The End Of The Beginning

CHAPTER-11

A/N: We're in the first week of November in the story, which means it's time for a quidditch match!

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Saturday morning dawned cold and windy, but surprisingly sunny for the first quidditch match of the season. Ron's Gryffindor squad was perhaps the best that Harry had been on in years and both boys felt confident that Slytherin didn't stand a chance.

The new Slytherin captain, Simon Daugherty, had had to accept nearly everyone who tried out, as Slytherin house was noticeably smaller in its number of upperclassmen and McGonagall had refused to allow any exceptions to the rule about first years. Gryffindor meanwhile, was almost entirely veterans from Harry's team, plus Jay who had made the team and replaced Katie's vacant spot.

"This will be the most lopsided Slytherin loss in their history." Coote was proclaiming to raucous applause at breakfast.

"Will you keep it down? No sense in giving them reason to play harder." Ron scolded him. He was looking a bit pale, but wasn't the delicate shade of green he normally turned before a game.

"You look good mate. Confident?"

"I'm feeling pretty good yeah." Ron managed between mouthfuls of porridge.

"Do keep your mouth closed when it's full Ron." Hermione elbowed him.

"Oi!"

Aubrey laughed as she joined them on Ron's other side. "She's right you know Ron."

"Don't you start on me too!"

"Relax. If we didn't love you we wouldn't bother trying to polish your Stone Age eating methods."

"Alright. Geez."

"Oh so she tells you and it's all aboard!" Hermione spun in her seat.

"She's just a bit more persuasive is all luv." Ron gave her a wicked grin. Hermione feigned gagging onto her toast.

"Spare me the details."

"Hey Hermione, ready to go?" Luke sauntered up behind her.

"Yes. Good luck Ron." She bent down and gave Ron a kiss on the cheek, "Good luck Harry." Hermione barely made eye contact and was already walking away when she said it. Ron gave Harry a look and shrugged his shoulders. Harry lost interest in his breakfast.

The pitch roared as Harry and Ron lead the team onto the pitch. Gryffindor were the clear favorites in the stands.

"Opponents shake hands." Madame Hooch commanded. Malfoy put out his hand for Ron and Harry noticed he didn't have his typical scowl. They shook hands briefly and Harry put out his own hand.

"Good luck Potter."

Harry simply stared at Malfoy as he mounted his broom.

"Players...." Madame Hooch gave a shrill blast of her whistle and both teams streaked into the air.

Harry flew one lap close to the pitch grass before looping high above the action, searching for the snitch. Malfoy circled on the other side.

Ron's team was proving its mettle. The chasers were flying in a perfect amalgamation of set formations and improvisation, passing from one to another with such speed that the Slytherin defense was getting shredded. Barely twenty minutes in and the score was one hundred and sixty to thirty. Harry kept his vigilance; the score wouldn't matter if Malfoy caught the snitch.

Just when Ginny had scored another goal and Harry had dipped down to the level of the upper stands, he spotted Hermione sitting with Luke and idly chatting away, barely paying attention to the game.