The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. We had never had so much homework.

I was trying to write four essays at once, and ended up writing half of my potions essay on my Defence Against the Dark Arts sheet. I was about to have a nervous breakdown. I calmed myself down and re-wrote it all.

"Call this a holiday!" Seamus Finnigan roared at the common room one afternoon. "The exams are ages away, what're they playing at?"

But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows like Lupin's under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears.

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.

Harry had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

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 holidays were over, tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin 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.

It was on Wednesday that it became insanely horrific. I was walking from the common room down to lunch, alone, when Crabbe and Goyle appeared.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Where you going?"

"You two realise that you both realise that you just said the same thing, right?" I said to them. They looked like they didn't understand me. "No, you're both too retarded."

They didn't like that.

Goyle lunged for me, and I narrowly slid out of his way. I couldn't avoid Crabbe though. He tackled me to the floor.

"Son of a-"I shouted at him. I was trying to find my wand in my robes and they kicked and punched me. What spells do I remember from reading the Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook? Umm... umm.... "STUPIFY!" I bellowed.

Goyle collapsed dead on top of me. Well, he wasn't really dead, just knocked out.

"Oh my god, you're so fat. I can't breathe!" I gasped.

Crabbe was advancing on me.

"Flippendo!" I thought.

Crabbe was knocked back into a wall. I cheered to myself before trying to wriggle out from under Goyle.

"Willow!" said three voices, they didn't sound very happy.

Snape, McGonagall and Lupin.

"Can you get him off? He weighs a ton!" I said as I tried helplessly to pull myself from under him.

Lupin looked amused at my attempts.

Snape used some random non-verbal spell and made him come back to life.

He looked really confused. Crabbe was trying to make it look like he intentionally leaned against the wall. Liar.

Everyone knows I jinxed you.

Admit it.

Lupin pulled me to my feet.

"You know magic is prohibited in the corridors." Snape said threateningly. "I suggest we should take points of Gryffindor."

"You know, physical violence is also prohibited in corridors. Perhaps you should make that plainer to Crabbe and Goyle because they don't seem to understand. I also refute your second argument by saying it was in self defence." I said sounding very posh and surprising everyone, including myself.

"If you use magic in the corridors again, there will be punishment Willow." Snape said.

"And if you two use violence again, I will make sure that there is punishment." Lupin said fiercely.

"Willow, I suggest you go off to the hospital wing, you look terrible." Said McGonagall. She cast an eye around and saw other Slytherin's looking particularly nasty. "I'll walk you."

We took off and she frowned at me.

"You're really unpredictable Willow. You use magic which is too advanced for you to know and then you use a sentence that makes sense...What's happened to that little girl who walked in here three years ago? Next thing you know, you'll start having boyfriends!"

George - ahem.

"What are you? My mother?" I asked with a massive smile on my face.

"Maybe I am!" she said randomly.

McGonagall and random don't mix.

I'm so confused.

Ahh!

I turned to look at her but she had left and I was right outside the Hospital wing.

"Willow here again?" Madam Pomfrey said as she looked at me. "What happened? Wait, let me guess, beaten up by Slytherins?"

"How'd you know?" I asked, astonished.

"Because half the people in here were in fights. Here's a mirror, I just need to get a potion." She bustled away and I looked at my reflection.

I had a split lip, a bruise was already formed on my cheek and one was creeping up nastily on my eye. There was a trail of blood leading from somewhere around my hairline. Hot really damn hot. The worst part is, that this was all from Goyle falling on me.

As Madam Pomfrey was walking back in, another few students were being brought in. They appeared to have failed a spell, and one of their arms was through another's chest. It was almost as though they turned into gas and punched through someone before turning solid again.

"Here." Madam Pomfrey said to me. "Take this and clean yourself up, I've got bigger fish to fry."

I walked down to lunch thinking it had been a rather weird day.

Later that day, my eye had darkened and I looked like someone killed death. How sexy. George wasn't very happy.

"When I get my hands on them, I'm gonna strangle them until-"

"Or you can kill them at Quidditch!" I said trying for a more positive note.

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 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, Alicia, and Katie were laughing at Fred's and George's jokes.

We were removed from the centre of things and seemed to have a pattern. I would thump my head against the desk and saying 'ow' every time I hit my eye, Ron would hit me across the back of the head to make me stop, Hermione would hit him for hitting me, and then Harry would tell us to shut up. The cycle continued for ages.

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

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

"Yeah ..." said Harry half-heartedly.

Wood suddenly stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!"

***

As the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall for breakfast, they received an enormous applause from me. HA! Kidding, It was like all of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

I have a feeling everyone hates Slytherin. Just saying.

Oliver Wood spent the whole of breakfast urging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself.

"Don't worry Oliver." I said as I munched happily through my seventh piece of toast. "I'll eat for everyone."

"You eat like a fat kid." Hermione declared when I started on my eighth piece.

"Come on, let's go get good seats!" Ron said to Hermione and me. I grabbed another piece of toast on my way out.

We sprinted up the stands and were in the front row, best position ever.

I finished my toast and then I got hungry again.

"Oh I forgot something!" I exclaimed as I reached into my bag.

I pulled out-

Wait for it-

A Scarlett Snuggie.

"Wil, it's the middle of spring!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah, and I'm Willow." I said as I put it on. "GO GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor team walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP".

Then there was the Gryffindor stands. Completely coated in scarletty goodness, we were already screaming ourselves hoarse.

