Brighter Than the Sun

Chapter Seventeen

The Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. I smiled as I saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding too. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as we passed. Malfoy looked even paler than usual.

Wood spent the whole of breakfast urging us to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried us off to the field before anyone else had finished, so we could get an idea of the conditions. As we left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.

"Good luck, Harry!" called Cho. Harry blushed. I nudged him and wiggled my eyebrows, earning a playful jab to the ribs.

"Shut up," He muttered, blushing even harder.

"I didn't say anything," I said innocently, then to the team: "Does everyone remember the fight song?" I'd written it a few days ago to build up the team's confidence. We planned to sing it before we stepped out on to the pitch. Every gave some form of assent.

"Okay," Oliver said when we got to the pitch. "No wind to speak of — sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for it— ground's fairly hard, good, that'll give us a fast kickoff —"

Wood paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, we saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilling onto the lawn.

"Locker rooms," said Wood tersely.

Nobody spoke as we changed into their scarlet robes. I felt as though I'd eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Wood was saying, "Okay, it's time, let's go —"

"Wait," I said. They all stopped, confused. "Listen. Three... two... one..."

There was the sound of a brass band playing. It was our fight song, being played by the Gryffindors in the Frog Choir. Fred and George grinned and we all started singing, some of us not very tunefully:

"Cheer, cheer, for our red and gold,

We're the House of the brave and the bold,

Gryffindor will never say die,

Just shake down the thunder from the sky,

Whether we win or whether we lose,

Gryffindor house will not have the blues,

While our brilliant quidditch team goes charging to victory,

Charging to victory!"

As we shouted, "Go, go, Gryffindor," we walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP." Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. "Potter, McKeon, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years —" Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of 'boos' from the Slytherin end. "And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill —"

More boos from the Slytherin crowd, but I thought Lee had a point. Malfoy was easily the smallest person On the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous.

"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch. Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers. Was it possible to get a foul before the game even started?