Five Years Later: Harpy Versus Vulture (1/2)
Title: Five Years Later: Harpy Versus Vulture (1/2)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Deathly Hallows, previous chapters
Rating: R for language and mild gore
Characters/Pairings: H/G, R/Hr, D/S, and many others
Summary: It’s the Second Annual Quaffle for a Cause!
Notes: Rowling’s fairly vague about this sport she came up with. I’m doing what I can to clean it up, and to make some of its systems a little more relevant. If you think I tweaked too much, sorry. It's also my first real experience writing kids. So I apologize in advance.
I don’t own most of these characters. I made up most of the Quidditch participants, as well as Hermione Caroline. Everyone else, along with most of the team names, belong to JK Rowling.
Four Years Later: Purple Plastic Ninjas / Previous Chapters / Harpy Versus Vulture (2/2)
As Harry Potter walked through the bowels of the stadium, pushing his way through throngs of people, dressed in all the colors of the rainbow, he couldn’t help but be amazed at just how quickly this idea had grown in the past two years.
Amazing what can come of two people arguing over drinks, he thought, glancing down at his ticket. They were on the right level, but still a few sections off.
“Hold my hand tight, Teddy,” he said, glancing down at the boy and squeezing his hand. “There’s a lot of people, and I don’t want you to get lost.”
“Okay, Harry,” said Teddy Lupin, who appeared to be both intimidated and enthralled by the sights and sounds that were surrounding him as they walked past food carts and souvenir carts.
And he hasn’t even seen the pitch yet, Harry thought, grinning.
“Hold my hand tight, Dudley,” a voice said from behind them. “There’s a lot of people, and…”
“Oh, very funny,” said Dudley Dursley, unlocking his hand from Susan Bones’ and gently pinching the back of her neck. “You’re a laugh riot, you know that?”
“Well, I aim to please,” she teased, grabbing the pair of Omnioculars strapped around Dudley’s neck and pulling him in for a quick kiss.
“Watch it, kids,” said Harry, “there’s children present.”
Harry looked down at Teddy, who responded to Susan’s kiss with a look of disgust. “Blech,” he said, sticking his tongue out.
“See?” Harry said. “You’re making him sick.”
“I’m hungry,” said Dudley, looking at the piles of pies and chips behind one of the counters.
“Match starts in ten minutes, and we’re almost there,” said Harry. "We're probably better off finding out seats first, and coming back out if we have time."
“Hey, am I allowed to buy souvenirs?” Dudley asked as the four continued to squirm their way through the crowds. “What’s the Muggle rules on that?”
“I’m not sure,” Harry admitted. “I suppose you could get whatever you want, just so long as you don’t wear it around Muggles.”
“Might be difficult explaining who the Vratsa Vultures are down at the pub,” said Susan.
“Might be difficult explaining to Ginny why I’m wearing anything Vratsa Vultures,” Dudley smirked. “Last thing I want is her broomstick shoved up my…”
“Kids!” Susan said quickly, and Dudley quieted down.
Harry laughed. “Ginny doesn’t have a major issue with Vratsa,” he said. “If you wore anything but Holyhead she’d probably only use the wand. Unless you’re wearing Caerphilly’s colors.”
“What happens then?”
“Keep away from the goalposts.”
At this, Susan burst into reluctant laughter. Teddy giggled, too, and Harry really hoped that his godson didn’t get that joke yet. If he did, Harry would have to start questioning the time that the boy spent with Dudley, Ron, or George.
“Buy a poster or a banner, if you want,” said Susan after calming down. “You can hang it in your room.”
“Right,” said Dudley, nodding his head. “For my room…”
Susan and Dudley had been living together for almost a year, and from what Harry could figure out, Dudley’s “room” meant the place where he kept his old bed and what little Muggle equipment that could survive in a wizard neighborhood. Most of Dudley’s old toys, like his computer and stereo, had to be pawned off. However, after hearing about a true Muggle moving into wizard territory, Arthur Weasley convinced Dudley to donate some of his gear to Arthur’s Muggle-obsessed hobby. Three months later, Arthur had presented him with his television and XBox, both converted to run without electricity and without the fear of frying in the harsh magical atmosphere. It couldn’t pick up television signals, and he could never have cable or satellite television. But as long as he could play Splinter Cell, Dudley was content.
Unless Dudley had learned to make it every morning along with all of his other changes, Harry could guess that the bed itself was barely used. He could understand why they had gotten a two-bedroom flat. If one wanted space, they could slip off to their own room for a night or for a few hours. Plus it would give their parents at least a little peace of mind, just so long as they didn’t question why Susan’s bed was big enough to fit two people.
