“I can't believe you actually managed to buy everyone Nimbus 2000's,” Angelina shook her head as she and the rest of the Gryffindor team sat in the locker rooms getting ready for their first game against Slytherin. Sitting by her side was Alicia on her left, and a grinning Katie on her right. The latter had the broom in her lap, the former was actually stroking the broom like it was some kind of cat. Harry found the sight disturbing, but at least it was better than seeing how Ms. Figg treated all of her cats.
“Oh, you'd better believe it,” George said with a grin, tossing an arm over Harry's shoulder.
“Harry Potter does not do things halfway,” added Fred, repeating the gesture on Harry's left.
“Yes indeed. It's all or nothing with this lad.”
“In his mind, there is no such thing as overboard.”
“Yes, even overkill is a word that has no meaning in his vocabulary.”
“I am surprised,” Harry interrupted in a dry voice, “that you even know what the word vocabulary means.”
Alicia, Angelina and Katie snickered, while Fred and George gave him mock offended looks.
“Oi! I will have you know that Gred and I are the very definition of sophistication and snobbery.”
“Indeed, Forge and myself are so sophistimacated that our vocabularium supersedes that of everyone else's.”
“Too right. We're blokes of higher edumication.”
“And you can't tell us otherwise,” they finished together, much to the amusement of those in the room. Well, those whose name wasn't Oliver Wood, who did not look very happy.
“What I want to know,” the surly captain began with a brooding glare, “is why you decided to buy all of the other teams Nimbus 2000's as well.”
“First of all, I didn't buy the brooms,” Harry gave Oliver a blank stare until the older boy became uncomfortable, “In fact, I didn't pay a single knut for these brooms. I merely... convinced Nimbus Broom Racing Company that it would be in their best interest to donate the brooms to the school in order to promote their products.”
“How did you do that?” Katie asked curiously.
Harry tilted his head.
“I'm not exactly sure I understand the question. Could you clarify?”
“I mean, how did you convince the Nimbus Broom Company to give twenty-eight Nimbus 2000's away for free.”
A mysterious smile graced Harry's lips.
“Ah, but I never did say they were free, did I? I just said that I didn't have to pay for them.” Katie frowned. “As to the how, let's just say there are many more ways to get what you want than simply tossing a bucket full of galleons around and leave it at that.”
Not wanting to go into details about how he, or more specifically Andromeda, had managed to convince Nimbus Broom Racing Company to donate twenty-eight brooms on his behalf, Harry turned back to Oliver.
“As to your second question, I believe that answer should be obvious. It was to level the playing field. When we win, I don't want people to say it was because we had better brooms than everyone else, I want them to know that we won because we are more skilled, more talented, and just plain better than they are.”
Harry had always possessed a strong sense of fair play when it came to sports. To him, it should be the skill of the players that won the day, not the superior equipment they possessed. One of the things that had always disgusted him about professional sports in the muggle world was how many athletes took steroids and other enhancement drugs to improve their performance. That same situation applied here, albeit, in a different manner. Instead of drugs people had superior brooms.
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.”
Harry mounted his broom, smiling as he felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline that came whenever he was in competition.
Madam Hooch brought the whistle to her mouth and gave it a hard blow, the small silver device emitting a fierce noise that belied it's tiny size.
Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.
"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.”
Harry had to withhold a smile at Lee Jordan's commentary, as well as Professor McGonagall's outburst. If this was how he was for all of the games, these matches would prove to be very interesting.
Everyone had quickly gone to their positions. Adrian Pucey had the Quaffle and was being guarded on either side by Marcus Flint and Graham Montague. The three Chasers from his team, Alicia, Angelina, and Katie were all trying to find break through their play to get the Quaffle. Several meters away Fred and George were smacking the Bludgers toward the trio of Slytherin Chasers, but their efforts were stymied by Slytherin's own Beaters. High above them all, Terrence Higgs, Slytherin's Seeker, searched for the Snitch.
Harry ignored Terrence and drove towards Adrian, pushing to his top speed within a few seconds.
