Purple Rain.

Chapter Thirty-Seven.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were projected on their respective screens. The other two screens were, presently, showing the crowd and would later focus solely on Harry and Draco whilst the remaining two screens would show the game.

"Captains, shake hands," ordered the umpire, Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Graham Montague reached each other. It was quite obvious Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though she did not wince. "Mount your brooms..."
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upward; out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron streak off toward the goal hoops. He zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same.

"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me—"

"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest— and she's ducked Vaisey, she's passed Montague, she's— ouch— been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe... Montague catches the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away—"
Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened as hard as he could through the wind whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.
"—dodged Vaisey, avoids a Bludger— close call, Alicia— and the crowd is loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
And as Lee paused to listen the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands.

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.

Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.

"—and Alicia passes to Angelina!" Lee shouted, and as Harry swerved, his insides boiling at what he had just heard, he knew Lee was trying to drown out the sound of the singing. "Come on now, Angelina— looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat— SHE SHOOTS— SHE— aaaah..."
Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Vaisey, who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.
"—and it's Vaisey with the Quaffle, Vaisey heading for the goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead—"
A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring...

"—so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team— come on, Ron!"
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared right between them, straight through Ron's central hoop.
"Slytherin scores!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin— bad luck, Ron..."
The Slytherins sang even louder.

WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN...

"—and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch—" cried Lee valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard about it.

WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING...

"Harry, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" screamed Angelina, soaring past him to keep up with Katie. "GET GOING!"