Harry's (and Hadrian's) First Quidditch Game (November 1991)
November 7th 1991
It was time for Harry to face his new fear. His first Quidditch game. And it just had to be Gryffindor VS Slytherin.
The day had started out with nausea and worry, and this had continued on that it made Harry unable to put anything in his mouth at breakfast.
“You’ve got to eat some breakfast.” Hermione, who’d become a close friend after the troll incident (as they’d found themselves calling it), tried to coax him, but Harry just shook his head.
“I don’t want anything.”
“Just a bit of toast.” Hermione tried to convince him, but Harry just couldn’t.
“I’m not hungry.” Harry actually felt terrible. In an hour’s time he’d be walking on to the pitch and harry couldn't help feeling anything but anxious.
“Harry, you need your strength,” Seamus Finnigan said loudly. “Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team.”
“Thanks, Seamus.” Harry said blandly, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.
“Harry….” The group of first years turned to see second-years Hadrian Black and Justinian Griffin, chasers for Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively, standing behind them. Hadrian had been the one to speak, but Justinian continued for him.
“You really need to eat if you have any hope of feeling good enough for the game.”
“I know…. I just….” Harry sighed, unable to express how nervous he was.
“I know you’re extremely nervous and anxious right now, but you still need to eat at least a bit of toast to tide you over.” Hadrian said softly, and Harry sighed in defeat at his words, knowing he was right. Harry wondered how the boy could be so calm when it was also his first game.
Hesitantly, Harry reached over and took a piece of toast, slowly nibbling on it until it was finished.
“He’ll still do great!” One of the Weasley Twins (he thought it was George but he wasn’t sure) said brightly, clapping Harry on the back as the two sat down beside him.
“We’re just sorry you’ll have to lose on your birthday.” The other twin, he thought it was Fred, said with a guilty smile directed at Hadrian. And Harry then realised a very big issue, he didn’t know Hadrian’s birthday.
“Oh we’ll see about that.” Hadrian said with a devious smirk on his face. “Don’t think I’ll just expect or accept defeat. It is my birthday.”
“Oh my god, I didn’t know it was today. Happy Birthday Hadrian!” Harry exclaimed, guilty about the fact he hadn’t known and so, he hadn’t gotten the boy a gift.
“It’s alright Haz!” Hadrian laughed, and Harry wouldn’t admit that the nickname warmed something in his gut. “I never told you.”
“Still won’t go easy on you.” Justin said, and Hadrian slapped him upside the head.
“Some friend you are.” Hadrian grumbled, glaring slightly at a cackling Justin. The two, shockingly enough, seemed to get along very well, and were even wearing a similar look. The two had black t-shirts and black skinny jeans on, but Justinian had a black leather jacket over it. Hadrian had even dyed his hair a bright red, which slightly matched Justin’s wine-red hair.
Justinian Griffin was a second-year that a lot of people envied and looked up to. Even at twelve, he had a burly physique and a round, handsome face with warm chocolate brown eyes that made him look approachable despite his broad-shouldered frame.
Hadrian, on the other hand, looked more like a mystical being. He had stormy grey eyes, a sharp jawline and cheekbones, pointed nose and round chin and pouty lips. His hair was ever changing, to the point where people didn’t know his actual hair colour and his fashion was different every time you saw him. People found him intimidating and unapproachable from his strange attitude towards life.
All in all, the two were both similar and completely different, and Harry found their dynamic really interesting.
The game had started, and Harry’s nerves had completely disappeared as he tried to find the snitch. The crowd was cheering loudly and it was a bit deafening and overwhelming, but Harry made it work.
“Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch,” Oliver Wood had told him before the game. “We don’t want you attacked before you have to be.”
When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let out his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys’ wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannon ball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.
“All right there, Harry?” He had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously towards Marcus Flint.
“Slytherin in possession,” Lee Jordan, the commentator for the game, was saying. “Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Griffin and speeds towards the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?”
A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Hadrian caught it and sped towards the goals in the midst of the confusion, uncaring about anything else.
Harry had seen it too. In a great rush of excitement he dived downwards after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs had seen it as well though. Neck and neck they hurtled towards the Snitch – all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in mid-air to watch, even Hadrian had stopped his escapade to score to watch what would happen. Harry was faster than Higgs – he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead – he put on an extra spurt of speed – and then WHAM!
A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below, as Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose and Harry’s broom spun off course; Harry holding on for dear life.
“Foul!” The Gryffindors all screamed in unison. Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight once more.
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, “Send him off, ref! Red card!”
“This isn’t football, Dean,” Ron reminded him loudly. “You can’t send people off in Quidditch – and what’s a red card?”
But Hagrid was on Dean’s side. “They oughta change the rules, Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air.”
Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides, and he hadn’t been completely unbiased the whole time. “So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –“
“Jordan!” Professor McGonagall growled out angrily.
“I mean, after that open and revolting foul….”
“Jordan, I’m warning you –“
“All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Griffin, who joined the team during his first year, making him the youngest chaser in a century. He puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.”
It was as Harry dodged another Bludger which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He’d never felt anything like that. It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back towards the Gryffindor goalposts; he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time out – and then he realised that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn’t turn it. He couldn’t direct it at all. It was zig-zagging through the air and every now and then making violent swishing movements which almost unseated him. Lee was still commentating though, no one had noticed Harry’s little plight.
“Slytherin in possession – Black with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, doesn’t deter him though, and Slytherin score – oh no….” The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry’s broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry’s broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.
His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd were on their feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely on to one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.
Hadrian took the moment of everyone’s distraction to grab Harry by the waist mid-air and sit him on his broom. The two boys clung to each other in pure relief, but continued looking up, waiting for the broom to calm so that Harry could go back on it and continue the game.
In minutes, the broom suddenly stopped its twitching and fell in the air, Harry caught it quickly, and Hadrian helped him get on. As soon as the Gryffindor was secure, he clung to the broom and hurtled towards the ground at a record speed, and Hadrian couldn’t help grinning proudly as the younger boy flew with precision.
The pride melted into concern as he saw Harry clutching at his mouth, seemingly about to be sick. He hit the pitch on all fours – coughed – and something gold fell into his hand. It was the snitch!
“I’ve got the Snitch!” He shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
“He didn’t catch it, he nearly swallowed it!” Flint howled out, but it made no difference – Harry hadn’t broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the result – Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to one hundred and fifty. A close game, but Gryffindor ultimately won.
After the players landed, the Gryffindors all cheered loudly while the Slytherins were restraining their captain, and Harry found himself face to face with Hadrian.
“Thank you for saving me.” Harry said with a grateful smile and Hadrian just patted him on the shoulder.
“I’m just glad you’re alright.” The two hugged a bit before going their separate ways, Harry to Hagrid’s hut and Hadrian to console (or rather reprimand) his captain.