Quidditch Finale
'I don't know why you keep fretting', Harry muttered. 'I'm fine.'
Tom snorted. 'Pomfrey may have given you a clean bill of health, but that does not equal a blanket permission to get yourself flung from a broom again', he held against. 'That's just begging for trouble.'
Harry rolled his eyes. 'It's the final match of the season, Gryffindor stands a chance to win the cup, we don't have a reserve seeker, and unless you plan on trying to kill me, I don't think I need to worry about anyone trying to end my existence. Besides, how bad can Ravenclaw's team be for my health?'
This elicited a groan from Tom. 'Why did I have to get myself stuck inside the most Gryffindor kid to ever gryffindor?', he complained.
'Consider it your personal purgatory, Moldyshorts', Harry snarked. 'And, you know, you kinda have only yourself to blame, since you were the one to try and kill me as a baby.'
Tom did not bother to respond to that beyond some grumbling. Just as well, Harry thought as he made his way to the Quidditch stadium to get changed. He really was feeling fine, in truth - maybe a bit tired, but that was the extent of it.
Besides, no one had told him that he couldn't play Quidditch.
'That is not sound reasoning, and you know it', Tom held against and was blissfully ignored as Harry climbed the stairs to the locker room.
"--just have to score enough goals before Punja catches the snitch", he heard Angelina say through the door.
"I like your spirit, Angie, but we'd need to score sixteen goals and keep Punja occupied - I don't think we're quite that good", Katie held against, sound rather dejected.
"Not without getting creative, at least", Fred added.
"And without Hooch looking too closely", George said.
Harry heard a frustrated sigh. "This is my fault", Oliver said. "I should've still held try-outs to get a reserve seeker."
"It didn't occur to any of us, Oliver", Alicia said. "If you're to blame, so are we."
"But I'm the captain", Oliver insisted. "I'm supposed to be on top of these things."
Harry took this moment to open the door and enter. "If anyone is to blame, it's me for getting myself in the Hospital Wing in the first place", he said.
All six heads suddenly turned towards him, shock and surprise written all over his teammates' faces.
"What the-- I thought you were still in the Hospital Wing!", Angelina called out.
Alicia narrowed her eyes. "You didn't sneak out, did you?"
"If you did, can you tell us how you got past Madam Pomfrey?", Fred asked.
"I got released this morning with a clean bill of health", Harry explained. "Would've been here earlier, but I needed to grab my uniform."
Katie blinked. "You just got out of the Hospital Wing... and you're looking to play Quidditch?", she asked. "That's... brave?"
"More like reckless", Alicia grumbled.
'Hey, finally someone who agrees with me!', Tom cheered.
Oliver gave a weary sigh. "I can't believe I'm about to say this", he began, "but there are more important things than Quidditch, Harry. You should focus on your wellbeing and recovering instead of worrying about the match. We can manage things here."
"I appreciate the concern", Harry answered. "But I'm fine - really", he stressed when six pairs of eyes looked at him sceptically. "Madam Pomfrey gave me a clean bill of health, in writing", he reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumbled piece of parchment, "and if I were to just sit around, I'd probably go crazy."
Angelina snatched the parchment from his hand and read it. "This also says you should take it easy over the next few days", she stated as she narrowed her eyes.
Harry shrugged. "I don't consider Quidditch to be overly hard labour, and no one explicitally said that I couldn't play", he replied, causing Fred and George to snicker a bit. "Look, if it helps, I'll try to catch the snitch as quickly as possible - we have a comfortable enough lead that even if we don't score as much, it's enough to win the cup. It's not like my job entails much beyond sitting on a broom, keeping my eyes peeled and dodging the odd bludger", he joked.
"He says, disregarding the fact that his broom is the opposite of slow, that he needs glasses and that bludgers are a menace", Alicia said in turn.
Oliver sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You've got your mind set on this, I'm guessing?", he grumbled.
"Yup", Harry replied with a grin.
'Unfortunately', Tom added.
Oliver sighed again. "New plan, team - Fred, George, you keep the bludgers off Harry", he ordered. "Angie, Alicia, Katie, try to score as many goals as possible. Harry-", he fixed the seeker with a hard glare. "The second you feel unwell in whatever way, you're off the pitch. The second a bludger even grazes you, you're off the pitch. As soon as you see the snitch, you move in and catch the bloody thing, no matter who's in the lead." He drew a deep breath and noisily exhaled.
Harry grinned. "Understood, Cap", he said with a mock salute.
