Turning Time (A Harry Potter Fanfic)

The Love Potion, pt. 3

Screams rose and bursts of light hit some of the Death Eaters before they could react. The announcer was saying something over the din, perhaps to cease fire, wait for the Ministry to act. The Death Eaters who were met by spells dropped to the ground below. The ones quicker to react drew their wands to block spells but were quickly knocked to the ground. Mediwizards ran across the field, guarded by a few wizards, who aimed their wands at the bodies. Wasting no time in removing masks, the mediwizards set to work at keeping them alive. One, who had landed before being attacked, took off her mask and raised her hands up, struggling to speak.

Something was wrong. 

A few players from the Quidditch team rushed the field. A few spotted the female Death Eater, who was crying, and stopped. 

Harry tore his eyes away from the scene and considered Severus, whose face was frozen in an emotion, perhaps fear. 

“Everyone, please calm down, and cease fire. The situation is under control. Everyone—quiet! QUIET!” When the announcer’s voice stopped echoing, a stillness captured the air. The spectators were so quiet that a wail could be heard from the field. Was someone dead? 

“The Quidditch players who were captured by the Death Eaters have returned. All are in stable condition.” 

Fear, which had led the crowd to attack, now became a bitter combination of guilt and relief. For the respective players’ families in the suite, it brought tears. A tall, gray-haired man beside them had, apparently, shot at his own son.

Harry, Lily, and Raven looked at each other, confused. None of them had heard anything about Quidditch players disappearing. Severus didn’t say anything, nor did he break his concentration from the people on the field.

A voice once again filled the stadium, but it wasn’t the announcer.

“You now see what happens when you are fearful; you assume. You think you are safe. You think you are strong. You think you can win. By injuring your own people, it shows you can be killed. You have been weak. And you will lose.” This was followed by a cold, high-pitched laugh that sent shock through Harry’s body. There was no pain in his scar, but it itched with the expectation.

Severus did not seem pleased to hear his Dark Lord; sweat formed on his brow, and his hands tightened around the banister of the balcony. He didn’t notice that Lily had grabbed Remus’ arm instead of his. However, Raven did.

No wizard came after the voice, but the effects of Voldemort’s announcement sent waves of reactions through the spectators, who were no longer spectators; instead, they were witnesses of a landmark demonstration.

“After a word from the Ministry, we will continue this Quidditch game. We cannot be swayed by empty words. Our spirits cannot be broken,” a man other than the announcer boomed. Finally, some order was regained as cheers rose up in the stadium.

James, however, burned with rage as he turned to them. “How dare they ruin this game? Snivellus, you had to know this was going to happen. I bet there are Death Eaters in this stadium, in this suite, even! I can’t believe their protection spells didn’t—What are you doing, mate?” 

Remus glanced at Lily, who realized she was still gripping his arm and let go of him. “Sorry, James,” he said quickly, rubbing place where her hand had been. 

James paused, eyes narrowed, then his attention was caught by the field. “They’re coming back on.”

The mood lifted. Harry and James both seemed to think, Finally, there might be some Quidditch. 

The winners of the game, the Wigtown Wanderers, went to the winners’ tent after visiting the players that had been returned. James invited Lily and the other three to hang out, but they were too tired to come up with a retort other than that they wanted to sleep.