For a moment, Harry reveled in the feeling of being in the air, the wind as it whipped about his face, the way the broom seemed to respond to his slightest touch, as if it knew exactly what he wanted it to do before he did it. This feeling, it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. The joy he felt flying on those school brooms paled comparison to what he felt now.
Then the moment was over. Adrian threw the Quaffle towards Marcus, and Harry twitched his broom in this new direction.
Before Flint even had a clue on what was happening, Harry was there, diving right by him. With a sharp twist, the broom under his legs flipped end over end. His left leg extended outwards as his body and broom corkscrewed through the hair. A grin crossed his face as his foot connected with the Quaffle, not only launching it out of Marcus' path, but into Katie's.
“UNBELIEVABLE!” Came the shout from Lee Jordan. “Harry Potter pulls of a miraculous stunt worthy of the professional leagues and breaks up the Slytherin's play! It looks like Wood made a great move when he placed Potter on the team!”
Flint glared at Harry with a look of absolute loathing. He tried to knock the boy off his broom, but by that time Harry was already moving away.
“Katie has the Quaffle. Passes it to Angeline who passes it to Alicia. Marcus is closing in, boy does he look mad. And once again he's blocked by Potter! Alicia's going in for the shot—no! She passes it back to Katie who tosses it in and scores! A fabulous play by Potter and the Flying Foxes!”
“Flying Foxes?” Professor McGonagall's dry voice comes out sounding confused.
“Of course, foxes because of how damn foxy they are, and how lovely their backsides look on a broom.”
“Enough of this, Jordan! Either you cease this irresponsible commentary or so help me I will see you out of this box this instant!”
“... Sorry Professor.”
Harry's eyes constantly scanned the pitch, even as he gestured to Fred and George. The Slytherin's were making another play. It looked like Higgs was even trying to get in on it in order to help, but was rebuffed by Flint.
As the angry Terrence Higgs flew up high again, the three Slytherin Chasers tried to maneuver themselves around each other to present a difficult target. The Beaters were on either side, prepared to defend the trio, while Gryffindor's own trio split up to wait for a moment of opportunity.
That moment came when Harry dove at the nearest Slytherin Beater. Fred followed behind him, prepping for a shot while George harrassed Higgs to keep him occupied. The Slytherin boy's eyes widened as Harry played a game of chicken. At the last second Harry pulled up while the Slytherin Beater pulled down, not only allowing Harry to pass but also running face first into a Bludger that came from Fred. The Beater almost fell off his broom and was forced to hold his stomach tightly from the pain. The youngest of the Gryffindor team sped straight through the center of the Slytherin formation.
“And it looks like another brilliant interference from Potter! These Slytherin's really need to step up their game if they want to get anywhere! Montague drops the Quaffle, which is picked up by Alicia. She's driving towards the goal posts. Angelina and Potter are playing interference. Alicia passes to Katie who fakes and—score another point for Gryffindor! It's twenty Gryffindor! Zilch Slytherin! That's showing those dirty snakes whose boss!”
“LEE JORDAN!”
The game continued to progress. Harry would help the Chasers while keeping his eyes open for the Snitch. He would occasionally team up with Fred and George, either to harass Higgs or the Slytherin Chasers. Play after play was made with the Gryffindor team slowly rapidly gaining points. They made sure to keep the Slytherin team off guard as much as possible, leaving them no time to react.
Unfortunately, they couldn't keep ahead of the game forever. Eventually the other team began to wise up.
Harry moved in, once more flying interference so Katie or Angelina could get the ball. He closed in on the Slytherin Chasers, who flew in a tight arrow formation. Before he could properly interrupt the play, his instincts screamed at him to move. Not one to ignore such a blatant warning, he did, and just narrowly dodged the Bludger that came close to colliding with his back.
For a moment, he thought that was the last of the problems, but then another Bludger came screaming at him from the front, and Harry was forced to corkscrew out of the way.
He yanked on his broom, hurtling himself above the Bludgers as Fred and George moved in to intercept. With his ability to interfere with the play broken, the Slytherin Chasers, led by Marcus Flint made it to the goal posts guarded by Oliver Wood.
