The Boy Who Lived

Dictatorship and its Downfall

It was no surprise that the Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match was dirty, unaided by the roar of Slytherins singing 'WEASLEY IS OUR KING!'

Harry saw the Golden Snitch before Malfoy and he dived.

In a matter of seconds, Malfoy was streaking out of the sky on Harry's left, a green and silver blur lying flat on his broom.

The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the Slytherin goalhoops and scooted off towards the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Malfoy, who was nearer; Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy were neck and neck...

Feet from the ground, Harry lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching towards the Snitch... to his right, Malfoy's arm extended too, and he was reaching, groping...

It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds - Harry's fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball - Malfoy's fingernails scrabbled the back of Harry's hand hopelessly - Harry pulled his broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval...

When the match was officially called over, Draco landed close by Potter, white-faced with fury, though he was still managing to sneer.

'Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?' he said to Potter. 'I've never seen a worse Keeper... but then he was born in a bin... did you like my lyrics, Potter?'

Afterwards, he tried not to wonder why it was so important to let Potter know he was the one who'd written the song. He tried not to wonder how he let it get so out of hand. It was, he supposed, adrenalin and his own temper, though he knew Potter's temper was straining at the leash these days. Really, he could have left it with Potter holding one of the Weasley twins back as he laughed openly about the state of their home and their blood-traitor parents. But then he had to go and sneer 'Or perhaps you can remember what your real mother's house stank like, Potter, and the Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it...'

He barely had time to consider that Potter had released the Weasley twin (George, as it turned out), and both were bearing down on him. Potter's blow to his stomach floored him, his nose was blooded, possibly broken, and he had a black eye.

Educational Decree No.25 meant that Dolores Umbridge took it upon herself to enact punishment on Potter and the Weasley twins. All of whom were given a life-time ban from Quidditch, even though Fred wasn't involved in the brawl. Draco decided his black eye was worth it. Bastards! He ignored the niggling voice that said he'd provoked the response, he also ignored that the niggling voice said he'd never fly like that against anyone else, ever; that the excitement of the Seekers' flight was limited to the competition between him and Potter. It wasn't the same when he flew against Cho Chang or Andrew Summerby. Still, he justified, the Dark Lord will have probably killed Potter before the year is out, if his plan succeeds, so Potter's life ban wasn't something he needed to concern himself with. He definitely ignored the niggling doubt about the righteousness of Potter's early-demise.

It was just before the Christmas break that Minerva was roused from her sleep in the middle of the night by Neville Longbottom. She hurried to the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her bony nose.

'What is it, Harry? Where does it hurt?'

He looked relieved to see her despite the anxiousness that was apparent on his face.

'It's Ron's dad,' he said, sitting up again. 'He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen.'

'What do you mean, you saw it happen?' she demanded, her dark eyebrows contracting.