I'm Ron Weasley!!! [Edited]

Chapter Twelve

The next morning dawned bright and cold. The Great Dining Hall was awash with the delicious aroma of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good quidditch match. Except for the Slytherin boys, of course, they wished us ill and death.

Harry didn't want to eat anything, while I was eating everything.

- "Look Harry, Ron is eating," - Muttered Neville.

- "Yes...he's not afraid of danger," - Added Seamus.

- "Of course, I am, but if I die, I'll die full and happy," - Harry looked at me in panic.

- "I don't think that helps."

'You think'

When the time came, we left the Great Dining Hall and headed for the changing rooms to change into our scarlet robes.

Meanwhile, Wood cleared his throat to ask for silence.

- "Well, boys," - He said.

- "And girls," - Added Huntress Angelina Johnson.

- "And girls," - Said Wood. - "This is..."

- "The big," - Said Fred.

- "The one we've been waiting for," - Said George as he ruffled my hair.

- "We know Oliver's speech by heart," - Fred said to Harry, - "We were on the team last year."

- "Shut up, both of you," - Wood ordered. - "This is the best team Gryffindor has had in years. And we're going to win."

He gave them a look that seemed to say: <<If you don't, die>>.

'Yeah, he is understanding.'

- "Okay. It's time. Good luck to you all."

Before we left, Harry tugged at my robe - "Are you not afraid?" - I noticed his knees were shaking.

- "No ...." - I watched him - "Yes... I am, but Harry you have talent in your blood, and you'll do well, so cheer up!!!" - With that I pulled him toward the pitch

- "Let's kick some green ass," - I exclaimed loudly this time.

- "So be it," - Said Fred.

- "Amen," - Seconded George.

Mrs. Hooch was the referee. She stood in the middle of the pitch, waiting for the two teams, broom in hand.

- "Right, I want a clean, trouble-free game from everyone," - She said as they gathered around her and looked specifically at Slytherin captain Marcus Flint.

- "Right, mount your brooms." - She blew the whistle and each player rose high into the air.

- The match began, and the quaffle was immediately caught by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor.... What an excellent chaser this young lady is, and, by the way, she is also very pretty...."

- "JORDAN!"

- "Sorry, teacher."

The Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan was the match commentator, watched closely by Professor McGonagall.

'Admittedly, his comments were amusing.'

- "And he hits well, a good pass to Ron Weasley, Oliver Wood's great discovery... Johnson again and... No, Slytherin have taken the quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint grabs the quaffle and away he goes... Flint flies like an eagle... he's about to... no, he's stopped by some excellent play by Gryffindor's keeper Wood, and Gryffindor has the quaffle... Here's Gryffindor's Katie Bell; nice flight around Flint, back up the pitch, and... Ah, that must have hurt, a bludger to the back of the head... The quaffle in Slytherin's possession... Adrian Pucey picking up speed towards the goalposts, but it's blocked by another bludger, sent by Fred or George Weasley, I don't know which... nice play from the Gryffindor beater, and Angelina gives the pass to Ron Weasley who is again in possession of the quaffle, there he goes, he flies, avoids a bludger, the goalposts are there... come on, now Ron... the Bletchley keeper dives... it doesn't come... GRYFFINDOR GOAL!"

Shouts from the Gryffindor crowd filled the cold air, along with whistles and groans from Slytherin.

- "Well done!" - Shouted Angelina

- "Slytherin takes possession" - Lee Jordan was saying - "Pucey chaser dodges two bludgers, the two Weasley and the Bell chaser, and accelerates... wait a minute... Isn't that the snitch?"

As Adrian Pucey dropped the quaffle, he was too busy looking over his shoulder at the golden lightning, which had passed by his left ear. I picked up the quaffle and threw it to Bell, who scored another goal.

BANG! A roar of fury rang out from the Gryffindors in the stands... for Marcus Flint had closed Harry's path to deflect him off the broom, and he was clinging on to keep from falling.

- "Foul!" - Shouted the Gryffindors.

- "Hold on, Harry!" - I shouted back

Mrs. Hooch shouted angrily at Flint, and then ordered a free kick for Gryffindor; at the goalpost. But in all the confusion, the golden snitch had, predictably, disappeared again.

I flew over to my friend - "Are you alright?" - He nodded emphatically.

- "Let's kick their green... ass!" - I laughed, and we went back to the game.

- "So... after this obvious and unpleasant trickery..."

- "Jordan!" - Scolded Professor McGonagall.

- "I mean, after this obvious and disgusting trick..."

- "Jordan, don't say I didn't warn you...!"

- "All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor seeker, something that could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a Gryffindor penalty; it's taken by Ron Weasley who shoots, nothing happens, and play continues, Gryffindor still in possession of the ball. Slytherin in possession... Flint with the quaffle... passes to Angelina, who passes to Bell... a bludger. Bell... a bludger hits him hard in the face, I hope it breaks his nose -just kidding, teacher-, Slytherin scores a goal, oh, no..."

I turned my attention away from the match and watched Harry, his broom was waving and twisting, his broom had started to spin, and he could barely hold on. Then the crowd gasped. Harry's broom gave a fierce jump and Harry was left dangling, held only by one hand.

I shifted my gaze to the teachers' stands, and Quirrell was muttering what sounded like a spell under his breath. Prepared for this, I snapped my fingers and the hinges of the bleachers snapped out of place and sent all the teachers tumbling down in a chaos of legs and arms.

Harry regained control of his broom and as he was speeding towards the pitch, I noticed he put his hand to his mouth as if he was going to get dizzy. He coughed, and something golden fell into his hand. Disgusting.

- "I've got the snitch!" - He shouted, waving it over his head; the match ended in total confusion.

'We had won'