“Harry?” Teddy said, tugging Harry’s hand. “I want a Smitch.”
Harry smiled. “A Smitch, huh?” Teddy nodded. “Well, I suppose we could get you something on the way out. I don’t know if you should have a Snitch, though. Your grandmother would be mad if it got loose.”
“But I want one!”
“Well,” Harry thought out loud, “How about this? If you’re a good boy tonight, we’ll see what we can do about a Snitch when we leave. Or maybe a Quaffle. How does that sound?”
Teddy’s face beamed, and his hair turned bright pink. “Okay!”
“But only if you promise to take good care of it and not let it fly around the house, okay?”
“I promise!”
“And here’s our spot,” said Harry, pointing to the archway that led between two rows of stands. “We’re going to have to do some climbing.”
“Oh, bloody… nosebleed seats?” Dudley groaned as they entered the seating area.
“When you’re talking Quidditch," Harry said with a smirk, "nosebleeds are the best seats in the house.”
“Wow,” Teddy Lupin breathed as he got his first view of the Quidditch pitch. From his other side, Harry could hear both Dudley and Susan gasp. Harry knew that this was Teddy and Dudley’s first game, so he could understand their shock at seeing it for the first time. But Harry himself, who had been to plenty of matches, both as a participant at Hogwarts and as an audience member for more than a few Holyhead Harpies games, couldn’t help but be impressed at what he was seeing.
"How many people do you think there are?" Susan asked.
"No idea," Harry said, occasionally glancing back toward the pitch as they began to climb the stairs. In the two seasons that Ginny Potter had been a member of the Holyhead Harpies, the largest turnout for a game had been a couple hundred people. But this, while not quite to the level of the World Cup... "Five thousand? six?"
"Decent turnout," said Dudley. "Not exactly Man U numbers, but still..."
"This is a fantastic turnout," said Harry. "You have to remember, wizards have a fraction of the numbers that Muggles have. There are only a couple thousand wizards and witches in the UK. Getting five thousand fans into one match is an incredible accomplishment."
"A lot of wizards coming in from out of town," Susan said, and Harry nodded, noticing more than a few sweaters, scarves, and pins for teams from different leagues around Europe, as well as a surprisingly large number that he didn't recognize, speaking in languages and accents that sounded like they were from completely different continents.
"Suze!" said a voice from their right side. Harry turned to see an attractive young man standing at the end of a row waving to them. He was wearing a gray and white striped sweater, and wore a pin on his chest shaped like a bird’s head.
“Justin!” Susan squealed, running over and embracing him. Harry glanced over at Dudley, who was warily taking in the scene, before walking over to the two.
“Oh, my God, how are you?” Susan asked after pulling away.
“Not bad, not bad,” Justin Finch-Fletchley replied, extending his hand to Harry. “How’s it going, Potter?”
“Can’t complain,” said Harry, shaking his hand and studying the pin. “Falcon backer, eh?”
“I moved to Falmouth after Hogwarts,” Justin explained. “I didn’t have a team coming in, so I decided I might as well go local.”
“Good choice,” Harry said appreciatively. “They’re looking strong going into next season.”
“Luck of the draw, really,” Justin replied. “I honestly didn’t even know Falmouth had a team until I arrived. And I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he added, noticing Dudley.
“Oh, sorry,” said Susan, grabbing Dudley’s arm. “This is my boyfriend, Dudley Dursley. Dudley, this is Justin Finch-Fletchley. We were in Hufflepuff together.”
“Dursley,” Justin said slowly, extending his hand. “Sounds familiar. Were you in Slytherin?”
“I didn’t go to Hogwarts,” Dudley drawled, hesitantly taking Justin’s.
“He’s a Muggle,” Susan explained. “Harry’s cousin.”
Justin’s eyes widened. “Oh, that Dursley!” he said. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve heard your name.”
“Didn’t know I was famous,” Dudley replied, giving Harry a look.
“You might have come up once or twice,” Harry shrugged.
Justin looked down at Harry’s legs, and Harry felt a little pressure behind them. “And who’s this?” Justin asked. “Harry, I didn’t know you were a dad!”
Harry glanced down to see Teddy hiding behind his legs, his once pink hair now turned mousy brown. “This is Teddy,” said Harry. “He’s my godson.”
“He’s Professor Lupin’s son,” Susan said quietly.