“Flint passes to Pucey, who passes to Montague and back to Flint. The shots lined up and—blocked! Oliver Wood has blocked the shot! Alicia has the Quaffle. She passes to Angelina. Angelina fakes a pass back to Alicia, then passes to Katie. Katie's moving in towards the goal and—what kind of foul move is that! Marcis Flint rams into Katie Bell and almost knocks her off her broom! What the hell are you think you foul, loathsome Snake!”
“JORDAN!”
“I'm not sorry Professor! He deserves to be called worse!”
Things continued to even out. With the Slytherin team resorting to cheating to keep up with the Gryffindor team. Marcus Flint got a blatching foul called on him when he tried to knock Angelina off her broom. Adrian Pucey was called on account of flacking, the Beaters each got a call on cobbing, Graham Montague got three fouls for blurting, and Slytherin's keeper got seven fouls for flacking. The Gryffindor team got many penalty shots due to the other teams excessive cheating, and made sure each one counted.
Despite the use of fouling to get even, the Slytherin team continued to have a tough time of actually scoring. Harry, Fred and George, when not keeping Terrence Higgs busy, did their best to team up with the Chasers and keep the Slytherins from scoring. When Flint and the others did make it past the group, they had to contend with Oliver, who took each shot fired at him as a personal insult and did his best to keep the Quaffle out of his goals. Very few shots ever made it through his guard.
By this point Harry felt pretty good about their chances to win. They were ahead by 100 points, and despite Slytherin scoring a few goals, Gryffindor climbed steadily ahead. If the opposition wanted to have any hope of winning, they would need to find the Snitch quickly.
Which was why Harry decided it was time to end the game on his terms.
He flew high into the air to scan the surrounding pitch. The Snitch had chosen a great place to hide as he had not seen it appear at all since the game started. Higgs hadn't had much luck either, though that may have had something to do with how the Weasley twins kept him occupied when not helping Harry.
A quick glance around the pitch showed him that the Snitch still had yet to show up. He wondered where it could have hidden itself. There weren't a lot of places. The goal posts, behind the stands, and possibly inside of the stands. Perhaps that's where it was. Harry pondered whether he should check the stands out or wait for the Snitch to appear.
And that's when it happened. His broom gave a violent lurch, forcing Harry to keep a firm grip with both hands. It shuddered, then stopped.
Harry frowned. What was that? He had never heard of a broom doing that before. Even the school brooms hadn't done anything like this. And this was not just any broom, but a brand new Nimbus 2000. There was simply no way it could be any kind of malfunction. Perhaps a small mistake in the manufacturing process then?
The broom jerked to the left and all thoughts left Harry's mind as he quickly locked his arms in place. His Nimbus jerked to the right, then up, then down. Back and forth, left and right, up and down, the broom began to buck and shudder and kick like a bull at a rodeo, and all Harry could do was hang on for dear life.
“I say! What the blood hell is wrong with Harry's broom?!”
“LEE JOR—oh my!”
XoX
“What's going on with Harry's broom!?”
Tracey Davis was scared sick. And to think, the day had been going so well, too. It was the first match of the season. All of the teams had new brooms, and her newest and, quite possibly, coolest friend, Harry Potter, was making his debut entrance as Gryffindors star Seeker. Better still, she had managed to finally drag her friend Daphne with her to sit with the others. The blond had not been pleased, but considering it was either sit alone in the common room or sit with Malfoy and his ilk, she had not had much of a choice in the matter.
One might wonder why Tracey was not supporting her House when they were faced off against their most bitter rivals. The reasons were quite simple. Tracey hated her Quidditch team, bunch of sexist jerks that they were, and liked Harry Potter, who had not only befriended her despite their houses being bitter rivals, but supported her. It was only right she support him.
The game had been going so well in her mind. Harry had proven himself to be an incredible Seeker, not just trying to find the Snitch, but actually helping break up plays and work with the Chasers and Beaters so well that the Slytherin team had been caught completely off guard. Even with them resorting to dirty cheating the Gryffindor team remained strong and ahead of the game.
