CH33

Predictably, the other Gryffindors were not happy about the loss of points. It was so early in the year they hadn't had a lot to begin with, and Harry's misadventure set them back to almost zero. Their irritation with the first year was made painfully clear everyday and with every opportunity.

Things that Harry left out unattended had a tendency to disappear. He had to constantly watch out for feet or objects suddenly appearing to trip him up. McGonagall had taken to informing Harry when the password to the common room changed since the prefects neglected to mention it to him. Unflattering nicknames like 'the Black Cat of Gryffindor' and 'Little Miserable' started finding their way into meal-time conversations and hallway gossip.

There were even rumors going around that his 'Slytherin friends' were somehow paying him to sabotage Gryffindor's chances at the House Cup. Which was a bit conceited, Harry thought, since Gryffindor hadn't won the House Cup in over a decade.

If it weren't for the Weasley twins, who were both well liked and very feared (they were equal opportunity pranksters, but woe to those who earned their vexation), and their obvious fondness towards him, Harry suspected it would have been much worse. At least he received some reprieve with the other Gryffindor quidditch players who seemed to agree with Wood that he had the skills to win their next match and were willing to set aside their misgivings. At least on the field anyway.

Hermione was more stressed than ever about her academics, now frantic to return Gryffindor to the lead. She never directly blamed Harry for the loss of points again, but he couldn't help but feel a flush of guilt any time he missed a single opportunity to regain house points while she worked herself to exhaustion. This was made especially difficult since now McGonagall was strangely frugal with points, Snape was forever a point miser to Gryffindor, Quirrel hadn't bothered with points for over two weeks, and he wasn't particularly strong in any of his other subjects.

Clyde hadn't continued his snappish attitude either, but he was spending more time with his other friends now than with Hermione and him. Harry didn't blame him. Who would give up all their Gryffindor friends- and Clyde had several now that he had apparently given up on 'the Black Cat'just for one particularly difficult one?

Harry dealt with it all as stoically as he could. He kept to himself during classes and meals, studied as much as he could tolerate in his free time with Hermione, and pretended Ronald Weasley didn't exist even when they were sat next to each other in Potions.

Quidditch season couldn't have come soon enough. The weather turned cool and frosty as autumn set in, and morning practice were done in robes charmed against the nipping cold. Harry took to coming to the field early, just so he could be alone, hovering high over the pitch and looking out over the fiery colored forest and golden fields of the Scottish countryside.

The first Saturday of November was just as chilly and beautiful, but Harry did not go out to admire the view. Today was the first match of the season. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. He was up just before dawn to grab some breakfast and then went straight to the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the team arrived soon after. "Alright gentlemen-" Wood began, as they all gathered around him.

A polite cough.

"And ladies," he correct himself, "This is it. First game of the season. I know we haven't had much luck over the years-"

A not so polite snort.

"-but we've got the advantage now. The Slytherins are going to come in cocky and sure, ready to take on Angelina, whose abilities they're already familiar with. They're going to get the shock of their life when they spot Potter instead, and you can bet they're going to under estimate him. Our best chance is to keep them distracted and disoriented until Harry catches the Snitch."

Wood turned to Harry.

"You just concentrate on catching the Snitch, got it Potter? Your only concern is that."

"And not getting knocked off your broom," said one of the Chasers.

"Just the snitch."

"Or smashed into a wall. Those Slytherins are a nasty lot," Angelina pointed out. "SNITCH ONLY!"

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooo

Harry and the other Gryffindors kept their hoods up as they entered the field. Wood was bound and determined to keep their surprise until the last possible moment. Judging by the confused whispering as they marched out, it certainly seemed to be working on the crowd. Everyone had assumed Angelina was going to be Seeker, but even with the hoods up it was apparent that the current Seeker was a little too short.

