𝓓𝓸 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀? |𝗣.𝗝. 𝗔.𝗖.| Paused

VI.

Like a bat out of hell on fire.

   The stadium is full. Ron, Morrigan and Hermione join Neville and Seamus in the Gryffindor section, who hold a banner that reads POTTER FOR PRESIDENT. As the Slytperin and Gryffindor teams take the field, the crowd roars. Oliver Wood runs up alongside a nervous Hadrian, who clutches his new Nimbus.
   "I know what you're thinking, Hadrian. I'm playing my first game of Quidditce, the
entire school's watching me and, worst of
all, it's against Slytherin. Am I right?" Oliver asked.
   "Maybe."
  "It's all right. I felt that way before my first game."
   "What happened?"
  "I don't really remember. I took a Bludger to the head about two minutes in and woke up in the hospital week later."
Madame Hooch, clad in referee robes, addresses the players.
"Now, I want a nice clean game. From all
of you" She glances tellingly at Slytherin.

""Mount your brooms, please." Hands trembling, Hadrian waits, then the whistle blasts. Fourteen broomsticks rise into the air. As the crowd roars, Madam Hooch kicks the crate, releasing two screaming Bludgers, then tosses up the Quaffle.
"Quaffle' s up and straight off taken by Angelina Jopnson of Gryffindor. What an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather
attractive too, I might add... "  Professor MeGonagall casts a disapproving glance at Jordan, then turns to watch the action below. Morrígan tried to pay attention best she could, having no real intrest in the sport.

Cradling the Quaffle, Angelina Johnson weaves wickedly past a Slytherin Chaser, ducks under a sizzling Bludger that Fred
Weasley clips away, then dishes off to a speeding Alicia Spinnet. Alicia falls into a fifteen foot rolling dive, feeds the Quaffle back to Angelina- but has it intercepted by a
slashing Marcus Flint. Flint flies fast for the hoop, rears back- but has his shot blocked by Oliver Wood. Wood bumps the Quaffle to Chaser Katie Bell, who rockets past Flint the length of the field only to take a Bludger to the back of  the head. As the Quaffle pops loose, Marcus Flint grabs it, drives with astonishing speed-back the other way, then takes a Bludger himself, courtesy of George Weasley. Angelina Johnson swoops down, snatches the spinning Quaffle and, flying like lightning, races the field to score- As Gryffindor cheers fill the cold air, Hagrid makes his way up the stands, scattering students in his wake.

"Budge up there. Clear the way. How's Harry holdin' up?" Ron, Morrígan and Hermione squeeze together, giving Hagrid space. Morrígan shrugs.
"He hasn't had much to do yet." Ron told him.
"First game. He stays outta trouble, that'll be doin' enough." Hagrid nods, and immediately Morrígan can guess he won't.
Above the pitch, Slytherin's Adrian Posey eludes two Bludgers, two Weasleys and the Chaser, zooming toward the goals- when suddenly a flash of gold zips by Hadrian.
"The Snitch!" Far below, Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs makes his move. Hadrian dives. Faster than Higgs, he closes the gap quickly, eyes locked on the tiny golden ball. He adds some speed, reaches out, and--- WHAM!-- Marcus Flint hits him full  on, sending him reeling. Morrígan becomes nervous. Hadrian fulls up his tip, levels off, and glances about. But the Snitch is gone.

"-FOUL! FOUL! FOUL!" Hermione, Ron and Hagrid all chant, with Morrígan agreeing, not that she really knew what was going on.
As a Bludger screams past Hadrian, he tries to kick his broom higher. Instead, it lurches, nearly tossing him off. Below, Hagrid peers through his binoculars, frowns.
"Dunno what Hadrian thinks he's doin'. If I
didn't know better, I'd say he's lost control of his broom-"  Hagrid said, making Morrígan's gaze go straight to Hadrian. She could see the confusion on his face, as he wasn't as good at masking it as her.
"Maybe something happened to it when Flint blocked him." Ron suggested. In the stands, people gasp as the broom rolls over and leaves Hadrian dangling from one end. Neville buries his face. Morrígan is horrorfied and if anyone had been paying attention to her, they would have noticed the red that seemed to seep into her eye color. She was going over every possible spells to help him in her mind.
"No. Can't nothin' interfere with a
broomstick except powerful Dark magic. No
kid could do that to a Nimbus 2000."
Hearing this, Hermione grabs Hagrid's binoculars.
"It's Snape. He's jinxing the broom.." Hermione whispers to Ron. Ron takes the binoculars, looks. Snape sits muttering in the opposite stands, staring into the sky. Staring at Hadrian.
"Jinxing the broom? What do we do?" Ron asks, glancing at Morrígan as she panics.
"Leave it to me." Hermione said, knodding to Morrígan. Ron got the message and started to try and comfert Morrígan into calming. As Hermione dashes off, Ron stops, and turns the binoculars back to the sky. Hadrian hangs from the broom with two hands while Fred hovers nearby. George circles about ten feet below.
"What's George doing?" Hadrian asks.
"Just in case you fall, George will... catch you." Fred tells him.
"I knew I should have gone out for football." Hadrian tells himself.
"What's football?" Fred asks.

