Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 13:5

The twins cheered with the rest of their team as the game continued. Above the stands, the two Seekers were gliding along with their eyes keen on the sky, searching for the fluttering wings of the Golden Snitch. Fred and George kept them in sight as Marcus Flint flew over to Charlie, bumping him in the back with his broomstick.

"See anything yet, Weasley?"

"Oh, there you are. Glad to see your team could make the game. I hope you got that trouble with the broomsticks sorted. You do know...not all of them can fly." Charlie inquired, with a cool grin. Flint gnawed his tongue and traveled off, dropping past the twins to scan the field at a lower range.

"Slytherin in possession and ohh...the Quaffle was stolen by Simon Graham, seventh-year Gryffindor. He takes the ball up the field quickly, and...yes! Another ten for Gryffindor! Twenty-zero!" Lee announced, as the crowd roared. "Slytherin with the Quaffle once more. It's still early in the match, and they seem primed for revenge."

Fred scratched at where the tether was irritating his ankle, and George stayed close to the Gryffindor goal posts, doing his best to follow the action. The Bludgers seemed more out of control than during practice, and rather than getting in the mix of it all, the twins chose to play as defensively as possible. In front of them, Ivy Saberlyn was trying to pass the Quaffle to Blithe, who was fighting dirty with the Gryffindor Chasers, despite a warning whistle from McGonagall. When a Bludger came near, Fred saw his opportunity and hit the ball directly at them. It made contact with Saberlyn's broom and she dropped the Quaffle in order to grip her broomstick with both hands. The ball was instantly caught by a teammate, who soared up from underneath the skirmish. The stands rumbled with cheers.

"Possession has returned to the side of Gryffindor! Great hit by Fred Weasley!" Lee hollered out in excitement. "Recovered by Briers. Passed to Quarter...back to Briers. Quarter...Briers...Graham...and goal! Gryffindor thirty, Slytherin nothing!"

Lee continued announcing the game as their team made another six goals in a row, bringing the lead to nearly a hundred points. "Gryffindor taking this game in a landslide as...wait...it looks like Marcus Flint has seen the Golden Snitch," Lee stated, while the crowd bellowed in both delight and despair. "No...appears to be a trick of light. The point gathering carries on."

Across the pitch, Montague and Meaney were focused on a single Bludger that was leading them in the opposite direction. Fred and George circled the goals and cheered on their team. When the second Bludger came toward them, they took turns hitting it at the Slytherin Chasers. The boys were getting so comfortable in their positions that they hardly ever needed to duck from the ball or dodge out of sight.

"Having fun, are we?" Charlie asked, flying down to their side, his hair windswept. The twins responded, but a goal by Slytherin caused the crowd to drown them out. "Let us know if you spot the Snitch. It disappeared again. Let's close this out early."

"Isn't that it, there?" Fred asked, pointing to a tiny golden ball that was flittering lazily beside the equipment chest.

Charlie saw its golden surface glinting in the sunlight and rocketed downwards. Flint followed suit, knowing that it was wiser to watch his opponent than the sky. And soon all eyes were on the two Seekers as they kept pace with one another, their arms outstretched, chasing the haphazard flight of the winged Snitch.

The crowd started chanting, "Dra-gon! Dra-gon! Dra-gon!"

"Only inches from the Snitch, Marcus Flint could win the game...and...ohh, across the field it looks like Denorda Montague has just scored for Slytherin. They now have twenty points. Seventy more to go," Lee said, earning a heated look from Professor Snape who was down the stands from him. "But maybe that won't matter! Come on Charlie! Dra-gon!"