“Oh, wow,” Justin said. “Is he…?”
“Not a werewolf,” Harry assured him.
“Sorry,” said Justin. “I got a little ahead of myself.” He bent down to Teddy’s level. “Hello, Teddy.”
“You can say hi, Teddy,” said Harry. “He’s a friend.”
“Hi,” Teddy whispered, raising his hand slowly and clenching it once or twice in a wave before hiding behind Harry again.
“New people,” Harry said. “You know how it is.”
“I have more than a few nephews and nieces myself,” said Justin. “I completely understand.”
“Oi! Harry!” shouted a voice from above. Harry looked up to see Ron and Arthur Weasley waving to them from near the top row. To Ron’s left he saw the bushy brown hair of Hermione Weasley, as well as the red curls of Molly on Arthur’s right.
“We should probably get to our seats,” Harry said to Justin.
“Good idea,” Justin said, “Player announcements are beginning in a few, you probably don’t want to miss that.”
“Never have yet,” said Harry. “Good seeing you again.”
“You, too,” Justin replied, once again shaking Harry’s hand. “Keep in touch, okay? You too, Suze.”
“Owl me,” said Susan, still smiling.
“Dudley, Teddy, nice to meet you both.”
“Right,” Dudley said quietly, and Teddy stayed behind Harry’s legs until Harry turned around and picked him up, carrying him as the three continued to scale the steps.
“You have jealous face,” Susan said to Dudley.
“Just not used to good-looking guys coming out of nowhere and hugging my girlfriend, is all.”
“We didn’t date or anything,” said Susan. “So you don’t have any reason to be jealous.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Dudley as they reached their row, sidling sideways past the standing audience to get to their seats.
“It’s alright,” said Susan as her leg accidentally bumped against someone’s knee. “It’s kind of flattering, I’m not used to having people get jealous around me. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
“I’ll try not to,” said Dudley as they reached their destination.
“Teddy!” came a high voice from the far end of the row.
“Caroline!” a man yelled. Harry chuckled as he saw the younger Granger climb over all four Weasleys to get to their side, and a balding portly man stood up, looking apologetically at the group of redheads.
“Sorry about that,” said Daniel Granger as Hermione Caroline Granger reached Harry, who set down Teddy and let the two of them talk. “She’s been waiting for him since she found out about the trip. Couldn’t get her to stop asking about him.”
“Hello, Harry,” Molly Weasley said, giving him a motherly hug.
“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry. “Mr. Granger, I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Bill and Fleur had to back out,” Hermione explained. “Victoire came down with something, so they’re still at Shell Cottage. I figured Mum and Dad might want to use the spare tickets, he’s asking Ron about it whenever we visit.”
“Cynthia’s not a sports type,” Daniel shrugged. “But, again, Caroline couldn’t wait to come after she found out Teddy was going to be here.”
“Hi, Unca Harry,” Caroline said, as if noticing the other three for the first time.
“Hello, Caroline,” Harry said as she ran forward, allowing herself to be scooped up in a hug. “You’re getting bigger every time I see you.” Caroline giggled as if she didn’t hear it every time Harry saw her.
“Teddy,” Harry asked after putting Caroline down. “Do you want to sit with me, Dudley, and Susan? Or do you want to sit on the other side?”
“Is Herminny sitting with Aunt Jean?” Teddy asked.
“I think so,” Harry said, looking over at Hermione, who nodded. Just when I thought things had gotten straightened out, Harry thought to himself. For the past few years, everyone had started calling the younger Hermione by her middle name, Caroline, while still referring to the elder by her first name. Things were going smoothly until Teddy had found out about Caroline’s real name. Now he insisted on calling her Hermione and, after finding out the elder’s middle name, started referring to her as Aunt Jean.
I need a bloody graph sometimes, Harry said, shaking his head. “Yes, Teddy, Hermione’s sitting with Aunt Jean and Uncle Danny.”
“I wanna sit with Herminny.”
“Go on, then,” said Harry, ruffling his hair, which had once again become bright pink. Teddy grinned a big toothy grin and ran back to the other side.
“Ron, switch with me!” said Molly loudly. “I’ll let the Quidditch experts sit together. I want to sit with the children.”
“Of course you do,” Ron said, rolling his eyes but gratefully accepting.
“Oh, good, I get stuck with the men,” Susan said dryly as Ron sat down between Harry and Arthur, with Dudley on Harry’s other side.
“You could probably swap with Dan,” Ron said. “I’m not sure how much he’s going to pick up from the game, Hermione and Molly aren’t exactly experts.”
