Fear of a Name

Chapter Fifty-Four: The Match

The whole of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause, not only from our table, but from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables as well. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as they passed ("Like snakes," as Ron said).

Oliver Wood spent the whole of breakfast urging the team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried them off to the pitch before anyone else had finished, presumably so they could get an idea of how the conditions were. As they left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again. I looked at Ron and Hermione, who were sat opposite me.
"This is going to be one interesting match."

We ate the rest of breakfast in anxious silence, then followed the rest of the school out of the castle, across the lawn and down to the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the house let Ron, Hermione, and me get seats right at the front, because we were going to be three of the seven "protectors" for our team. Basically, if it looked like one or more of the Slytherins were going to knock one of our team out of the air, it was the protectors' job to levitate the broomstick for a short amount of time.

We'd decided on seven protectors, and each of us was watching one member of the Slytherin team. I was watching Malfoy, Ron and Hermione were watching the two beaters, a sixth-year was watching the keeper, and a three fifth-years were watching the chasers. Everyone had agreed that only the protector could levitate the broom of the person they were watching, otherwise there would've been about a hundred people trying to levitate a single broom at the same time, which would've had disastrous consequences.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan as the Gryffindor team walked onto the pitch to a tidal wave of noise. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best side Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—"
Lee's comments were drowned out by a tide of boos from the Slytherin end.

"And here come the Slytherin team, led by captain Flint. He's made some changes in the line-up and seems to be going for size rather than skill—"
More boos from the Slytherin crowd, but I thought Lee had a point. As he'd said last night, Malfoy was easily the smallest on the team; the rest of them were enormous.

"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch, who refereed the matches.
Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other's hands.
"Mount your brooms!" said Madam Hooch. "Three... two... one..."
The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goalposts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no — Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the pitch — WHAM! — nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by — Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina — nice swerve round Montague — duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger! — SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the pitch; everyone except the Slytherins were screaming their delight, me included—
"OUCH!"
Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.
"What happened there?!" I hissed at the fifth-year who was supposed to be stopping Flint from doing exactly that, as the rest of the crowd (bar the Slytherins) booed.
"Sorry, I dropped my wand!"

I rolled my eyes, then looked back up at the match, just in time to see Fred Weasley chuck his beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.
"That will do!" shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between them. "Penalty to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their chaser! Penalty to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their chaser!"
"Come off it, Miss!" howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

Alicia flew forward for her penalty.
"Come on, Alicia!" yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"
Then it was Slytherin's turn. I watched Flint, still bleeding freely, fly forwards to take it. Wood was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goalposts, his jaw clenched.
"Course, Wood's a superb keeper!" Lee said, as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

I sighed in relief as play resumed.
"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! — Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the pitch — THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"
Montague, one of the Slytherin chasers, had swerved in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the quaffle, had grabbed her head. Katie cartwheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.

"Don't tell me you dropped your wand as well!" I whisper-yelled to the protector who was meant to be watching Montague, as Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again.
"I wasn't expecting him to do that!" they whisper-yelled back.
"It's Slytherin, you need to expect the unexpected!"

Madam Hooch was still yelling at Montague. While play was paused, I looked over at Harry. He was flying around, his head turning this way and that, looking for the Snitch. I knew he couldn't catch it until we were more than fifty points up, or we'd win the game but lose the cup, so I guessed he was going to have to distract Malfoy if he saw it.

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, indicating that Katie was taking her penalty. I looked over and saw her flying towards the hoops, Quaffle in hand. She made as if to throw it into the far left hoop, then changed direction at the very last minute and threw it towards the far right one instead. I closed my eyes, too anxious to watch, just waiting for Lee Jordan to announce whether it had gone in or not.