A Different Story

Chapter 23

19h Of September, 1992

On Saturday morning, Harry was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"What's the matter?" said Harry groggily.  "Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"

"Come on, grab your broom, and let’s go," said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we’re going to be first off the mark this year."

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.

**********

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field with broomsticks in their hands. "I don’t believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We’ll see about that!"

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was larger than Wood. He looked like a troll, and he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood." Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape." 

Wood took the note and started reading aloud "I, Professor Severus Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker."

"You’ve got a new Seeker?" Wood asked. "Who?" And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?" said Fred Weasley, looking at Malfoy with dislike

"Funny you should mention Draco’s father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors’ noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month,” said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. “I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives
"sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion." Damian and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on. "What’s happening?" Damian asked Harry. "Why aren’t you playing? And what’s he doing here?" He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Potter," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought for our team." Damian looked at the brooms. "Good, aren’t they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get some new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter. "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent." The smug look on Malfoy’s face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George from jumping on him. Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!", and Arcturus plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint’s arm at Malfoy’s face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium, and a jet of green light shot out of the end of Arcturus's wand, hitting Malfoy in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

The Slytherin team went and picked Malfoy up, and when he was standing, Harry saw that his eyes were full of tears. He was crying, and he ran away inside the castle, crying and screaming that his father will hear about this.

After this whole fight was over, they all walked back to the Quidditch pitch and practiced.