I wasn't going to have a voice at the end of the day.

"Wil, you're in the wrong colour!" Ron said jokingly. "Your face is green!"

My bruise had gone a really funky colour over night. Bad.

"You're a cock." I told Ron.

Behind the Slytherin goal posts two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years --"

Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of 'boos' from the Slytherin end.

"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the line-up and seems to be going for size rather than skill --"

More boos from the Slytherin crowd. I, however, thought Lee had a point. Malfoy was easily the smallest person On the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous.

"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch.

Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers.

Charming.

"Mount your brooms!" said Madam Hooch. "Three...two...one..."

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air.

"GO GRYFFINDOR!" I bellowed.

The stands were screaming.

Malfoy was tagging Harry. It looked kind of like some kinky man ballet thing.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no -- Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing UP the field -- WHAM! -- nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by -- Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina -- nice swerve around Montague -- duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger! SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field.

"YAY! Hey Hermione, you reckon I could start a chant?" I asked.

"Probably."

"Join me! LIONS! LIONS! LIONS!"

It caught on relatively quickly. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors alike were shouting it, and I was very proud of myself.

"OUCH!"

Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.

"Sorry!" said Flint as the crowd booed. "Sorry, didn't see her!"

A moment later, Fred Weasley chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

"That will do!" shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between then. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"

"Come off it, Miss!" howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew forward to take the penalty.

"Come on, Alicia!" yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

The stands exploded again.

Flint, still bleeding freely, flew forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched.

"'Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!" Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "Superb! Very difficult to pass -- very difficult indeed -- YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

and exploded again.

"Lions! Lions! Lions!"

"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession -- no! Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field -- THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Katie cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.

"CHEAT! CHEAT!" I was shrieking at the game.

Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. A minute later, Katie had put another penalty past the Slytherin Seeker.

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING --"

"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way --" McGonagall's voice sounded.

"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

I saw that Harry had seen the Snitch -- it was shimmering at the foot of one of the Gryffindor goal posts -- but he mustn't catch it yet -- and if Malfoy saw it -

"He's gonna feint." I said to Hermione. I felt really awesome using Quidditch terms.

Faking a look of sudden concentration, Harry pulled his Firebolt around and sped off toward the Slytherin end -- it worked. Malfoy went haring after him, clearly thinking Harry had seen the Snitch there...

WHOOSH.

One of the Bludgers came streaking past Harry's right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again...

WHOOSH.

The second Bludger grazed Harry's elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing in.

"FLY HARRY FLY!" Hermione shrieked from beside me.

Bole and Derrick zooming toward him, clubs raised -- He turned the Firebolt upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle -- Flint alongside her -- poke him in the eye, Angelina! -- it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke -- oh no -- Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save --!"

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession --"

It was turning into the dirtiest game I had ever seen. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he'd thought she was a Bludger. George elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation.

"GO GEORGIE!"

Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

The Snitch had disappeared again. Malfoy was still keeping close to Harry as he soared over the match, looking around for it once Gryffindor was fifty points ahead --

Katie scored. Fifty-ten. Fred and George Weasley were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred's and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded.

Madam Hooch was beside herself --

"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. "Gryffindor penalty!"

And Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal -- seventy-ten.

Gryffindor was sixty points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was mine! I mean Gryffindor's.

Harry had seen the snitch and put on a huge burst of speed; the wind was roaring in his ears; he stretched out his hand, but suddenly, Malfoy had thrown himself forward, grabbed hold of the Firebolt's tail, and was pulling it back.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM! I HOPE YOU FALL OFF YOUR BROOM!" Hermione was shouting. Ron looked really impressed with her.

This is why I ship them

"HIT HIM HARRY!" I shouted.

Malfoy had achieved what he'd wanted to do -- the Snitch had disappeared. again.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics." Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B --"

Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to tell him off She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy's direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously.

Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal -- Montague scores --" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor..."

"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!"

Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward Angelina, including the Slytherin Keeper -- they were all going to block her -- Harry wheeled the Firebolt around, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a bullet, he shot toward the Slytherins.

"AAAAAAARRRGH!"

They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed toward them; Angelina's way was clear.

"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty Points to twenty!"

Harry, who had almost pelted headlong into the stands, skidded to a halt in midair, reversed, and zoomed back into the middle of the field.

"GO Harry GO!" I screamed. There was a glimmer of gold by the grass. Harry urged the Firebolt downward, but Malfoy was miles ahead --

"Go! Go! Go!" Everyone was screaming. This was it.

Harry was gaining on Malfoy -- Harry flattened himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him -- he was at Malfoy's ankles -- he was level --

Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom. He knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way and --

"YES!"

He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in his ears. The tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.

"YES! WE WON! WE WON!" Hermione and I were screaming.

We flooded down onto the field and I saw Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; and fighting our way toward Harry were Ron, Hermione and me. Words failed us. We simply beamed as Harry was borne toward the stands, where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup.

"Hey, hey Professor." I said nudging Professor McGonagall. "I think we won."

_____________________________________________

Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god! Here's a happy chapter!!!!

Today is my last day of holidays!!!

Depressing!

But here's a happy chapter sorry if there is any strange changes of tense or anything because it took me three days to write.

Umm...that made no sense.

YOU'RE ALL BEAUTIFUL!

I Luff YOU ALL!

DON'T GET EATEN BY FRENCH FRIES!