The Adventures of a Girl Who Should Not Exist (Doctor Who/ Harry Potter Crossover)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Chaos at the Quiddich Pitch

Chapter Twenty-Five: Chaos at the Quiddich Pitch

A/N: Before we go- yes, you should be mildly worried about that title. (heheh) I know Slytherins can be nice, but as a whole... :/ And I needed to antagonize someone- and that someone sure wasn't going to be Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.

Slytherin immediately seemed to have the upper hand. I could feel the tension as 3/4 of the stadium rooted for Hufflepuff- but I could also sense the doubt laced throughout the crowd. Apparently Hufflepuff wasn't a Quiddich Cup favorite.

The Announcer's voice crackled to life.

"... Yes, Professor. I won't- oh, we're on! Joy!"-an awkward cough-"Soooo... Slytherin immediately takes possession of the Quaffle! Chaser Garfield-Prentice- Wait, really? In possession! Speeding down the field- goes for the point- and an excellent save by Hufflepuff's brand new star Keeper Ryan! Now Slytherin in possession again- no, Hufflepuff..."

Bemused, I turned to Imogene.

"What's going on?"

"Well, I'll give you the simple description. There are three different balls- the Bludgers, the Quaffle, and, of course, the Snitch."

"Of course," I murmured. Imogene bit her lip. "Oh- no, sorry! I didn't mean it like that!" I burst.

Imogene looked like the wind had gone from her sails a bit but continued.

"The Quaffle is the red one. You get points with it. Bludgers try to smack you. If you catch the Snitch, your team gets 150 points and the game ends."

She then fell silent and focused on the game.

I turned to Natalie with a look on my face that sent her into a bout of laughter.

"Um, yes, anyway." she said breathlessly when her laughter subsided. "The people." she paused, then pointed to the person nearest us, swooping around the goalposts like a bird of prey. "That's the Keeper. Since you don't want the other team to score, you need a person there. They try to stop the Quaffle from going in. If someone scores that's 10 points."

Pointing into the thick of things, she said, "Okay, there's the Beaters. They keep the Bludgers off. And the Chasers- the ones without the bats- are the ones trying to score.

She found another player on the field who was observing the action from on high.

"And that's the Seeker. They just try to find and catch the Snitch. I think that's all you need to get it... Anything else you want to know, just ask."

With that slight understanding, I quickly got worked up into the game. They were right- Quiddich was amazing fun to watch.

As the day thawed, so did the crowd. The cheers became uproarious when someone scored, and Slytherin, up 30 points, began to go into a series of chants.

They were lengthy and mostly pointless, but the general concept was "Slytherin is better than you, because you are pathetic weaklings and stuff."

About an hour in, I joined in with the stomping and the clapping and the cheering.

@@@

It was much too clever to hide a scream in the uproar.

The cry of distress was lost like a grain of sand on a beach, like a raindrop in a thunderstorm.

The body wasn't.

@@@

Suddenly, I felt something go... off. Almost simultaneously, The Announcer also noticed something amiss.

"Professor- I think something..." the microphone clicked off, and I could see flustered expressions emerge up on the announcers' platform.

"What's wrong?" asked Natalie right away.

"I don't know. Stay there." I had a mind to see what had happened.

I hurried over to the nearest tower. One entrance- and the door was locked.

Think. This is what magic was for.

I drew my wand, muttering "Alohomora" over and over, tapping the lock until finally something clicked.

I pushed the door open to find a shaft leading up- and a ladder. The rungs seemed sturdy enough, so I lifted myself up and began to climb.

Forty-seven seconds and 12 milliseconds later, I reached the (mercifully empty) viewing platform.

A quick survey found the disturbance to be deep in the heart of the Gryffindor stands. Already, a Professor was on their way over, trying valiantly to clear a path through the students.

I hurried as fast as I could back down and sprinted across the stands toward the Gryffindors.

Reaching out to the minds of the nearby people, I glimpsed a body falling... I slowed, partially from apprehension and partially from exhaustion. "Wireless" memory-searching was a skill I'd taught myself and it was rather taxing.

Sure enough, there seemed to be some damage done.

A boy was sprawled on the stairs, a look of confusion and fear on his face. He was at an unnatural angle- whether dead or unconscious, I couldn't be sure. A figure sat on a bench, head in hands, as another screamed and cried.

The Professor finally reached the scene, surveyed it quickly, and bent down to the boy.

She nodded brusquely and scooped him up, barking orders to clear the area. Drawing her wand with some difficulty, she raised up part of a bench, laid the boy on it, and sent it rocketing toward the castle. She then caught a broomstick tossed up from the field with ease and rocketed away after him, leaving all the onlookers utterly shocked and speechless.

For once, that included me.

A/N: See? That got dark. Um. Nobody's dead. Probably. I can almost definitely guarantee you that. :)

Sorry if it's weird, grammatically speaking- I wrote it while I waited for my food on my iPod and I was grumpy and hungry and feeling generally...

Not grumpy... grumpy doesn't involve teasing/torturing your devoted(happy-making) fans...

Hm.

Moffaty.