To say that Minerva wasn't in the best of moods would be an understatement. The past few days had been a nightmare - between Quirrell apparently having been possessed by You-know-who for the entire bloody schoolyear and ending up dead, a priceless magical artifact having been hidden away in the school, Quirrell then dying or even being killed by Harry Potter, and Harry Potter having to be carted to the Hospital Wing, she hadn't caught much sleep, and it unfortunately showed on her shortening temper.
The fact that the final match of the Quidditch season now looked like it would be yet another humiliation for Gryffindor was the cherry on top of the misery cake - the team had started off great, and having Potter as seeker, while a gamble, had payed off. Minerva had even dared to hope that maybe her lions stood a chance to win the Cup once again, in no small part due to the satisfaction it would give her to see Severus' smugness vanish just for one year.
Why Albus had ever thought to hire him was a good idea was well beyond her - in truth, she questioned a great many decisions the headmaster had made recently, starting with Severus being hired eleven years ago and ending with hiring Quirrell. She could understand his explanation - wanting to keep a potential threat where he could see him - but she still felt it was highly irresponsible of him, nevermind the fact that he'd not let her in on this rather important fact. If he had, she wouldn't have dismissed Potter's wild story, and he would not have gone after Quirrell and gotten hurt.
'What a wretched mess', she thought to herself as Jordan called out the names of the Ravenclaw team rather unenthusiastically - he never had managed to be an impartial commentator, and Minerva doubted that he ever would be.
"And now, the amazing Gryffindor team - Wood! Johnson! Spinnet! Bell! Masters Weasley and Weasley! And - is that Potter back from the dead?!"
Minerva blinked in shock as she shook herself from her thoughts at that comment. Sure enough, there was Potter, giving a cheerful wave to the cheering crowd, grinning like a cheshire cat as if he hadn't been in the Hospital Wing the day before.
The gall of this boy.
"POTTER!", she yelled.
And in a move that was right out of James Potter's handbook for annoying teachers, his grin simply widened and gave a cocky wave as he flew towards the commentator's booth before calling: "Clean bill of health, professor! Ask Madam Pomfrey!"
Minerva naturally whirled around to where Poppy was seated and glared at her. The matron simply sighed and nodded before burying her face in her hands.
If there had ever been any doubt about who Harry Potter's father was, this right here was the proof of parentage.
She turned to where Albus was watching from, hoping for some reaction to the scene. The expression on the aged headmaster's face, however, was pensive, and Minerva thought for a short moment that it was maybe a bit concerned, but his own glance wasn't fixed on Potter, or Minerva, or Poppy - rather, he was looking at the box where the special guests, the talent scouts, the parents and the likes were seated. Minerva briefly followed his line of sight, but found nothing of interest other than a tall, lean man with a dark beard who, based on his darker skin and the large dark turban, was likely a representative hailing from India - likely here to evaluate if Ravenclaw's current seeker was a potential candidate for an indian quidditch team.
Minerva sighed. On the one hand, she did not want Potter to be hurt again, and Quidditch had a tendency of sending people to the Hospital Wing. On the other hand... Potter was their best bet at winning the Cup, and if Poppy had released him...
"Don't you dare fall from your broom, Potter!", she called at the young seeker. Potter simply grinned, gave a mock salute and shot back to his team.
He really was James' son.
'Do you still think this was a good idea?', Tom snarked as Harry dodged yet another bludger.
'Yup', was all that Harry replied.
'Even if Minnie is going to kill you?'
'Yup.'
'Even if Hermione is going to be mad at you?'
Harry rolled his eyes. 'You're not funny.'
'That's not a yes.'
'Shut up, I need to concentrate.'
Tom simply cackled as Harry narrowed his eyes, looking for the familiar golden gleam of the snitch or for some sign that his rival Punja had spotted it. He didn't have much luck, though - while he did spot the seventh year playing seeker for Ravenclaw, it didn't seem as though he had seen the snitch yet, either. If anything, Harry felt like his rival was busy showing off his skill at dodging the bludgers Fred and George sent his way.
'He's probably trying to impress the talent scouts', Tom muttered. 'Here's hoping he's too distracted with posing to pay attention.'
'How likely is that?', Harry asked.
'It's a fifty-fifty chance', Tom replied. 'Getting scouted early on is a big deal, and I recognize the colours of quite a few prestigious teams here - it's only to be expected that an ambitious young player will try to impress a representative, even if trying too hard tends to backfire.'
'So what's your advice when it comes to being scouted?', Harry asked as he whizzed past the quaffle.
'Ignore the scouts, and focus on whatever the task at hand is. And I doubt you're the one being scouted here.'
