A friendly game of Quidditch between Slytherins.
What do Slytherins do over the summer? They get together and play
Quidditch. I'm invited to watch today. If you can't tell, Crabbe and I
don't get along very well. Enjoy the game!
Marcus Flint looked around grouchily, then spotted me sitting in the
bleachers. In fact, I was the only one sitting in the bleachers at this
point. The others had gone off together for whatever reason, mentioning
they'd be back later.
"Oy, you there? Ever played Beater?" I shook my head. He didn't expect me
to play Quidditch did he? "Well, today's your lucky day. Get your broom and
get over here."
"She's far too small for Beater, Marcus." Draco called to him, flying
across the field from his team's huddle.
"If we're short a Beater, you'll have to drop one of yours. You want to
make the decision on which one?" He motioned to the two brutish Beaters on
Draco's team. One of them happened to be Sean Derrick, one of Slytherin
team's real Beaters, the other was a very wild looking Crabbe (I think he's
still mad at me). Derrick was wafting toward the conversation, trying to
pick up what was going on. Draco eyed him. It was obvious he was
contemplating the situation.
I grabbed my broom. They don't think I can do it. Then perhaps I should
find out if I can prove them wrong on that. Worst I can do is fail. Gee,
what an inviting prospect. I steeled myself and walked toward the field.
God, there are a lot of the real Slytherin team out there.
"Hold on there, not with that. Accio broom." Sean called a spare broom he'd
brought from the sidelines. He floated up next to me. "Try it out on a
broom fit for a Beater. Not as fast and sleek as a racing broom, but
sturdier and strong."
I took it from him and mounted. Draco's eyes never left me; I wonder what
he's thinking. Derrick's broom felt so much different from the racing broom
Draco had lent me. Instead of a seat, the invisible cushioning felt more
like a saddle. The handle was thicker, and the bristling was shorter and
wider. It was responsive, not with the feather touch like the other, but it
handled stoutly. As I took off, I could feel the force of it pushing me
along. This was a magnificent broom, really. I liked the brawny feel of it.
Flint threw me a Beater club.
"Look, take this, and hit those," he pointed to the Bludgers, still
constrained in their case, "away from us and at them. Can you do that?"
"I can try." He nodded and motioned Derrick to release the Bludgers.
"Lets see it then." He gave an ugly lopsided grin. Let's see it then, huh?
I leaned into my broom and followed after a Bludger. Coming round on it
from the other side, I walloped it with all my might straight at Marcus. He
barely dodged in time, and had a nasty scowl on his face for me. I looked
to Draco and Sean; they were both beaming with pride. "Right then, let's
I heard him mumble something about 'little wench' under his breath, and I
could see by the look on Draco's face that he did too, but we let it slide
The Quaffle was up, the Snitch was released. Draco was on it right way, the
other Seeker on his tale. Why am I playing against him? The Bludger was
between us, and I knew that I had to bat it at him. But I don't want to hit
him! I approached the cannon-like ball, hoping that Draco would lose the
Snitch. No such luck. I pulled back and hit it, aiming it where I hoped
would just sweep in front of him. To my luck, that's exactly what it did,
until it was actually in front of him. He pulled back to avoid it, but it
changed direction for him. He dipped low and zoomed away. Our Seeker was
still on the Snitch. I cheered him on. Crabbe was on the runaway Bludger
that was still lazily chasing Draco. He whacked it right at me.
I froze. The big black ball was heading straight toward me with Crabbe size
force. If I hit that, my arm will rip off! The Chasers whipped underneath
me in their frenzy for the Quaffle. I dipped and put one of the opposing
members between myself and the Bludger. Crabbe swore, and Derrick arrived
just in the knick of time to save him. Thankfully, he'd been thrown off
guard enough that he miss-aimed and they lost possession.
Warrington and Montague, actual Slytherin team Chasers, just happened to be
on Draco's team. How did all the guys I got along with end up as my
opponents? They eagerly chased Flint and our two other Chaser's across the
field. We scored. Bole, another of Slytherin team and our other Beater,
came up beside me. He didn't say anything but looked down at his giant
fists grasping the Beater club. He wanted me to mimic is grip. I followed
Warrington was in possession now. Flint ducked a wild Bludger sent his way
by Crabbe. Malfoy sniggered below him and gave an approving nod to the
Beater. The Chasers were dodging madly about the field in their finely
orchestrated Quidditch dance. Goyle, our Keeper, took the Quaffle to his
gut, but managed to keep it from making a goal.
The Quaffle switched back and forth, falling and jumping about the field
from friendly hand to enemy. Montague seized it from our players and made
for the goal. Flint came in at him like some honking football player and
nearly tackled him off his broom. Warrington was livid. He and the other
two Chasers flew in a tight pack, discussing their tactics. They broke
apart in a sweeping display of organization and ambushed one of our
Chaser's on his way toward the goal. They managed to gain the Quaffle and
scored on Goyle, who was busy dodging two Bludgers.
Montague tried to feign left and drop the ball to his other Chaser below
him, but one of ours was ready on their tail and snatched it from them. He
sped toward the goal. It was dizzying watching the Chasers throw the ball
about as they wove in and out of each other and our rivals, who were
desperately trying to retrieve it. We scored again.
Things continued on like that. The Chasers were doing their jobs well, the
Beaters (myself included) were battling fiercely, the Keepers were sharp,
and the Seekers were on the prowl. Both teams scored numerous times before
the Snitch was spotted again.
The Seekers dove suddenly, distracting a couple of the players. I took the
moment to punch a Bludger at an opposing Chaser who wasn't so easily
unfocused. It hit him square in the back, causing him to drop the Quaffle,
and nearly fall off his broom. The Snitch disappeared before it was caught,
and Draco's cursing could be heard throughout the pitch.
I think steam may have begun to issue forth from Crabbe's ears. His face
was red. Frankly, he looked like a big angry gorilla. I spent the next ten
minutes dodging and redirecting the Bludgers that he struck my way. Then
the Seekers were onto the Snitch again. Crabbe belted a Bludger at our
Seeker with such clout as I wouldn't have thought possible. My partner was
on the other side of the pitch occupying Derrick. I was the only thing that
stood a chance at saving my Seeker from what seemed like certain death.
The Bludger was hurtling towards him with immense force. I took a deep
breath and chased after it. I knew I couldn't hit it, not with the
intensity it was traveling; there was no way. Instead I caught up to it and
made it chase me instead of pursuing its former course. It took the bait,
wobbling after me at near light speed. I lead it away from the Seekers. It
was on me and closing fast. Just when I thought it was sure to hit me, I
dodge to one side and swung my broom about face. With everything I could
muster I slammed my club into it in one fell swoop, using motion and body
weight to throw more power into it.
I thought my shoulder must have shattered. It broke into searing pain and I
dropped my club with a cry, letting my broom sink toward the grass of the
pitch. I heard a giant thump and a yelp. A large body fell out of the sky
in front of me and hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Crabbe lay on the field in an unconscious heap. Draco was standing, not far
away, holding the golden Snitch triumphantly above his head. We'd lost.