Now it looked like all that was about to fall apart as Harry Potter was forced to hang on his broom for dear life as it did it's utmost to toss him off.
All around her everyone else was pointing and whispering at Harry as he clung to the broom like a leech, his teeth grit. Gasps were heard as each jerk threatened to unseat the boy.
Sitting on all sides of her, Harry's other friends were anxious with worry. Susan and Lisa covered their mouths with their hands, eyes wide. Hannah looked pale and frightened. She was actually beginning to shake. Both Neville and Hermione almost looked sick with worry, with the bushy haired witch gnawing at her thumb like she was trying to chew it off. Tracey could see Terry narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brow. She wondered what he was thinking. And even Blaise seemed to be worried, though the only way she could tell was because his left foot had begun incessantly tapping the floorboard beneath them like a humming birds wings.
“His broom his cursed.”
Eight sets of eyes turned to look at Daphne. The golden-haired blond worred her lower lip. Tracey didn't know if the girl was worried or simply thinking. Even she, Daphne's best friend since childhood, sometimes had a hard time reading the pureblood.
“What do you mean his broom is cursed!?” asked Hermione, almost shrieking with worry. Tracey winced. She didn't dislike the girl, but sometimes that voice of hers was just too much.
“It means exactly what I said,” Daphne rolled her eyes, “someone is cursing his broom.”
“But who would do such a thing?” asked Susan, her eyes impossibly wide and scared. Tracey wondered the same thing. Harry was a pretty likable bloke. Why would anyone want to curse his broom? Unless they were jealous, which was a distinct possibility. But then, the only person who would have had the gall to do something so stupid was that git, Draco Malfoy, and he simply wasn't smart enough to curse a broom.
“I don't know!” Daphne snapped. “In order to curse a broom, not only do you have to be incredibly skilled at dark magic, you also have to maintain eye contact for the spell to work. No one here should be capable of such a feat except for a... a...”
Tracey became worried as her friend trailed off and the blond's eyes widened slightly. It was almost imperceptible, but she had known Daphne for a long time, and could pick up some of the more obvious nuances in the girl. She was surprised. That scared Tracey more than she cared to admit.
“Daphne?”
“A teacher,” her friend murmured, her eyes going up to the teacher's viewing booth.
Tracey's eyes widened. Daphne couldn't be serious? A teacher cursing a students broom? A teacher cursing Harry frickin' Potter's broom? The very thought was absurd. No teacher would be stupid enough to commit political suicide like that. Would they?
“How could you possibly think that?” asked Hermione, appalled, like the very thought that a teacher would willing try to harm or kill a student was an impossibility. “There is no way a teacher would possibly curse a student's broom, it's, it's against the rules!”
Again, Daphne rolled her eyes.
“Think whatever you want, Granger. I'm simply going to inform you that you're wrong.”
Hermione huffed, arms crossing over her chest. She looked like she was about to retort.
“It's Snape!”
The gasp came from Hannah. Tracey turned to look at twin-tailed girl with a frown on her pretty face.
“Now look,” she started, a bit peeved that this girl was accusing her head of house, “Just because Professor Snape was a bit of a jerk to Harry during our first class, doesn't mean he's responsible for trying to kill him.”
“No,” Blaise swallowed, eyes pointed the same place Hannah's had been, “he is responsible.”
“What?”
Tracey whipped her head around to look at Blaise. Both he and Daphne were staring at the Teacher's viewing booth. Her head snapped towards the booth so quickly she was surprised she didn't hear a snap. There, her eyes scanned the booth and found Professor Snape. A Professor Snape maintaining complete eye contact with Harry Potter's broom. A Professor Snape who was muttering what looked like some kind of incantation under his breath. Tracey paled.
“Crap, it is Professor Snape doing this.” She looked at the rest of her friends. Most of them were pale, except Susan who was red-faced and glaring in Professor Snape's direction. Tracey was not only shocked to see the sweet girl actually glaring at anything. The brunette honestly believed she didn't have it in her. “What do we do?”
