Fear of a Name

Chapter Fifty Five: The Golden Snitch

"THIRTY-ZERO!"
I opened my eyes again to see Katie doing a loop-the-loop in celebration.
"TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING-"
"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way—!"
"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

Just as play had resumed, Harry pulled his Firebolt round and sped off towards the Slytherin end. Malfoy went haring after him, clearly thinking Harry had seen the snitch there, though I was sure Harry was trying to lead him away from the Snitch, because we weren't more than fifty points up yet.

WHOOSH.
One of the Bludgers went streaking past Harry's right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin beater, Derrick. Next moment—
WHOOSH.
The second Bludger had grazed Harry's elbow. The other beater, Bole, was closing in on him.
Both Bole and Derrick were zooming towards Harry, clubs raised—
He turned the Firebolt upwards at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan, as the Slytherin beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle — Flint alongside her — poke him in the eye, Angelina! — it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke — oh, no — Flint in possession, Flint flying towards the Gryffindor goalposts, come on, now, Wood, save—!"

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.
"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession—"

It was turning into a ridiculously dirty match.
Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he'd thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor. Harry and Malfoy had gone back to circling the match from above.

Katie scored. Fifty-ten. Fred and George Weasley were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded.

"Sorry," Hermione and Ron both muttered at the same time, aware it was them who was meant to be stopping Bole and Derrick knocking anyone out of the air.
"Don't worry about it, levitating them wouldn't have helped that time anyway, we didn't know what they were going to do till they'd already got to the Bludgers," I muttered back.

Madam Hooch was beside herself.
"You do not attack the Keeper unless the Quaffle is within the scoring area!" she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. "Gryffindor penalty!"
And Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred Weasley pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal: seventy-ten.

The Gryffindor crowd were screaming ourselves hoarse — we were sixty points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was ours. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were following him as he soared around the pitch, high above the rest of the game, with Malfoy speeding along behind him.

Suddenly, Harry put on a huge burst of speed; he stretched out his hand, but then Malfoy threw himself forward, grabbed hold of the Firebolt's tail and started pulling it back.
I growled in frustration.
"Ivory, you're supposed to be stopping Malfoy!" Ron said. "Stop him doing that!"
"I can't!" I said, my voice giving away how anxious I was. "If I try to levitate Malfoy's broom now, it could make Harry fall off! And anyway, it wouldn't make much difference — Malfoy's barely even on his broom right now."
"That little git!" someone said from behind us. "We were about to win!"

Even from all the way down in the stands, I could tell that Harry was angry enough to hit Malfoy, but he couldn't reach. Malfoy looked out of breath from the effort of holding onto the Firebolt, but he'd achieved what he'd wanted — the Snitch had disappeared again.
"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics!" Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B—"
Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her fist in Malfoy's direction; her hat had fallen off, and she, too, was shouting furiously.

Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.
"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores—" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor..."
Harry was now marking Malfoy so closely their knees kept hitting each other.

"Angelina Johnson gets the quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!"
Hermione shouted something, and I quickly turned to look at where she was pointing. Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy, even the Slytherin keeper, was streaking up the pitch towards Angelina — they were all going to block her—

I watched as Harry wheeled his Firebolt about, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forwards. Like a bullet, he shot towards the Slytherins.
"AAAAAAARRRGH!"
They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed towards them; Angelina's way was clear.
"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor lead by eighty points to twenty!"

As everyone was celebrating, I saw Malfoy suddenly go into a dive, a look of triumph on his face.
"Malfoy! Look at Malfoy!" I yelled.
We all watched, silent now, as Harry urged his Firebolt downwards. Malfoy was miles ahead, there was no way Harry would make it in time, surely—
He was gaining on Malfoy... Harry flattened himself to the handle of his broom as Bole sent a Bludger at him... he was at Malfoy's ankles... he was level—

Harry threw himself forwards, taking both hands off his broom. He knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way, and—
"YES!"
He pulled out of the dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. The tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers. We'd won.

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A/n: thank you so much for 10k reads!!!!! I'm actually screaming rn 😂. I'm so glad (and amazed) that so many people have read this and seemed to have been enjoying it! I never expected to get this many reads in a million years! Anyways this is getting a bit long now so I'mma go eat some ice cream to celebrate 🙃😂. Thanks again!
~ Charlie 🖤