It wasn't until they were lined up face to face with the Slytherin team that they all finally drew back their hoods. A stunned gasp and intense discussion swept through the crowd. The Slytherins up in the stands were hissing out 'foul' before the game even started. The Gryffindors didn't look much happier, and most seemed convinced the game was already lost. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw looked more intrigued than anything and were eagerly calling for the match to start. Looking directly at the Slytherin Seeker- a fifth year boy who looked better built to be a Beater than a Seeker- Harry couldn't help but notice he didn't look as surprised as Wood had suggested. In fact, the boy was looking down right smug.

It seemed a bad premonition for the match to come.

"Players!" called Professor Gimms, dressed in his referee robes. "Mount your brooms!"

The crowd hushed, understanding that the game was about to start and they could only sit back and watch it unfold. Harry had to consciously force himself not to shoot up the moment his feel began to hover above the ground. He rose slowly and gradually with the other players until they were even with the stands. From here he could look directly into the 'Emperor's box', and see a gathering of some of his least favorite people. Voldemort sat in what could only described as a thrown, flanked on either side by teachers and his personal guest in less obsequious chairs. The Dark Lord looked curious, but not surprised, and perhaps a touched amused. To his right sat Headmistress Lestrange, looking extremely unhappy, and to his left was Professor Snape who looked as smug as his House's Seeker. A bit behind them was McGonagall. She looked worried.

Harry did his damnedest to feel nothing but the unbridled thrill of flying. Somewhere in the crowd were his friends, but he had no time to look for them.

The Snitch had been released, and instead of immediately searching for it, Harry was forced shoot upwards to avoid the Slytherin Seeker as he made a rush for him. Once the boy had passed, he made for the direction he had seen the Snitch go, but again had to drop suddenly and then turn right sharply as two other Slytherin players came at him.

"Foul! Three fouls!" shouted Gimms, "Three penalty shots to Gryffindor!"

"Not half a minutes into the game and three fouls already!" came the voice of the student announcer. "That has to be a record! It looks like it's going to be one intense match today! Captain Oliver Wood has unleashed a secret weapon, a new Seeker who looks to be holding his own. Will the 'Black Cat of Gryffindor' pull through or will bad luck follow him to his team's defeat?" Ferguson, the most experienced of Gryffindor's Chasers, took all three penalty shots with ease but didn't look at all pleased. It was apparent to him and everyone else on the team that their surprise was anything but, and Slytherin had just adopted the strategy they had hoped to use.

Harry didn't linger on the unfairness of it, but took the time to assess everyone's positions and locate the Snitch. The Slytherin team had him surrounded, but hadn't taken into account above or below him which he thought careless of them. Additionally, their Seeker seemed more intent on watching Harry get pummeled by his teammates than actually looking for the Snitch. The Weasley twins seemed to have sorted out a strategy of their own and nodded to Harry when he briefly caught their eye.

The moment all three penalty shots were taken, Gimms blew the whistle to resume the match. The Slytherins descended on Harry like a pack of wolves. But Harry was no deer and he was no boar. His world did not exist on a single plain or on base thought. He dropped quickly, using his descent to quickly gain speed as he passed under a Beater. The opposing players made to chase him, but they were heavier and slower and the Seeker suddenly didn't look so smug.

"And Potter's avoided the Slytherin's tackle- ouch! And Slytherin Chaser Morgenson takes a hit with a Bludger! Stay alert there boys! Potter seems to have spotted the Snitch! Slytherin Seeker Andrew Whitehall is too far behind to catch up! Is this match already coming to an end?!" The Snitch shot down and for the stands, and Harry pursued heedless of the danger. The golden ball sudden leapt away from the wall, angling off and downwards. Coming in too fast to avoid collision with the wall, he turned his broom sharply and turned his body on his side so that he hit the wooden platform with his feet and kicked off back into the field. A Slytherin smashed into the arena wall where Harry had just been and fell off her broom. Stunned, Harry watched as the girl fell to the ground below her.

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