“We need to get Professor Snape to break eye contact.” Hermione stood up. Were the situation not so grave, Tracey would have laughed at how the girl was still calling Snape professor when he was trying to kill her friend. “I can do that, but I'll need someone to come with me just in case.”
“I'll go,” Blaise said, also standing up. Hermione gave him a nod and the two quickly set off.
Tracey found herself sitting in between Daphne and Susan, the redhead gripping her and she gripping Daphne's as the two snuck off. She craned her neck to look back up at Harry's, whose broom was still trying to throw him off.
She really, really, hoped that Hermione and Blaise broke Snape's spell soon or there might not be any Harry left to save.
XoX
This, Harry decided, was not a good situation. His broom was cursed to try and kill him, and he was currently being forced to old on for dear life as it bucked and jerked and spasmed all over the air. Below him, Fred and George Weasley had actually stopped taunting the Slytherin's in order to hang under him in case he should fall. A few times one of them would try to get to him so he could jump on their broom, but then his broomstick would just take him out of their reach, or begin bucking more wildly.
Surprisingly, a few of on the Slytherin team actually looked worried as they gazed at him. At least he could not be sure that they were not involved, and that they were beginning to like him. Well, except for Flint, who hated him simply because he was better. But, eh, you can't win them all.
Harry growled in frustration as he channeled magic through his hands, forcing them to stick to the brooms handle. He could feel the foreign magic invading his broom. Magic that did not belong to him or the broom. What made it that much worse was that there was nothing he could do to stop whoever was cursing his broom. Unfortunately, he did not have any knowledge of counter-curses.
Once again, Harry had to curse himself for his shortsightedness. When he began looking up offensive magic, all he had focused on were the offensive spells. Now he was suffering for his lack of forethought.
Another wild jerk had him unseated from his broom. Loud screams came from the crowd of onlookers as Harry found himself hanging off his Nimbus' handle by his hands. His lips peeled back in a snarl. He hoped whoever was trying to kill him had health insurance, because they were going to suffer when he got through with them.
The broom stopped bucking. The act was so sudden that Harry had to blink in confusion. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught fire in the teacher's booth. Snape's robes were on fire to be exact. He blinked again, then saw Hermione and Blaise crawling back down to the stands from in between the small gaps in the viewing booth. He smiled. It was good to have friends willing to look out for him.
Hands firmly on his broom, Harry used the impressive strength in his arms to twist himself up in a spin worthy of an Olympic athlete using the horizontal bar. He twisted his body ninety degrees, and landed firmly back on the cushioning charms of his broom. Then he was off.
“It looks like Potter's back on his broom. What the bloody hell happened to it, I wonder?”
Looks like Professor McGonagall was too shocked to comment on Lee's commentary, Harry mused.
He drove towards the ground, where he could see a small glint of gold hovering in the air. Terrence had seen it to, for he was dive bombing towards it as quickly as he could. Harry urged his broom faster, coaxing every bit of speed he could from the newest and fastest broom on the market. He and Higgs were on opposite sides, each closing the distance fast.
The Snitch must have realized it was being chased, for it quickly darted away. Harry nudged the broom towards it, and he and Higgs from themselves side by side.
The much larger boy tried to ram Harry out of the way, using his body weight to knock the raven haired boy off course. It would have worked, had he actually hit Harry. The youngest of the Quidditch players twisted his broom up, barreled rolled over the boy's head, and landed on Higgs' left. They were still neck and neck, but the small stunt had cost Higgs some speed while Harry had lost none. And that was all the lead Harry needed to win.
He shot forward, his hand flashing out with enough speed that his hand almost blurred. His fingers curled around the snitch as he made a fist. With a grin, he brought his hand up above his head and showed his catch to the crowd.
“Harry Potter's got the Snitch! Gryffindor wins two hundred and fifty to eighty! That's the way it should be! Show those slimey, ill begotten, filthy, loathsome –”
“LEE JORDAN!”
“... Sorry Professor.”
XoX
After winning the first game of the season, Harry had set down and found himself engulfed by his team. Angelina and Alicia gave him a kiss on the cheek, Katie had hugged him tightly and told him he was the most amazing flier she had ever seen, Fred and George had laughed and joked and congratulated him on 'kicking arse and taking names' as the muggle saying went, and Oliver had cried. Cried tears of manly pride at their victory.
