Bab 79: Chapter 79
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Chapter 54- The Quidditch Match.
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Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy. The Firebolt is the fastest broom to ever be made. He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly.
After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much. This would probably be the most challenging match they will ever have had. And not only because of the brooms, but because of Professor Lockhart's lessons. Every single student in this school was at the height of their physical ability, which would make the upcoming match the most difficult they had ever had. And since they were against the Slytherins, the most brutal match.
As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry good luck as he entered the locker rooms. The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.
"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have. We have been flying in all weathers." Wood began his speech, capturing everyone's attention."Too true, I haven't been properly dry since August"" muttered George Weasley.
Ignoring him, Wood continued. "And we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team." Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry, grabbing him by the shoulders. "It'll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today. We've got to." Harry manages to nod his head as Wood shakes him. "So no pressure, Harry," said Fred, winking at him.
As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them, mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.
"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three... two... one..." With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch. "All right there, Scarhead?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom. Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.
"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again.
Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head. Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this. It was a Bludgers job to try and unseat as many people as possible.
Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might. The Bludger was knocked off course. "Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong. As though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more, and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed. It had started to rain, and Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses.
He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, one hundred points to zero." The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile, the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.
"Someone's tampered with this Bludger!" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry. "We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time. Wood had obviously got the message as Madam Hooch's whistle rang out, and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.
"What's going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina from scoring?" Wood questioned since George and Fred had been busy keeping Harry unharmed.
"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone's messed with it. It won't leave Harry alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it." Fred explained, angry. The Slytherins were one hundred points up, and they were at zero because they had to keep Harry from getting hit.
"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then..." said Wood anxiously. Madam Hooch was walking toward them. Over her shoulder, Harry could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction. "Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around me all the time, the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team, and let me deal with the rogue one."
"Don't be thick," said Fred. "It'll take your head off." Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys. "Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia Spinner angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry." Arguably, it is the most sensible and rational thing they could do now, but since when have Gryfindors been anything close to sensible.
"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry. "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!" Harry couldn't lose to Malfoy; he would never live it down. He could see it now, every day for the rest of the year, Malfoy holding it over his head.
"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood. "Get the Snitch or die trying. What a stupid thing to tell him." Unfortunately, there wasn't any more time as Madam Hooch had joined them. "Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood. Wood looked at the determined look on Harry's face.
"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Harry. Leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own." The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed. He looped and swooped, spiralled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open. Rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger.
He could hear laughter from the crowd. He knew he must look foolish, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as Harry could. He began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood A whistling in Harry's ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again. He turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.
"Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him. And then, glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, he saw it. The Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear, and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it.
For an agonising moment, Harry hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch. WHOOSH. He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had come back and fast. It was only Harry's reflexes that allowed him to move and survive by less than an inch. Harry moved quickly through a haze of rain as he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear. Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him.
"What the-?" Malfoy gasped, careening out of Harry's way. However, being quick on the uptake, he spotted what Harry's real target was and quickly chased him. Thanks to the Firebolt he rode, Malfoy caught up and was neck and neck as they vied for the Golden Snitch. Harry clung to his broom, going as fast as possible as they both chased after the Snitch. Their brooms bumped against one another, their legs smashing against each other as they rushed for the win.
Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch. At the same time, Malfoy also reached out, and both of their limbs tangled. He felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd, and then, the Bludger hit him at last, smashed into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling uselessly at his side. He felt Malfoy come with him, their arms still caught. And then the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at his face.
Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get off the field. And so he directed his broom down, and he idly felt Malfoy scream at his side as they headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out. With a splattering thud, he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle. Riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.
"Aha," he said vaguely. "We've won." And he fainted.
He came around, rain falling on his face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth. "Oh, no, not you," he moaned.
"Well, that really hurts my feelings, Harry." Lockhart whispered to Harry before addressing the surrounding crowd, "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm." Said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them.
"No!" said Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks..." He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby. "I don't want a photo of this, Colin," he said loudly.
"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times-" But Harry doesn't let him finish, sure that Lockhart will do something wrong.
Harry writhed. "Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth.
"He should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say." Though Wood said that, his face was grimacing. Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Fred and George Weasley wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight.
"Now don't move, Harry, or there will be consequences," said Lockhart loudly for everyone to hear before rolling up his jade-green sleeves. "No, don't!" said Harry weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry's arm. Harry, reacting impulsively, tried to slap the want away, but that just interfered with the spell.
A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry's shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn't dare look at what was happening. He had shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but his worst fears were realised as the people above him gasped, and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. His arm didn't hurt anymore, but nor did it feel remotely like an arm.
"Why did you do that, Harry?" said Lockhart. "If you hadn't hit my wand, your bones would have mended. But now... well, the bones are no longer broken because they are not there anymore. Now you are going to need some Skele-Gro to fix that arm, Harry. So toddle up to the hospital wing- ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? -and Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix you right up." Lockhart sighed.
As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again. Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-coloured rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers, but nothing happened. Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones. He had removed them.
And then, as if the universe was mocking him, Lockhart moved his attention to Malfoy. Harry hadn't even realised that the other boy was next to him and just as injured. And then, Lockhart kneeled next to him and used a spell to make sure Malfoy wouldn't move, and then he was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Malfoy's arm. And it healed. Malfoy was up in seconds, happy to be okay. Harry wasn't pleased.
Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased. "You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. "I can mend bones in a second, but growing them back-" Madam Pomfrey trailed off there, worrying Harry.
"You will be able to, won't you?" said Harry desperately. "I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pyjamas. "You'll have to stay the night." Hermione waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry's bed while Ron helped him into his pyjamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.
"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as he pulled Harry's limp fingers through the cuff. "If Harry had wanted deboning, he would have asked," Ron said angrily, having to have suffered and seen things when dressing Harry that he didn't want to see.
"It wasn't Professor Lockhart's fault. He did the same thing to Malfoy, and he is fine. You shouldn't have moved, and your arm would have been mended," said Hermione. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Harry?" She adds on, feeling she was a bit harsh.
"No," said Harry, getting into bed. "But it doesn't do anything else either." As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly. Hermione and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labelled Skele-Gro, the same thing Lockhart had mentioned.
"You're in for a rough night," she said, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business." So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned Harry's mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Ron and Hermione to help Harry gulp down some water.
"We didn't even win," said Ron morosely, making Harry look up in shock. "That was some catch you made. Malfoy's face looked ready to kill afterwards, but it didn't matter. Slytherin was up a hundred eighty to twenty." Harry understood, they had lost by ten points. The firebolts had brought the Slytherins victory, and they didn't even have to catch the Snitch.
"I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," said Hermione darkly. "We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion," said Harry, sinking back onto his pillows. "I hope it tastes better than this stuff." Harry tried not to think about the defeat and looked forward to the next thing.
"If it's got bits of Slytherins in it? You've got to be joking," said Ron. The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry. "Unbelievable flying, Harry," said George. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy." They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice. Clearly, they were trying to cheer him up, knowing how down he must be feeling.
They gathered around Harry's bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "This boy needs rest. He's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!" And Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm.
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