Chapter - 39 : Track Part - 2

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"You're the Hufflepuff seeker. Fourth year, right?"

"Right."

And that was all it took to open a conversation about quidditch with Cedric Diggory.

At dinner that night everyone was looking at the food a bit nervously when a flurry of owls flew into the Great Hall with the evening edition of the Daily Prophet.

'First-Year Boy Who Lived Holds O.W.L.s Records!'

Harry groaned as the students at the other tables began to whisper and point.

'So much for laying low and pretending to be normal!'

On the day of his first match Harry was so excited that he could barely choke down the piece of toast that Hermione foisted off on him. When he changed he remembered to charm his glasses to stay on his face then put his phoenix feather wand into the pocket of his quidditch robes and zipped the pocket up. With Dark wizards, Dementors, and the spirit of Voldemort on the prowl it was best to always have your wand within reach. Constant vigilance and all that. The only reason the Elder Wand was still in the second drawer of Harry's trunk was because he could not quite shake the feeling that bringing the Elder Wand to a quidditch game at Hogwarts was overkill.

The crowd was excited and happy – not like fifth or sixth year – and the 'Potter for President' banner was just as amazing as the first time he saw it.

Harry was drifting over the game, looking for the snitch, when he spotted a giant black shape crouched under the Gryffindor stands. Harry straightened and drifted a bit closer to the Gryffindor stands. It was a grim! Sirius! Harry grinned widely and his heart began to pound. Sirius Black was alive and well and watching his first game! This was absolutely perfect!

Ten minutes later Flint slammed into Harry to block him from catching the snitch. Over the Gryffindors' shouts, Harry could hear the barks of a dog. Torn between smiling and scowling, Harry made a particular hand gesture at Flint then backed off to go back to searching for the snitch. As the ache in his shoulder faded, Harry thought he saw a flash of gold fluttering a hundred meters below him and slightly to his left.

When he moved to chase it, Harry's broom gave a sudden and alarming wrench under him. He yelped and grabbed onto his broom handle with both hands just as it began to wrench and buck.

"Shit" Harry moaned through his clenched teeth. "How did I forget about this?"

He could see the twins circling below him, their expressions strained and anxious. At least someone planned to catch him if he fell. Why hadn't Hermione knocked over Quirrell yet?

Harry was hanging upside down when a horribly familiar sense of cold began to creep over him, numbing his fingers and tightening his heart in his chest. At the back of his mind he heard the screams of a woman and a voice hissing "Kill the spare."

"Oh no" Harry groaned, even as his grip started to slip. He tried to tighten his grip with his legs and his left hand. With his right hand he scrabbled at the wand in the pocket of his quidditch robes.

A sudden jerk and Harry's left hand lost his grip entirely. Hanging upside down, his blood pounding in his head and his head filling with his worst memories, Harry began to despair.

'What about Voldemort' Harry thought fuzzily 'If I die here, who will kill him?'

Which was a sort of rallying thought since he wanted to fulfill his destiny; mostly so that no one else had to suffer through it. But living long enough to kill someone was no way to live at all.

Under him the broom listed. It was still not under his control but it was no longer actively trying to throw him off either.

Happy thoughts…

'Everyone's alive! I'm friends with Ron and Hermione again! But no one is the same… If I die I've sacrificed everything only to fail everyone at the very beginning!'

Harry used both hands to fumble his wand out of his robes. It was slippery in his grip. It took two hands to hold onto it. Black spots began to eat away at the blurred colors that made up his vision.

'Cedric isn't dead yet. And Sirius is alive and here and counting on me!'

"Expecto Patronum!"

A huge silver stag darted out of Harry's wand tip. Immediately the hopelessness gripping him receded. Harry went limp with relief. Instantly the broom wrenched forwards then backwards and this time Harry slid off of it entirely. Wand clutched in one hand, Harry fell toward the pitch head first and shouting. Something bashed into his face and somehow ended up in his mouth. Whatever it was fluttered against the inside of his cheeks.

Oh God…maybe it would be better if he were unconscious for this… not even a cushioning charm could –

"Urk!"

Something grabbed one ankle and a moment later something grabbed his other one. Harry jerked to an abrupt and painful halt. But he was alive. Wondrously, gloriously alive.

"Alright there Harry?" Fred grunted.

Harry choked on the… whatever was fluttering in his mouth. He suddenly and desperately hoped it was the snitch and not a small bird or a giant bug. Harry carefully spat the small, fluttering object into his empty hand. He curled his fingers around a glint of gold.

"I caught the snitch!"

Both twins laughed their voices tight but cheerful, as they slowly flew their brooms down toward the pitch. Hopefully someone would think to grab his broom. Underneath him Prongs was prancing around the quidditch pitch somehow managing to look fierce and arrogant at the same time. It was probably the way that he tossed his antlers. There was not a single Dementor in sight and Harry's mum was finally quiet.

"Way to keep your mind on the game" George teased.

"Wood'll be pleased that you're as crazy as he is."

"Am not!" Harry protested instinctively.

The twins just laughed at him as they carefully settled him on the pitch then went after his broom. Harry sat up. Across the pitch his patronus ranged outward, forcing the Dementors to clump together as he and a half-dozen other patroni herded them out of the stadium all together. Gone was their usual glide and in its place was a staggering, shuffling retreat.

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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