𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟐 - 𝟓

The Quidditch match had begun. I was still sitting in the Gryffindor stands, but as far away as possible from Hermione and Weasley. All of our unkind attitudes to each other had not changed over the past couple of days. 

It was Gryffindor against Slytherin, meaning I couldn't sit with Draco's friends even if I wanted to. After getting much closer to them, I decided they weren't that bad if they liked you. If you were on the other side, like Potter, they were not gracious. 

So far we were loosing, 80 to 30. Nothing much was happening besides the Quaffle being thrown back and forth between all six chasers on the field. I never understood the obsession over Quidditch. It was quite boring, actually, if no serious injuries were obtained.

I admittedly was only watching Potter, my gaze only occasionally leaving him. I convinced myself that it was only because I was shooting as many daggers at his back as possible, and maybe he would feel them. I had no such luck.

One Slytherin chaser pushed our Keeper out of the way, and another Slytherin scored through the completely open hoop. The crowd of green roared.

"Another goal for Slytherin," Lee Jordan, the commenter, shouted moodily over the crowd. 

"They lead Gryffindor 90 to 30."

The Slytherins moved into a formation much like the V birds flew in when they were migrating. Then they broke apart, shooting in all different directions and confusing the Gryffindors.

Draco jerked his broom next to Potter's and yelled something. Potter's face hardened, and he turned away. Ignoring Draco, just like he had been ignoring me. In fact, he was focusing so hard on ignoring Draco that a Bludger almost took his head off, swooping up from below him.

Wood, the Gryffindor team captain, pulled out in front of Potter, making sure he was okay. But the Bludger was relentless, and flew back to Potter's face, not taking care to swerve around Wood's broom first. 

Him and his broom both went tumbling to the ground. I winced. This was not looking good for us. 

Twisting back in a perfect loop, the Bludger again only missed Potter's head by inches. He flew in the opposite direction, trying to get as far away from the ball as possible. It only tailed him faster.

I heard Hagrid's booming voice to my right. "Blimey! Harry's got himself a rouge Bludger! That's been tampered with, that has."

But that was impossible, and completely against the rules.

Meanwhile, Potter was flipping and feinting, and the ball was crashing through the support beams of the stands. More people were starting to notice the slight issue that had been opposed on the Gryffindor Seeker. 

Draco stopped in front of him, cutting off his path. Again, he yelled something, and again, Potter's face twisted into anger. But then I saw it. Something gold, glinting next to Draco's ear. Potter seemed to notice it as well, because he dove for my brother.

Evidently thinking he was attacking him, Draco yanked his handle out of the way in surprise. Potter chased after the little golden ball. 

Draco hastily flew next to Potter, his Nimbus 2001 going far faster than I had initially expected. He slammed into Potter's side and continued to accelerate.

What a sight it was, Potter and Draco disappearing and reappearing from in between the beams of the stands, both following the Snitch, with the hexed Bludger trying to smash both their skulls. Some type of fatal injury was bound to happen soon. My bet was on Potter.

The next time they appeared, Potter was still after the Snitch. Draco, however, was hurtling through the air, his broom no longer under him. He landed on the ground with a thud, immediately flopping onto his back, holding his stomach and coughing.