That had been all kinds of disturbing.
Then the crowd had come. Not just students from his House, but from a number of Houses. They had surged forward and Harry had found himself being hoisted into the air as peopled laughed and cheered in congratulations. The jubilation had lasted until the Gryffindor team managed to escape the crowd and get into the locker rooms where they could take a shower and put on some clean clothes before heading back to the Gryffindor Common Room.
By the time they had actually arrived at the tower, the party had been in full swing. It looked like the rest of the House had been waiting for them. The seven players had entered the common room to once more be overcome by raucous applause. A few of the students who knew where the kitchens were had managed to procure food, and Lee Jordan had even managed to get some butterbeer, though how he had done so when there was no butterbeer at Hogwarts, Harry didn't know.
He suspected it had something to do with the Weasley twins when he saw them passing Lee some money.
Out of the seven players, Harry had gotten the most attention. This he had expected. It was partly to do with being the Boy-Who-Lived, but mostly because he was not only the Seeker, often times considered the most prestigious position on the Quidditch team, but also the youngest one in the century and had just won them the first game of the year. That it was against Slytherin, who despite his best efforts was still considered their most bitter rival, was only the icing on the cake.
He took their congratulations with a smile and humility that he had most decidedly not shown during the actual game itself. He spoke with Seamus and Dean, both of whom had been psyched that they had won their first game and even more that it was because of him. Then Dean had made a comment about football and the two got into an argument about whether or not Quidditch was better. Harry had let them argue and moved around to mingle with the rest of the students. He had spoken with Fay Dunbar a bit, who had just blushed bright red when he talked to her. Then moved on to Parvati and Lavender. They had just giggled at him so he moved on quickly.
He and Hermione had spoken some, but the girl seemed preoccupied while they spoke, as if she were struggling with something. Harry was tempted to ask her what was wrong, and if it had anything to do with her setting Snape's robes on fire, but decided now was not the time. She had congratulated him and then moved off to sit on the crouch, where she would remain until bed.
Harry mostly spoke with Neville and his team, joking, laughing, and sharing tales of their exploits to a crowd even though everyone already knew what had happened during the game. The round-faced boy had been incredibly excited that they had won. While Neville was no Quidditch fanatic like Tracey, that did not mean he didn't enjoy the sport. It was even better when they won because of his friend.
The party had gone perfectly. Well, almost perfectly. If he could just get the older girls to stop pinching his cheeks it would be perfect.
Of course, if something is perfect, or as close to perfect as something could get, it was almost a sure thing that someone would come along the ruin it.
That someone, in this instance, just so happened to be none other than Cormac McGlaggen. The burly second year had not been partying with everyone else, and instead he chosen to sit on one of the plush chairs and glare at Harry from his spot. Most everyone had ignored him for the most part, Harry included, but it seemed the boy had finally had enough after Harry received a kiss on the cheek from a madly blushing Katie Bell. With a scowl, the second year student stood up and stomped his way over to Harry.
“I bet you think you're so great, don't you Potter,” McGlaggen gave an almost Snape worthy sneer that, unfortunately for him, did not work on his face because he was still a child, and instead of being frightening or the like, merely looked comical. The common room had grown silent as he glared at Harry, who merely raised an eyebrow. “I bet you think you're so clever, buying your way on the team with those new brooms.”
Harry tilted his head to the side, then closed his eyes.
“What are you on about now, McGlaggen,” he opened his killing curse green eyes and stared at McGlaggen with a blank look that had the boy shifting uncomfortably. Surprisingly, the second year did not back down. “You know as well as I that I made the team after I beat you at try-outs. The brooms came in long after I made Seeker.”
“I bet that's just what you want us to think,” McGlaggen's sneer was back in place, “I bet you made a secret deal with Wood before try-outs to buy your way onto the team. You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. I know the truth.”
“The truth,” Harry murmured thoughtfully, “You, Cormac McGlaggen, are an idiot.”
