Harry Potter and the Gift of Memories [Harry Potter Fan Fiction]

Chapter XIX: Quidditch

It was also a matter of pride for him. Harry liked to be the best. He enjoyed proving to himself that he was the best. In his mind, he couldn't be the best if his side had an unfair advantage. By leveling the playing field, he was ensuring that no side was disadvantaged in any way. Victory would be determined by the skills of the players, not their brooms.

“Well,” Oliver still looked a bit surely, but seemed somewhat mollified, “I suppose that makes sense.”

“You know, you're awfully noble for a first-year,” Katie said with a smile.

Harry tilted his head to side in an endearing gesture of idle curiosity.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Katie nodded, “I don't think anyone else has ever thought about how unfair it is that some people have better brooms than others.”

“I guess.” Harry shrugged. He didn't think he was particularly noble. Harry was doing this for his own selfish reasons. It just so happened that those reasons benefited everyone else as a side effect and not just him.

“Alright, enough of this,” Oliver said, fed up with all this talk that had nothing to do with the coming game. “This is the first game of the season and we're up against Slytherin. We need to win, we're going to win,” he gave them all a stern glare, as if doing so would motivate them to do their best, “This is the best team we've had in years. I know we can win this.”

“Don't you worry, Ollie,” Fred said cheerfully.

“Yeah, we've got this in the bag,” George added.

“How could we possibly lose. We've got new brooms.”

“We've got a new kick arse Seeker.”

“Our victory is at hand!”

Oliver stared at them, the maniacal gleam in his eyes shining like a beacon. It was almost terrifying.

“Right. Good luck everyone.”

They all stood up and made their way onto the pitch. Harry walked behind Fred as the slightly cramped locker opened up into the wide Quidditch Pitch. The stadium was abuzz with noise, the stands packed with students sitting in them, squashed together like a can of sardines. It looked like the entirety of Hogwarts had come to see this game.

Harry's eyes zoomed in on one spot in particular. There, fluttering in the breeze was a large banner that said 'Potter for the Win!' and would flash colors, changing from red and gold to silver and blue to black and yellow then green and silver, every five seconds. Harry smiled when he realized his friends must have charmed that for him. It felt nice to know people were supporting him.

In the middle of the pitch was Madam Hooch wearing the black and white robes of a referee. The Slytherin team was already on the pitch, carrying their brand new Nimbus 2000s. Harry almost laughed when he saw several eyes travel to him, confusion warring on their faces. It was amusing to see their reactions, though he hoped it would further help breech the gap that divided Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Standing right next to Madam Hooch was the Slytherin Captain, an ugly looking sixth year by the name Marcus Flint. He was big and gangly and his body looked disproportion to his head. His facial features were distorted, with his mouth being bigger than everything else and his teeth being exceptionally large. The boy looked like someone had tried to crossbreed a human with a troll.

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team made their way to the center of the field. With everyone now around her, Madam Hooch gave a nod.

“Now I want a nice, clean game, all of you,” Madam Hooch looked at them all with a stern expression, made all the sharper by her Hawk-like eyes. Harry noticed that her gaze lingered on Flint's longer than anyone else. It merely served to confirm what everyone said about the Slytherin team cheating. “Now, mount your brooms.”