The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages, and the cheerful chatter of people looking forwards to a good Quidditch match. Harry, however, wasn't eating.

"Harry, you've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," Hermione wheedled.

"I'm not hungry."

"Harry, you need your strength," Seamus Finnigan said. "Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," Harry said, watching the sandy-haired boy pile ketchup on his sausages.

By eleven o'clock, the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars, and some, like Draco and myself, were carrying Omnioculars — the wizarding equivalent of binoculars, which allowed you to to zoom in and out, plus slow down and replay what was going on. You could even buy full replays of professional Quidditch matches to add to your Omnioculars and rewatch at your leisure, if you wanted. Of course, Draco's pair was loaded with more matches than anyone could hope to watch in a lifetime.

Hermione, Ron, and I joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean, the other Gryffindor boys in our year, up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, we'd painted a large banner that said 'Potter for President' on one of the sheets Scabbers, Ron's pet rat, had ruined. Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion at the bottom, and Hermione and I had performed a tricky little charm so the paint flashed different colours.

As the two teams walked onto the pitch, they were met with loud cheers from the crowd. I noticed that Harry looked a little shaky on his feet, and, although I was certain he couldn't see me, sent him a reassuring smile. He'd be great, I just knew it.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch, her broom in hand, as the two teams gathered around her. She said something to them, and gave what was clearly the order to mount their brooms, as they all did so a moment later. Then she gave a loud blast on her silver whistle, and fifteen brooms rose high into the air.

The game had begun.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson, and — no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle, and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood, and Gryffindor take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field, and — OUCH — that must've hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by Slytherin — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead, and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goalposts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

The cheers of myself and my fellow Gryffindors filled the air, mixed with howls and moans from the Slytherin.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Hermione, Ron, and I squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join us.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," Hagrid said, patting a large set of binoculars around his neck, "but it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," Ron said. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble though, that's something," Hagrid said, raising his binoculars, and peering skywards at the speck that was Harry.

All Harry was doing was flying around and around the pitch, much higher than the rest of the game. I knew this was a popular tactic for Seekers — keep out of the way of the other players, watching for the Snitch from somewhere an injury is far less likely. Not that it was impossible, of course — at one point, a Bludger decided to go pelting Harry's way, but he dodged it, and one of the Weasley twins went chasing after it, beating it furiously towards Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan said. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and pelts 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 just passed his left ear.

"Honestly, what Chaser drops the Quaffle because the one ball that doesn't even concern them's just appeared?" I said to Ron and Hermione, rolling my eyes.

Ron nodded, and I turned my attention back to the game to see Harry go into a dive. Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs had seen the Snitch too; neck and neck, they hurtled towards it; all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing, as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was flying faster than Higgs — I could see him gaining on the Snitch — he put on an extra spurt of speed—

WHAM!

A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindor part of the crowd — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom span off course, with Harry holding on for dear life.

"FOUL!" people screamed; I winced and covered my ears at the sound, thinking for a moment that I was back at the manor, with Father yelling at me.

"You alright, Dora?" Hermione asked, as Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint, and Harry went back to looking around for the Snitch, which had vanished again.

"Fine," I said, quickly uncovering my ears again. "Just think I'm starting to get a headache, that's all. It's been a while since I went to a proper Quidditch match."

"Send him off, Ref!" Dean Thomas was yelling nearby. "Red card!"

"This isn't football, Dean," Ron reminded him. "You can't send people off in Quidditch — and what's a red card?"

"They oughta change the rules," Hagrid said. "Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall snapped.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

"Jordan, I'm warning you—"

"Alright, alright. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away no trouble — and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

The game continued on, with no more fouls from either team. The Slytherin Keeper almost got hit by a stray Bludger at one point, but he avoided it just in time.

"Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it breaks his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherin score — oh no..."

The Slytherins cheered, and I gave a sigh, tilting my head back in frustration. And that's when I noticed it.

Something was badly wrong with Harry's broom.

***
A/N: tysm for 11k reads! 😊🖤

Word count: 1271