   Hermione fights her way through the Slytherin faithful, who cackle at Hadrian's plight, toward Snape. Reaching Snape, Hermione crouches down and whips out her wand. Across the field Ron peers through the binoculars.
   "Come on, Hermione." Ron says and Morrígan looks at him.
  "What's she doing?" She asks.
  Just then, blue flames spit from Hermione's wand, climbing quickly up Snape's robes. Snape continues to mutter, staring skyward, then realizes he's on fire, and looks away. Morrígan gasps in delight and can't help but smile. She was hateful at heart. In the
commotion, that ensues, Ron sees Hermione scoop the blue fire into a little jar, slip it. into robe, and make her escape.

  Instantly, Hadriam's broom stops jerking. He clambers back on, when --SWOOSH!-- a  flash of gold streaks by him: the Snitch.
Higgs zooms up from below and he and Hadrian give chase. The Snitch serves, then dives. As it plummets, Hadrian and Higgs plummet too, giving it all they've got.
On the pitch below, Hermione puts her hand to her mouth. In the stands, Neville buries his head again. As the Snitch drops, the ground rushes crazily upward, the speed breathtaking. Hadrian seems intoxicated by it, slightly crazed, eyes riveted to the fluttering Snitch, seeing it and only it. Higgs, on the other hand, sees only the ground and,
at the last minute, can bear it no longer, pulling up on his broom- and swerving to safety. As Hadrian and earth collide, the
Nimbus cartwheels away, Hadrian rolls off and, corning up on all fours, claps his hand to his mouth. As if he were sick.
  "Oh my God!" Morrígan shrieks, worried.

   As Hadrian coughs, Hagrid takes back his binoculars, which, unfortunately for Ron, are still around Ron's neck.
   "He's got the Snitch!" Hadrian shoots his hand in the air. The crowd roars. Marcus
Flint touches down, fuming.
   "He didn't catch it. He swallowed it!" Flint argues.
    "Nothing in the Quidditch rulebook
discriminates against catching the Snitch
in your mouth. Or any other place for
that matter. In fact, in a game played in
Greece in the late seventeenth century--" Hermione calls and Morrígan grimces, only able to imagine because there was a time were they would play things like that naked. It was in ancient Greece, sure, but Morrígan knew how much the wizards held onto their old ways.
   "Thank you, Miss Granger. We can dispense with the more unattractive historical details of the game. Nevertheless, your point is well taken. Match to Gryffindor!" Madam Hooch says and Morrígan claps politely. She loved her brother but she couldn't care less about Quidditch, and it would be a miracle for her to show up at a game again without bribing.
As Hadrian's teammates lift him to their shoulders, Hermione spies Snape in the far stands, limping quickly away, his robes still smoking.

⟸✯⟹

   Hadrian, Ron, Morrígan and Hermione walk with Hagrid towards his home, a wooden hut on the edge of the Dark Forest.
   "Rubbish! Why would Snape put a curse on Harry's broom?" Hagrid says.
   "Who knows? Why was he trying to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween?" Hadrian says and Morrígan nods.
   "How do you know about Fluffy?" A wicked smile comes onto Morrígan's face as Hagrid let's information slip.
  "Fluffy?" Ron says.
   "That thing has a name?" Hermione furrows her brow.
  "Course he's got a name- He's mine. Bought him off an greek bloke I met in the pub las' year. Lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-.."
  "Yes?" Hadrian presses.
   "Don't be askin' me anymore. That's top
secret, that is." Hagrid realizes his mistake.
   "But Hagrid, whatever Fluffy's guarding,
Snape's trying to steal it!" Morrígan tries to reason.
   "Codswallop! Snape's a Hogwart's teacher."
   "Do you think that would stop him?" Morrígan raises a brow and Hermione nods.
   "Hogwarts teacher or not, I know a jinx
when I see one, Hagrid. I've read all about them. You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking."
  "Now listen to me, all four of yeh-- yer
meddlin' in things that shouldn't be
meddled. It's dangerous. What that dog's
guardin' is strictly betw.' n Professor
Dumbledore and Nicolas Flatnel--" Hagrid stops, furious with himself, then turns for his hut, where Fang, an enormous black boarhound, greets him.
    "Nicolas Flamel. Why does that name sound familiar?" Hadrian asks.

⟸★☆✫✰✯★☆✯✰✫☆★⟹

Hey... 👋

How yall doing...?

I don't think I've even been on Wattpad in months....