“No, I think I’m good here,” Susan grinned, patting Dudley on the leg. “Unless I’m intruding on Man Time.”
“Man Time’s a myth,” said Ron. “Hey, Harry, Dursley.”
“Got your Omnioculars?” Harry asked, lifting his own from around his neck.
“Nah, I forgot them at home,” Ron replied.
“How’s the felevision working, Dudley?” Arthur asked, leaning across Harry and Ron.
“The… oh, right,” Dudley said quickly, probably wondering where Arthur had developed the strange lisp. “Yeah, it’s working alright.”
“And the FedEx?”
“XBox?”
“Right!”
“Working well,” said Dudley. “No problems.”
“Excellent,” said Arthur. “I was afraid some of the components might turn into gerbils after prolonged use. Glad to hear that that isn’t the case.”
Dudley leaned into Harry. “Was that a joke?”
“I have no idea,” Harry said, chuckling.
“Who was that you all were talking to?” Ron asked, pointing his thumb down the stairs.
“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” said Susan. “Dudley’s jealous.”
“I am not…”
“He was a little bit,” Harry prodded.
“I’m not jealous!”
“There’s no reason to be jealous, Dudley,” said Hermione from Arthur’s other side (Molly seemed to have asked Hermione to switch again, putting Molly even closer to the five-year-olds). “Justin just went to the Yule Ball with Susan fourth year. Nothing else happened.”
Dudley’s head spun toward Susan. “You dated him?”
“Just for the one night,” said Susan. “We didn’t even make it till the end of the ball, actually. He ran off with someone else.”
“So that was it?” asked Dudley. “Nothing else?”
“Considering he ran off with Marcus Belby, I think you’re safe.”
Ron started coughing loudly, nearly doubling over. Harry patted him on the back hard.
“You alright, mate?”
“Sorry,” Ron rasped. “Went down the wrong pipe.”
“But you’re not drinking anything.”
“Inhaled my spit,” Ron said, wiping his eyes. “Justin’s gay?”
“You didn’t know?” asked Susan. “It was all the news in the Hufflepuff common room after it happened. Um, much to my detriment,” she added, blushing slightly. “I kind of gained a reputation for turning boys after that.”
“Unfairly,” Hermione added. “He was your only date at Hogwarts, wasn’t he?”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Susan said, blushing harder.
“Guess we were too busy helping Harry with his tasks,” said Ron. “I wasn’t paying much attention to the social news.”
“You never paid attention to the social news,” Harry corrected.
“But Belby wasn’t a part of the DA, was he?” Ron continued. “Justin didn’t drag him along like Ginny dragged Michael?”
“They had already broken up by then,” said Hermione. “Justin was dating a fifth year Hufflepuff when we left for the Horcruxes, I don’t know what happened after that.”
“Justin and I are friends,” Susan said to Dudley. “Nothing past that. You’re my boyfriend, alright?”
Dudley shrugged. “Not used to the whole dating thing,” he admitted. “You know you’re still my first.”
“And you’re pretty much mine,” Susan replied. “We’re both still learning.”
“Cute, aren’t they?” Ron said to Harry, his nose wrinkled in mock disgust.
“Adorable,” Harry snorted, and Dudley jabbed him hard in the ribs just as the stadium resonated with the sound of a throat clearing.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” a Sonorused voice announced. “Welcome to the second annual Quaffle for a Cause between the Holyhead Harpies and the Vratsa Vultures!”
“Little corny, isn’t it?” Ron said to Harry as the audience roared. “The name, I mean.”
“Well, it’s the one that Gwenog and Viktor came up with after the reception,” said Harry. “They’re not exactly marketing experts.”
“They’re expert enough,” Arthur said, looking around the packed stadium. “Besides, it might not be going by that name too much longer.”
“Why do you say that?” Harry asked.
“Well, look around,” Arthur said. “You don’t see these kinds of crowds outside of a European Cup match. And this isn’t even for points. The fact that this many people would turn out simply to help a good cause hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
“What good cause is this for again?” Dudley asked.
“St. Mungo’s Hospital,” said Ron. “And whatever the one in Bulgaria’s called.”
“And now, the Vratsa Vultures!” the announcer boomed. The roars grew even louder, and Harry noticed that they were considerably more vocal on the opposite side of the stadium, where the Vratsa supporters were seated, along with an equally large number of Caerphilly Catapults fans. Caerphilly was Holyhead’s main rival in the League, so Harry wasn’t surprised to see them siding with the opponents.
