Dark Lord

What the?

Just imagine its Neville instead of Harry

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry and Neville would be playing in their first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Brother against brother. 

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since the boys had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. She also enjoyed talking with the Riddle brothers about magic, for they knew much more than what they were being taught in school. She, Seamus, Dean, Ron, Draco, and Blaise all showed interest in their father, (M/N) Riddle, and Uncle Regulus, who had taught them so much. "Maybe during summer break, you all can come visit!" "Yeah, I'm sure Dad won't mind. We have plenty of space!" The boys smiled at their group of friends. 

The morning of their first Quidditch match dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good game. Harry and Neville were practically force-fed their breakfasts by their red and green friends. "You guys need to eat." Hermione kept saying. "Yeah, you two need your strength. Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team." Seamus said, piling ketchup on his sausages.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes. Dean, Seamus, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Blaise sat together in the top row. Meanwhile, in the locker rooms, Harry was changing into his emerald Quidditch robes as Neville changed into his own scarlet Quidditch robes. Neville and his team in red listened to Wood's pre-game speech. Harry's team captain, Flint, simply told them all 'don't fuck up'. 

They left their locker rooms and walked onto the field to loud cheers. Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand. "Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said once they were all gathered around her. She seemed to be speaking particularly to Marcus Flint. "Mount your brooms, please." Harry and Neville climbed onto their Nimbus Two Thousands. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too - " "JORDAN!" "Sorry, Professor." The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. 

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good friend of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a  Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goalposts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goalposts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!" 

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Harry and Neville were gliding over the game, squinting for some sign of the Snitch. "Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?" A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Harry and Neville had seen it. They dived downward after the streak of gold. Neville had been closer to the Snitch, however. It was right up ahead, he was almost there- WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors and two Slytherins below - Marcus Flint had blocked Neville on purpose, and Neville's broom spun off course, Neville holding on for dear life. "FOUL!" the Gryffindors screamed. Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again. Harry flew over to his brother. "Are you ok, Nev?" "Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled at the other boy, trying to reassure him. 

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!" "What are you talking about, Dean?" Ron asked. "Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!" "But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him. Draco and Blaise, however, were on Dean's side. " They really should change the rules. Flint could've knocked Neville off of his broom!" "Yeah, he could've gotten really hurt!" Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. "So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-" "Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled. "I mean, after that open and revolting foul-" "Jordan, I'm warning you-" "All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Neville dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that. Harry immediately noticed and was beside him in seconds. "Climb on, now!" He reached out and Neville grabbed his brother's hands as his broom lurched again. Quickly, Harry pulled Neville onto his broom as Neville's broomstick started bucking around, now riderless. Lee was still commentating. "Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor - Slytherins score - oh no..." The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed Neville's broom behaving strangely. Harry and Neville flew down, Neville calling out to the crowd, holding the Golden Snitch which he caught accidentally while still on his bucking broom. The game ended in complete confusion, Neville's broom still lurching about in the air. Gryffindor won. 

That night, (M/N) nearly had a heart attack as he read the letter from his sons. He sent two letters back to Hogwarts, one making sure his sons were ok, while the other was yet another Howler for Dumbledore. He's seriously considering having the two boys transfer over to Durmstrang.