'I'm asking for the future', Harry teased.
'Kid, if you ever want to become a professional Quidditch player, do it when I'm not stuck in your mind', Tom replied, clearly not amused.
'You're no fun - oh, we're in the lead.'
Sure enough, the score for the match now was 70-60 for Gryffindor, after Katie had scored for the third time.
'Eyes open', Tom suddenly said. 'Golden glimmer, four o'clock.'
Harry whirled around, and sure enough, there was a glint behind him - too far to say if it was gold, but Tom had no reason to mess with him, and so, Harry sped up and raced towards it.
'Did Punja notice?', he asked, not seeing the Ravenclaw seeker.
'Not yet - no, he just did', Tom replied.
'How close is he?'
'He's a good distance behind you, you have the better broom and are lighter than he is - he's not likely to catch up on his own.'
Right on cue, a bludger whizzed past Harry, only missing his arm by less than a centimeter.
'Looks like he figured that out himself', Harry muttered. 'Can you keep track of the bludgers?'
Tom growled in annoyance. 'Is that even a question? Just catch the bloody thing.'
Harry smirked. 'Got it.'
Fortunately, Fred and George had figured out what was going on themselves, and were working overtime to keep the bludgers everywhere where Harry wasn't - usually in the path of Punja's broom. It seemed to work, if Tom's comments were any indicator... until the snitch suddenly changed course backwards while going into a steep dive.
'I hate this thing!', Tom said in between curses. 'Wait, what are you--'
Harry didn't listen, he was too busy keeping his eyes on his prize as he raced towards the ground, seeing Punja approach from the other side in a steep dive of his own while Tom cursed and screeched in the background. He narrowed his eyes as he closed in on the snitch, stretching out his arm as the ground grew ever closer and closer...
The wings of the tiny golden ball buzzed against his fingers as he closed his hand around it while pulling his broom up again in a steep climb, his feet grazing the grass below him ever so slightly. Punja wasn't as lucky, as the loud crashing sound behind him indicated.
"POTTER HAS THE SNITCH!", Lee Jordan yelled as the stadium exploded in cheers. "POTTER CAUGHT THE SNITCH IN THE CRAZIEST WRONSKI DIVE I'VE EVER SEEN! FINAL SCORE 220 TO 60! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"
'I am going to kill you', Tom pressed out as Harry slowed down and waved at the cheering crowd.
'Get in line', Harry replied with a massive grin. 'Hermione and McGonagall look just about ready to end me.'
'I wonder why.'
"You absolute madman!", Wood called out as the team converged around Harry. "You beautiful, goddamn madman!"
"How on earth did you manage to pull that off?", Katie laughed.
Harry simply shrugged. "Dunno, it just felt natural", he replied with a grin.
Angelina cackled. "You are insane", she said.
"Harry-"
"Mate-"
"We-"
"Are-"
"Not-"
"Worthy."
"I can't believe it", Alicia marveled. "We actually did it. We won the Cup!"
"Provided we survive McGonagall's wrath", Oliver laughed. "Come on team, time to face the music."
McGonagall, as it turned out, was mainly furious at Harry for his recklessness, and that fury was somewhat placated by the fact that Harry's dive-and-catch had secured the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor, which - now with the Gryffindor Crest adorning it - was handed first to Wood by Dumbledore, and later to the rest of the team by Wood, with Harry being the one to carry it back to the Common Room.
Hermione on the other hand...
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"
Well, she was not happy, either.
'Whatever gave that away?'
The next few minutes were spent by Hermione yelling at Harry for his recklessness, Neville just shaking his head in second-hand embarassment and Ron, the team and just about every other Gryffindor cackling at the scene.
'At least she isn't using a book on my shoulder this time', Harry commented.
'Still think this girl only sees you as a friend?', Tom asked with a wry grin.
'You're impossible', was the only response Harry gave.
'Now that statement is a contradiction in itself.'
'Prat.'
Meanwhile, Hermione stopped her tirade to draw a deep breath, and Harry, seeing an opening to get a word in, finally spoke up. "I'm sorry for worrying you, Hermione."
"You---" Hermione huffed. "Goddamnit, don't you ever scare me like that again!"
Harry gave a sheepish grin. "Ah, I'll try?"
His friend huffed again. "You bloody prat", was her response before pulling Harry into one of her bonecrushing hugs.
"I say fourth year!", Harry heard either Fred or George yell.
'I somehow doubt you'll wait that long', Tom muttered. 'Bloody hell, I hope the twin menaces manage to smuggle in some firewhiskey, no way I'll get through this nonsense sober.'