moon-struck....harry james potter

3.9| the quidditch cup

3.9| the quidditch cup

"This is it" Oliver said, pacing back and forth in the locker rooms. "This is it!" Everyone was excited and nervous for the last match of the season—Gryffindor Vs Slytherin. Even the most of The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were supporting Gryffindor, maybe even some Slytherins (like Cepheus).

"We're gonna go out and win that cup!" Alex said, full of determination, adrenaline was rushing through her veins. They 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, Black, Johnson, Bell, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years"

"Captains, shake hands!” said Madam Hooch. Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other’s hand very tightly; it looked asthough each was trying to break the other’s fingers. “Mount your brooms!” said Madam Hooch. “Three… two… one…” Alex kicked off into the air, immediately getting a hold of the quaffle.

“And it’s Gryffindor in possession, Alexandria Black with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alex! Argh, no— Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing UP the field— WHAM!— nice Bludger work
there by George Weasley—SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!” the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight. "COME ON ALEX—" Lee screamed as Alex dodged another bludger. “YES! SHE’S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

“’Course, Wood’s a superb Keeper!” Lee Jordan told the crowd, as Flint tried to score. “Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON’T
BELIEVE IT! HE’S SAVED IT!”

“Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! Gryffindor back in possession and it’s Angelina Johnson, Angelina Johnson for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she’s streaking up the field— THAT WAS DELIBERATE!” Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Angelina, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Angelina cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle, Alex caught it before the Slytherin player could and zoomed towards the goal post. Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him, just as Alex scored another goal. “THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING AS—”

“Jordan, if you can’t commentate in an unbiased way—”

"I’m telling it like it is, Professor!”

Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

“Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won’t happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession—” It was turning into the dirtiest game Alex had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Katie with his club and tried to say he’d thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

Alex scored. Fifty-ten. Fred and George Weasley were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred’s and George’s absence to aim both Bludgers at Oliver; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded. Madam Hooch was beside herself— “YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!” she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. “Gryffindor penalty!”