“Burgos Clinic,” said Arthur. “There’s talk on Level Seven about sitting down with Gwen and Viktor after this match is over. Talk about expansion.”
“Expansion?” Harry asked.
“The League’s taken an interest,” Arthur explained. “So has the Eastern European League, obviously. We’ve also gotten word from the Scandinavians, the Mediterraneans, and even the North Africans about participating.”
“In what?”
“A tournament,” said Arthur. “Maybe eight teams, maybe sixteen. European Cup is only every three years, and the World Cup’s every four, so something annual might keep the fans interested.”
“Invitational, though?”
“Well, it would depend on how many leagues are involved. Plus there would be a bit of an uproar if Holyhead and Vratsa weren’t given lifetime involvement.”
"The Beaters," the announcer continued over their conversation, "Assen Volkov and Emil Vulchanov!"
The two Beaters for the Vratsa Vultures, who Harry recognized from the Bulgarian team they had seen at the World Cup back in '94, flew through the ground level archway, dressed in matching robes of black, with a light gray collar and yellow trim. They took a lap around the pitch to the cheers of Vratsa and Caerphilly fans, and then joined their Chasers at the far end of the field. They were joined soon after by their Keeper, Violeta Dimova, who was dressed in opposing colors, a gray robe with a black collar.
"I've heard a lot of good about her," Ron admitted as she swept past their row. "She's the new phenom in the Eastern European League, I guess she's only eighteen. We have our work cut out for us."
"And the Seeker and Captain for the Vratsa Vultures," said the announcer. "Viktor Krum!"
The words were nearly drowned out in a chorus of cheers and boos as Tri-Wizard Champion Viktor Krum launched onto the pitch. He past a giant board perched over the announcer's table, translating the words into Bulgarian as well as various other languages that Harry didn't recognize.
"And now, the Holyhead Harpies!" the announcer boomed. Harry's eardrums flinched as the crowd around him roared. "The Chasers, Katie Bell, Ginny Potter, and Mali Pritchard!"
Pritchard, the veteran of the trio, flew through the entrance first, followed closely behind by Katie Bell, Harry's former teammate for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry and the others stood to cheer when they flew overhead.
"There she is!" Dudley and Susan both yelled at the same time as Ginny followed her teammates onto the pitch, red hair put back in a ponytail against her green and gold robes. As the announcers shouted the names of the Holyhead Beaters, Tabitha Connolly and Phoebe Craig, Ginny flew over the opposing stands and pulled a triple barrel roll before joining her teammates. Almost all of the fans of both Holyhead and the Bacau Barbarians, Vratsa's black and blue rivals, cheered this move.
"She's going to kill herself," Harry heard Molly gasp from the far end, but the wide grins on the faces of Arthur, Ron, and Hermione proved that she was the only Weasley in disapproval. Even Teddy and Caroline cheered when they saw her spin, and Daniel Granger's face was one of complete and total awe.
"This is fantastic!" he yelled giddily.
"The game hasn't even started yet, Dad," Hermione said as the Keeper was announced.
"I know, I know," said Daniel. "But, look! Brooms!"
"First time seeing a flying broomstick, eh?" Harry asked Ron and Arthur, who both turned to look at Daniel, smiling patronizingly. Harry laughed and as he looked to his other side, he saw the same expression on Dudley's face.
“And the Captain and Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies, Gwenog Jones!”
"This is fucking awesome," Dudley said, wearing an almost child-like grin that Harry hadn't seen him wear since... well, ever.
"Wait'll they let the balls loose," said Harry as the black and white striped referee flew out of the archway and hovered between the two teams. Gwenog and Viktor flew toward each other and shook hands. Below, a witch and a wizard walked onto the pitch, carrying a jittering chest that Harry would always recognize from his years at Hogwarts. They set it down in the chalked circle and flipped it open. Harry could see the two Bludgers struggling against their reins, as the Quaffle sat idly between them. The small door in the lid opened, and the ball that would become the Golden Snitch was revealed. The two officials stepped away and pulled their wands from their robes.
“Players ready?” the referee yelled, and Harry he didn’t even need a Sonorus charm for Harry to hear him, as the crowd had grown silent in anticipation. Both Gwenog and Viktor nodded and faded back to their teams. “Chest ready?” The officials responded by raising their wands and pointing them at the Quidditch chest.
The whistle blew. Two beams of energy shot from the tips of the officials’ wands, and the four balls blasted into the air.
