Wish Upon A Star

Quidditch Cup

As the week progressed, Hermione became less and less interactive. She had totally shut herself. She would be the last to leave the common room and the first to go to the library. Ashlyn showed these signs at the start itself. Poor Hermione, she had held on for so long. Hermione couldn't even catch up on her extra studying, and this was something Hermione would do religiously. 

Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul?, A Study of Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.

As they Quidditch finals approached, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, Oliver put a lot of pressure on the team. Especially on Harry. He wasn't supposed to catch the snitch until the chasers scored at least fifty points.

Excitement and nerves were running high everywhere. The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley (Ron's second oldest brother) had been Seeker. Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. 

By the time the Easter holidays were over, the tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.

Harry and Ashlyn were having it bad. Slytherins tried tripping them all the time. Ashlyn had gotten so fed up with this nonsense that she pulled out her wand and threatened to hex a seventh year Slytherin and would actually have if Harry and Hermione hadn't pulled her away. Ron was all in for her hexing the jerk but only agreed to keep her out of trouble when Hermione pointed it out that she could end up in detention and miss the match.

Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever Harry went and slouching away looking disappointed when they saw him surrounded by people. Wood had given instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action. The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically so that it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. Harry was more concerned about his Firebolt's safety than his own. When he wasn't flying it, he locked it securely in his trunk and frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower at break times to check that it was still there.

All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books.

"I can't work, I can't concentrate," she said nervously.

There was a great deal of noise. Fred and George Weasley were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Oliver Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself. Angelina and Katie were laughing at Fred's and George's jokes. Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione, removed from the centre of things, trying not to think about the next day, because every time he did, he had the horrible sensation that something very large was fighting to get out of his stomach.

"You're going to be fine," Hermione told him, though she looked positively terrified.

"You've got a Firebolt!" said Ron.

"Yeah . . . ," said Harry, his stomach writhing.

"Just get a night of good sleep," Ashlyn said, and as though on cue, Wood yelled, "Team! Bed!"