The week leading up to the Quidditch match of Slytherin vs Gryffindor was bleek. No one could take their minds off of the scene in the corridor. However, excitement seemed to pick up the morning of the game.
The weather reflected the week we had: dark and cold.
Regardless, as the Quidditch match kicked off, the stands were abuzz with excitement. I could barely contain my anticipation as I settled in next to Jay, Cho, Katie, and Marietta, each of us wrapped in our Ravenclaw scarves and eagerly watching the pitch. Jay had his arms wrapped around me in an attempt to keep me warm. The cold air was invigorating, carrying the cheers and jeers from the stands with a crisp bite.
The roar of the crowd was deafening as the players shot out onto the pitch. The clash of house colors—Gryffindor red and gold against Slytherin silver and green—created a vibrant tapestry across the stands. Cheers erupted from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, hopeful for a solid performance from the Gryffindor team, while Slytherin's supporters hissed and booed, their voices slicing through the excitement with a sharp edge.
Madam Hooch stood in the center of the pitch, her stern face framed by her wild hair. She called for Flint and Wood to shake hands, and the brief but intense handshake conveyed more hostility than sportsmanship. The tension between the two teams was high, a prelude to what was sure to be a fierce contest.
"On my whistle," Madam Hooch's voice rang out, cutting through the crowd noise. "Three... two... one..."
With her whistle's blast, the players surged into the sky, the roar of the crowd lifting them upwards. Harry shot off higher than the rest, his eyes scanning the clouds for the elusive Golden Snitch. Malfoy, always eager to taunt, zoomed underneath Harry, his face smirking with misplaced confidence.
From my vantage point, I could just barely make out a heavy black Bludger hurtling towards Harry. The Bludger was massive and menacing, a dark streak against the gray sky. Harry barely avoided it, the Bludger's near miss sending a shiver through the crowd. George Weasley streaked in just in time, his bat swinging with practiced precision to redirect the Bludger away from Harry. But it seemed like the Bludger had developed a personal vendetta against Harry, changing direction midair to follow him relentlessly.
The rain began to pour, heavy droplets splattering across the pitch and soaking the players. The game's intensity increased as the Bludger's attacks became more frenzied. The Slytherin team, with their superior brooms, took the lead, and the Bludger's focus on Harry became a central point of the match's drama. Fred and George Weasley were both fiercely defending Harry, their movements a blur as they swung their bats in an attempt to protect their teammate.
The rain was coming down in sheets now, making it difficult to see clearly. Harry maneuvered through the torrential downpour, his movements slick and desperate. The crowd's cheers were interspersed with gasps as the Bludger continued its relentless pursuit. I could see the frustration and strain on Harry's face, even from the stands. His usual graceful flying was being hampered by the Bludger's attacks.
When Madam Hooch called a time-out, the players swooped down to the ground, and the Slytherin crowd's jeers filled the air. Harry, Fred, and George huddled together, their faces etched with concern and determination.
The game resumed, and the rain showed no signs of letting up. Harry climbed higher into the stormy sky, weaving through the sheets of rain and the Bludger's persistent attacks. The spectacle was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. Harry's dives and rolls were a testament to his skill, but the rogue Bludger's attacks were unrelenting. I could barely breathe as I watched Harry, determined to catch the Snitch despite the dangerous conditions.
Then, amidst the rain and chaos, Harry spotted the Snitch. It was hovering tantalizingly close to Malfoy, who was too busy gloating to notice. Harry made a final, desperate dive, his broom slicing through the rain-soaked air. The Bludger's attack was imminent, but Harry's focus was on the Snitch. With a swift, determined grab, he caught the Snitch and pulled up sharply, the crowd's roar escalating to a crescendo.
But the victory was marred by the sight of Harry crashing into the mud below. The impact was jarring, and a hush fell over the crowd. I watched in horror as Harry lay sprawled on the pitch, his arm at an unnatural angle. The excitement of the match was overshadowed by the concern for Harry's condition.
Fred and George Weasley were quickly at work, wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. The Slytherin team was mocking from the sidelines, but the mood was grim. Lockhart, ever eager for attention, was now bending over Harry, his smile forced and overly bright. "Lie back, Harry," Lockhart said, his voice dripping with false cheerfulness. "It's a simple charm."
Harry's groans of pain and Lockhart's ineffectual charm only added to the tension. As Harry struggled, I saw the look of shock on his face when he discovered the extent of his injury—a thick, rubber-like appendage where his arm should have been. The sight was both horrifying and surreal.
As Harry was helped to his feet, the crowd's cheers were mixed with the anxious murmurs of concern. Despite the victory, the scene on the pitch was somber. The excitement of the game had faded, replaced by the serious reality of Harry's injury and the ongoing mystery of the rogue Bludger.
It seems like no one has had luck for the past few weeks.
___________________________________
The next morning, as I made my way to the Great Hall for breakfast, the usual chatter and laughter were replaced by hushed whispers and uneasy glances. It didn't take long to find out why. Colin Creevey had been attacked—just like Mrs. Norris. The news sent a shiver down my spine. Whatever was behind these attacks, it wasn't stopping, and it felt like the entire school was on edge.
People were talking in panicked whispers, their eyes darting around as if they expected the attacker to jump out at any moment. The hallways seemed darker, the shadows longer, and even though the sun was shining brightly outside, an ominous feeling hung in the air.
No one knew what was going on, and that was the scariest part. If someone like Colin, who was always so cheerful and harmless, could be targeted, who was next? And why? The prophecy from Professor Trelawney flashed in my mind, making my stomach twist with anxiety. I tried to push the thought away, but it lingered like a dark cloud over my thoughts.
I glanced at Cho and Marietta, who looked just as shaken as I felt. Even Jay seemed unusually quiet. We sat down at our table, but the food on my plate might as well have been invisible. I couldn't eat, not with the fear gnawing at my insides.
What was happening at Hogwarts? And who—or what—was behind these attacks?
YOU ARE READING
Witch In A Flash
Fanfic(Harry Potter and The Flash crossover) This is a story of a girl. She lived a somewhat normal life with her brother Barry, Joe and his daughter Iris. That was until she found out some...startling news. She's a witch. Her brother Barry and her alw...