“Hristo Rangelov of Vratsa has the Quaffle,” said the play-by-play announcer, “And the match is underway!”
“Formation Twenty-Three!” Gwenog Jones yelled to the Holyhead Chasers. Ginny, Katie, and Mali faded back into a defensive formation around the goal hoops as Craig and Connolly split off to get their bats on the Bludgers.
“And it’s Rangelov with the Quaffle,” the announcer continued, “Rangelov to Petrov, Petrov to Rangelov, Rangelov to Gatchev… oh, almost stolen by Bell, and the Quaffle is knocked loose, but picked up by Petrov.”
”Nice attempt by Katie Bell,” said the color analyst as Katie spun around and followed Todor Petrov toward his goal, “Potter faked a steal on Gatchevski, and Bell came up from behind and punched the Quaffle right out of his arm.”
“And here’s Petrov to Gatchevski, and Bell’s right on him. She slides in… Oh! Barely missed a Bludger from Volkov. Gatchevski takes a shot at the goal and scores!”
“That was all Volkov, Bob,” the color man said as Atanas Gatchevski took a lap around the pitch to the cheers of the Vulture and Catapult supporters. “He recognized that the Harpies were playing one-on-one coverage, so he took a shot at Bell in order to clear Gatchevski for the goal, knowing that Potter or Pritchard wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. Really keen eye.”
“As the players get back into their positions for the next set,” said Bob, “we’d like to take this moment to welcome our audience on BBC Wiz, as well as our troops across the globe listening in on the Auror Forces Network. You’re listening to the DMGS broadcast of Quaffle for a Cause, between the Holyhead Harpies of the English and Irish Quidditch League and the Eastern European Quidditch League’s Vratsa Vultures.”
“And what a great cause it is, Bob,” the color man replied as the Quaffle flew back to the referee. “All proceeds from ticket and souvenir sales, which I might add are available by owl post through the Department of Magical Games and Sports, are going to fund research at St. Mungo’s Hospital in London, as well as the Burgos Clinic in Sofia.”
“You’re absolutely correct, Nick,” Bob said. “In addition, both the Harpies and the Vultures have donated two thousand galleons to their respective hospitals. Just a fantastic idea that was a long time overdue. And the referee tosses the Quaffle, taken by Pritchard, and we’re back on!”
“Thirteen!” Gwenog yelled from above, keeping her eyes on the game while also surveying the darkening skies for the Golden Snitch. The Holyhead Chasers formed a triangle, with Mali in front, Katie and Ginny flanking her from behind and launched toward the goal.
“Pritchard back to Potter, Potter to Pritchard, Pritchard to Bell to Potter,” Bob yelled, “flying around in a tight formation, passing the ball back and forth as quick as they can to keep the Vratsa Beaters from zoning in on… and a brutal shot to the back of Bell by Volkov…”
“He really has her number tonight, Bob.”
“That he does,” Bob replied. “The Quaffle comes loose and is picked up by Rangelov. Pritchard and Potter in pursuit, Bell getting her breath back by the Vratsa posts. So it’s three on two, no, wait, it’s three on three, Jones has joined in, trying to block the Beaters from taking a shot at her two remaining Chasers. Rangelov to Gatchevski, Gatchevski to Petrov, who’s in the Holyhead scoring area, Llewelyn readies herself, and a great save by Anwyn Llewelyn!”
The green and gold of the Holyhead Harpies section erupted into screams of joy as Llewelyn threw herself to her left side, grabbing the Quaffle by the tips of her fingers and pulling it in. The Vratsa Chasers pulled back, setting themselves into defense as the Holyhead Chasers formed a semi-circle around their Keeper.
“Llewelyn lobs the Quaffle to Ginny Potter, who takes it up the pitch. Potter, as we all know, is the wife of Harry Potter, who, before saving the world, was an above-average Seeker in his days at Hogwarts. Gryffindor House won the school’s Quidditch Cup in four of the six years that he was on the team. Following his time at school, Potter had been courted by many teams in the League before deciding to take on a less demanding life.”
“Detractors will say that he was only directly involved in two of those wins,” said Nick. “As he had been pulled from the championship the other two years. But no one can deny that he played a key role up to that point. Either way, he certainly deserves the rest. And whatever children come out of this marriage are going to be signed to a contract before they can walk. Weasel finished second in the league in scoring last season, behind only Kyle Mullet of Kenmare.”
“She passes it off to Pritchard,” Bob continued, “who passes it to Bell, Bell back to Potter, who one-times it and scores!”