McGlaggen's eyes widened as several gasps came from those watching. Off to the side, Harry could see the Gryffindor team glaring almost hatefully at Cormac. Neville was looking a bit worried and Hermione was biting her lip. Oliver was glaring at McGlaggen with a particularly scornful look.
“What?” asked McGlaggen, as if he had not heard what Harry said.
“Do you need me to repeat myself for you?” Harry gave the boy a mocking smile, “very well, McGlaggen, you are very stupid.”
McGlaggen's gaping turned into an ineffective glare.
“How dare you!”
“If you had any brains in that empty head of yours, you would have realized that I could not have possibly bought my way onto the team. Oliver would have never agreed to let me get brooms for all four Hogwarts House teams.” Harry shook his head. “You really should learn to face the facts, Cormac, I am simply more skilled on a broom than you are.”
It wasn't his most intelligent move ever. Mocking someone. Normally, he would have never done such a thing as it would most definitely alienate whoever he was taunting and ensured that he could never gain them as an ally. He didn't particular care about that right now. Cormac McGlaggen was a bully and a braggart, someone who was more than willing to put down others if it made him feel better. And if there was one thing on this good green earth that he hated more than anything else, it was bullies.
Cormac's face twisted into a truly hideous expression of rage. The boy's face was redder than a boiled over lobster, and his scowling, hateful expression made him look like an angry troll.
“Why you!”
He surged forward, hands in front of him, as if to shove or strangle Harry. It was hard to tell. Not that it mattered in any case. Harry had no intention of letting the older boy actually do anything.
Gasps and screams were heard as their peers watched what was happening. Oliver made to move forward, intent on stopping any harm from coming to his new Seeker. There was no need.
As McGlaggen came forward with the intent to hurt, Harry moved. A single step forward, followed by bringing his hands up and in between McGlaggen's. He spread his arms apart, forcing the second year boy's hands to move wide. It left his guard open. Wide open.
Harry darted in quickly, moving past McGlaggen's guard like greased lightning. A speedy jab to the solar plexus was followed by an elbow under the jaw, then a knuckle punch to the throat. Cormac nearly doubled over when the first punch hit as all the air came out of his lungs in a loud 'woosh!' His head snapped up and his back arched most painfully as the elbow found its place under his jaw, smacking so hard his teeth chattered together loudly. He grasped at his throat, gagging and choking as the knuckle from Harry's index and middle finger found purchase on his throat. All of this was followed up by Harry grabbing a fistful of McGlaggen's hair on the back of his head, and bringing the boy's nose onto his knee.
In the already deafening silence, the loud 'crunch!' of McGlaggen's nose breaking was almost overpowering. Cormac McGlaggen's head was snapped back up from the force of Harry's brutal attack. Blood poured out of his now broken nose. His eyes were dulling, losing their focus. He blinked several times. Then he fell backwards, toppling over like a house of cards that had been knocked down as he lost his grip on conciousness.
Harry sighed as he turned his eyes to the many wide eyed stares he was receiving. The members of his Quidditch team were looking at him in shock. They also seemed amused, but that was mostly the grinning twins. Oliver did a look rather proud too. Neville was gaping at him, Hermione was too, but her wide eyed, jaw dropping look was much more comical. Most facial expressions seemed to be somewhere in between Hermione's and Neville's.
Maybe he had gone a bit overboard. He didn't regret his actions, that is, he didn't regret putting McGlaggen in his place because, really, the boy was a jerk and an idiot and someone needed to knock him from his self placed pedestal. But perhaps he shouldn't have been so violent.
“Well,” Harry started slowly, “I hope this didn't ruin the party.”
There was silence for only a few seconds, then a shout of “that was AWESOME!” came from the twins and the rest of the Gryffindors began to cheer. Harry found himself surrounded by boys asking him how he managed to take out McGlaggen, and girls telling him how cool what he had done was while they giggled. Everyone ignored McGlaggen where he was laid out on the floor. They should probably have someone take him to the hospital wing. Eventually.
Harry smiled. He didn't know what he had been worried about.