the Gryffindor team was doing well.
"Go Fred! Go George!" Ron cheered. "Kick their arse!"
"Ron!" Hermione gasped, scandalized. She turned to her other friends. "Can you believe how worked up some of the students are getting?"
"YEAH!" Hannah shouted, waving a Gryffindor flag. "Wooo! Go! Tear those snakes apart and turn 'em into boots!"
"Sorry about her," Susan apologized, blushing a bit on behalf of her friend as Hermione stared at the blonde. "She gets very heated when it comes to sports and games in general. Quidditch, Exploding Snap… you should see how she gets when playing Gobstones."
"Oi! Are you blind?! That was clearly a foul!" Hannah heckled as the Syltherin Beaters pulled a crude maneuver, pinning in one of the Chasers and knocking away the quaffle from her as it was thrown at her by one of the others. "Boo! Boo!"
"Hmm, the Slytherins are fifty points ahead, it will be hard for us to pull ahead," Neville hummed.
"Am I the only one who finds this whole thing ridiculous?" Hermione muttered.
"There, there," Susan said, patting her bushy-haired friend sympathetically.
"Um, guys?" Ron said, eyes locked onto the pitch. Everyone turned to see what he was looking, and their eyes widened while a sudden and loud gasp rippled through the stands.
Up in the air, almost past the upper boundary of the Quidditch field, was Harry, but he was in clear distress as he clung to the broom for dear life, trying to hold on as it flailed like a bucking bronco.
"Something's wrong!" Hermione exclaimed, and Neville was forced to agree. There was no way the wild movements of Harry's broom were natural, or safe. A fall from that height probably wouldn't be fatal, all Quidditch stadiums and pitches had safety spells worked into them to slow or cushion a descent, but it wouldn't be pretty, either.
"Why is nobody stopping this?" Hermione demanded.
"I don't know!" Susan replied.
....
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