Ginny’s row exploded as the Quaffle flew past Violeta Dimova’s outstretched hand and through the hoop. Harry screamed as Ginny circled around the pitch to a roar of applause, and as she passed them he flinched as both Ron and Dudley released ear-piercing whistles.
“Ron, Harry, look!” Hermione, who had switched seats with Arthur, yelled, pointing toward the board. The score and translation had disappeared briefly, and was replaced by a picture of three girls, no older than ten, Harry guessed, as school was still in session for anyone over eleven. Two of them were wearing Holyhead green and gold, while the third was dressed in a red and blue that Harry recognized as the kit of the Fitchburg Finches out of the US. They held a sign aloft that read Ginny Potter Fan Club. He heard Caroline and Teddy cry out in delight as a brown weasel, drawn in crayon, scurried around the letters.
Ron roared in laughter. “Okay, now that’s cool!” he said.
“Definitely better than Weasley Is Our Queen,” Harry replied.
“See, those lyrics only work for Keepers, anyway,” said Ron as the teams approached the middle. “I’m not poetic enough to rewrite them.”
“Weasel’s so good it’s a sin,” Hermione sang, more than a little off-key, “She always gets the Quaffle in, Weasel will make sure we win, Weasel is our Queen!”
“Did you just make that up?” Ron asked.
“Of course!” said Hermione, and then admitted. “Okay, I may have written some of it in advance.”
“I’m sure she appreciates your talents,” Ron replied, bending down to kiss her.
Hermione smiled wickedly as he pulled away. “With appreciation like that,” she said, “I might have to come up with a dance to go with it.”
“Okay,” Dudley said to Harry as play resumed, “Let me get this straight. Each goal is worth ten points, right?”
“Right.”
“But if you catch the Snitch it’s worth one hundred and fifty.”
“Right again.”
“Well, that’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it defeats the purpose of the Chaser,” Daniel Granger leaned across the row to enter the conversation. “The only reason the Chasers even play a role in the match is if they’re absolutely murdering the other club.”
“Your Chasers have to score fifteen more goals than the others before they even play a factor in the final outcome,” Dudley agreed. “Why are they even there if the Seeker’s the only player that matters?”
“Because the wins and losses don’t matter,” Arthur explained. “League standings are based on total points, not on wins and losses. So a team that loses a lot of matches, but still has a great core of Chasers, can stay closer to the top of the rankings if they’re putting in a lot of goals.”
“So how do tournaments work?” asked Daniel. “Or exhibition games like this one?”
“The European and World Cups are round robin,” said Ron. “Two teams with the highest total points advance to the finals. By then, their points are usually close enough where the final match will decide the champion.”
“When we took Harry and Hermione to the Cup in ’94, Ireland and Bulgaria were tied coming into the final,” Arthur continued. “So it was like a different game. But you’ll often see two teams in a final round starting with some sort of advantage before they even release the balls, because one team had X number of points more than the other coming in.”
“They change the rules for single-elimination tournaments and for exhibition,” said Ron. “The Snitch is only worth fifty points tonight, and is worth fifty points in the bracket-based tournaments, too.”
“There are lots of different rules depending on how you’re playing the game,” Harry said to Dudley. “Not everyone has access to a Snitch or Bludgers, so most pickup games are played with just a broom, a Quaffle, and a set time period, like football or basketball.”
Dudley just responded with a blank stare.
“It’s alright,” said Harry. “You’re still new to the sport. Doesn’t matter how much you’re told about it, you just need some in-person experience before it starts to sink in. You’ll get it.” He turned back to the game, where Holyhead was once again in possession of the Quaffle. “Come on, Ginny!”
“And it’s Potter to Pritchard,” Bob the play-by-play announcer continued. “Pritchard with a backwards toss to Bell. Bell almost gets another Bludger by Volkov, but it’s knocked away by Connolly. Bell to Pritchard, Pritchard to Potter who scores!”
“Yeah!” Harry yelled, jumping in the air as Ginny backflipped her broom and pumped her fist to the audience.
“Now, I tell you what, Nick,” said Bob. “Potter’s having one heck of a match tonight.”
“Two goals in two tries for Potter,” Nick replied. “Which could be added to the five goals she scored in the first annual Quaffle for a Cause, which the Vultures won one hundred ninety to one hundred twenty. The Holyhead Harpies announced right before the match that this will be Ginny Potter’s last game with the club. The press release did not go into details, but there is a news conference expected for tomorrow that should hopefully clear up the situation. If it’s true, though, she’s certainly going out on top.”
“Wait, what?” Ron said, turning to Harry. “What are they talking about?”
Harry felt all of the eyes of his friends and family on him, but he wasn’t even looking at them.
“It’s news to me,” he said quietly, staring down at the pitch. “She didn’t tell me anything…”
This was apparently the first time most of the audience had heard the news, too. The roar had dulled considerably, and Harry could hear speculating fans around him.
“Is her contract up?” a wizard asked a few rows behind him.
“Maybe she’s looking to sign with Tutshill,” a witch said in response. “She lived there for a year before she got married. Maybe she’s a closet Tornadoes fan.”
“No way, she’d sign with Chudley,” the wizard responded. “She grew up in Devon, that’s the closest club.”
“I thought she still had a year left on her contract,” a second wizard said. “I couldn’t see them buying her out.”
“A trade, maybe?”
“Kenmare’s losing Leary at the end of the season. They’ll need a new Chaser, and they have some decent witch prospects on their reserve team. I could see Holyhead sending her there.”
“Mullet and Potter on the same line? Bloody hell, they’ll have the League in their grip until Kyle retires.”
“And you didn’t hear anything about this?” Arthur asked Harry.
“Not a thing,” Harry repeated. “Something must have happened before the match.”
Harry was lost in his thoughts. Why hadn’t Ginny said anything to him? Was she just learning about this, too? If so, why wasn’t she acting like anything was wrong? Was there anything wrong? Holyhead was her club, always had been. If she was being traded, or being let go, why would she be playing so well, with so much abandon? Why was she looking like she was having the time of her life if her team was stabbing her in the back?
Harry felt a poke at his shoulder. He looked over to see Dudley staring at him.
“You alright?” Dudley asked. “Ginny just scored two more times, you didn’t even say anything.”
Harry looked up at the scoreboard. Vratsa was up sixty points to fifty.
“Sorry,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I must have been zoning.”
“You’re wife’s mopping the floor with them,” said Dudley. “Just too bad our Beaters aren’t doing anything worth crap.”
Dudley was right. Connolly and Craig were both swinging the bats fine, but the Vultures’ Chasers were just too swift, easily avoiding the Bludgers that were hit toward them. Meanwhile, Volkov and Vulchanov were a well-oiled machine, sweeping both Bell and Pritchard off Rangelov as he tossed the Quaffle past Llewelyn for his third goal of the night.
“Oh, bloody hell!” Ron yelled in frustration as Pritchard and Petrov tied up in the middle of the pitch, each bouncing against the other for possession of the Quaffle after it reached neutral position. “Come on, ref! That’s Cobbing! Foul! Foul!”
“His elbows are fine, Ron,” said Arthur. Mali pulled the Quaffle from Todor’s grip, and took one extra swing for good measure. “That, on the other hand…”
“No foul, no foul!” Ron screamed as Pritchard zoomed down the pitch, leaving Todor with a bleeding lip. “Good job, ref!”
“Quite a double standard, Ron,” Hermione said with some amusement.
“I’m a supporter,” said Ron. “It’s my God-given right to be biased. Come on, Katie!”
Katie Bell caught the pass from Pritchard and zoomed past Rangelov, spinning to avoid a Bludger from her favorite Beater, Assen Volkov. She had a clear shot for the goal, until she had to pull up from a Bludger from Tabitha Connolly flew past her, connecting with Volkov, but also allowing Gatchevski enough time to get in front of her. In frustration, she lobbed a quick pass to Ginny.
It happened quickly. So quickly, in fact, that Ginny barely had time to react, let alone dodge. Volkov connected directly with a Bludger, sending it directly at her at top speed. Knowing that it was going to hit her no matter what, Ginny twisted her body, putting the arm that was cradling the Quaffle directly into the line of fire.
The crack was heard throughout the stadium. Five thousand Quidditch fans gasped in unison.
Ginny Potter slipped from her broomstick and tumbled toward the ground.
“Ginny!” Harry yelled, barely hearing Ron and Molly yelling the same thing. As he pulled his wand from his back pocket and pointed it toward the pitch, Arthur and Hermione’s word of warning barely touched him.
All he knew was that Ginny was falling, lifeless, from sixty feet up.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” he yelled in unison with Ron. Molly cast a Levicorpus to go along with them.
Harry felt himself fly backwards, and his world was bright white.
Four Years Later: Purple Plastic Ninjas / Previous Chapters / Harpy Versus Vulture (2/2)