Ripple Effect

Chapter 17

Game On

"Okay, it's official: I am terrified." Harry muttered as he watched the Slytherin team tear through the Gryffindors, blood flying out of the dark-skinned Angelina's mouth following a particularly nasty collision with a bludger that had been smacked into her path by an ugly looking Slytherin beater. "Because this looked so much less painful from a distance."

"You'll be playing Seeker right? So you won't be so close to all… that." Sally pointed out, though it was obvious from how her voice shook that she was mostly trying to help calm him down.

It was the second Saturday in the chilly month of November and Quidditch season was officially underway with a double header: the current match between Gryffindor and Slytherin and, if that match didn't go on for too long, then the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw match would begin.

The Gryffindor-Slytherin match -which would have been held the week prior but was postponed as a result of the events of the Halloween Feast- had quickly devolved into a riot for the Snakes who were running roughshod over their Red-and-Gold clad opponents.

Literally.

It was clear to everyone watching that the Snakes' gameplan revolved around completely shutting down the Gryffindor Chasers with an exacting sort of viciousness that left many a First Year shuddering.

Praise had to be given to the Golden Lions, though, who more than fought to keep themselves in the match: the Beater duo of Fred and George Weasley were a whirlwind of action as they put in their absolute best to keep the Bludgers away from their team and trained onto their opponents; the trio of Chasers -Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet- were little more than blurs as they flew about the field, crisscrossing as they made passes and took incredibly accurate shots from impossibly tight angles. And then there was Wood; the Gryffindor Keeper had kept up an acrobatic display over the two hours of play to keep the vast majority of Slytherin shots outside his goal. Without Oliver's presence, Harry was dead certain that the hundred and ten to sixty point game in favor of the Lions would have been a triple digit score to the Snakes.

Yet the tension in the air couldn't possibly have been higher.

While it was true that the Lions were widening their lead, the Snakes' Seeker, Terence Higgs had come far closer to catching the Snitch than the Lions' -on three separate occasions, the older boy had missed by mere millimeters.

A fifty point lead meant nothing when the Snitch was still in play and everyone knew it.

And so, while the Gryffindors cheered wildly at their success and the Slytherins grumbled at the scoreboard, every student knew that things could be reversed in an instant.

Harry's keen eyes were among the first to notice it but within moments, the entire field was silent save the grunts of players and the cracks of Bludgers on bats.

Far above the field, Higgs had angled his broom to the ground and was falling fast, almost leaving a contrail of wind in his wake. No one could see what he was chasing but, when the Gryffindor Seeker started chasing after him, everyone suspected that the dark haired boy had located the Snitch and was in a desperate hurtle to nab it.

"That's not right…" Harry murmured to himself as he scanned the area Higgs seemed desperate to get to. "There's nothing there…"

It was an easy to search area: being one of the sections between two stands meant that the area was relatively dark and something like the Snitch would definitely have stood out.

"Then again, there are a number of House banner strung up in there. Maybe the Snitch is hiding behind one of them…?"

Suddenly, not six feet away from the target area, Higgs swung his broom around in a sharp, ninety degree turn that nearly flung him off his own broom. He somehow managed to hold on, though, and shot forward in a blur of speed into the support beams beneath the Staff stand, swerving and swaying around beams of wood that would have splattered him like a bug were he to collide into any of them. Just as everyone's attention began to shift back to the main game, however, he reached out and snatched a tiny, almost invisible golden speck that was hiding within the shadow of a support beam.

"I've got it!" He roared as he tore out from beneath the support beams like a bat out of hell, a furiously flapping Snitch caged in his fist.

He had caught the Snitch, earning a hundred and fifty points for his team and bringing the game to a close at a hundred and ten to two hundred and ten points.

The poor Gryffindor Seeker was finally able to untangle himself from the banners he had been caught up in to hear the painful news: Slytherin had won.

‹‹‡››

"What Higgs did up there was a textbook example of a Voyant Feint, a trick first performed by the Cannons' legendary Seeker, Claire Voyant*." Cilla stated as she snapped on his cuirass before grabbing his team robes. "He drew everyone's attention to a single spot and made us all think that the Snitch was right where he was gunning for while he kept his eye on the prize. The moment he saw that he had Anders committed, he swerved at the last second to chase the Snitch."

"He got lucky." Genevieve snorted as she tied on her greaves. "The Lions chose Anders out of desperation; they haven't had a decent Seeker in years. No experienced Seeker would have chased Higgs down so earnestly without making damned sure the Snitch was in sight."

"Voyant pulled it off six times in the League and twice in the World Cup Finals." Markus fired back. "No experienced Seeker my arse."

"All right, all right, pipe down you lot." Johnathon stated as he walked up to stand in their midst. It had taken himself and his tactical team days to decide the starting squad for the day but now, staring at them, he was certain that they couldn't have picked a better squad to kick things off. "I want you all to know that, regardless of whatever happens out there, I'm damned proud of the team I've got before me. So, let's go out there and show them who we are!"

Multiple cries of 'hell yeah' and 'damned straight' rang out as the team headed out to the field and, for those moments, Harry felt nothing but pure excitement.

All that excitement vanished like a mist in the daytime when they stood by their brooms before Madame Hooch, the hollers and screams of the student body cheering -or booing- them on. He had avoided the rumor mill thanks to the Badgers' incredible loyalty keeping his position on the team a secret but now he could see the surprise shining from just about every student's face as Lee Jordan rattled out the names of the players on each team.

"Don't think too much about it, Har." Cilla whispered from his left side, the blond chaser one of three rookies to have been chosen to start the day. "You just pull off one of those amazing catches of yours and we're sure to win."

To his left, Johnathon -one half of the squad's Beaters- hummed his agreement as Madame Hooch rounded up her warnings and asked them to get on their brooms.

Harry glanced around at the squad: Genevieve, Cedric and Cilla the Chasers, Johnathon and Otis were the Beaters and Lagertha was the Keeper. He had practiced with each and every one of them and they had all encouraged him through it all.

It was time to show them that they could count on him.

So, with a swift move, he climbed onto his school-issued Cleansweep and shot skyward, ready to play.

Across from him, he saw the smirking features of an older Ravenclaw, probably a Third Year by her looks, as she confidently pulled off a few fancy moves.

Harry ignored her and kept his focus on the field as Madame Hooch released the Snitch. He watched it buzz around erratically before zipping off in a random direction and vanishing.

The blast of the whistle was shrill and Harry wasted no time to swiftly double his height above the field so that when he looked down, he was granted a clear view of the entire playing field.

Twelve feet to his right and three feet higher, the Ravenclaw Seeker hovered, poised like a bird of prey waiting to strike.

The Game was on.

‹‹‡››

Unlike the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match was less brutal: the fliers on both teams were more technical and their plays were more tactical than the previous match and the resulting game was much more of a spectacle.

The Ravenclaw team employed a host of incredible strategies as was expected, playing a very fast paced, fluid game that involved lots of passes. The Badgers, however, had the better individual fliers and they took full advantage of that, make stunning interceptions and mounting blistering counterattacks.

Up front, the duo of Genevieve and Cedric were backed up by the brilliant defensive efforts of Otis to wreak havoc on the goal. Cilla was an absolute beast on her broom from her position playing deep in her own side of the field and making most of the interceptions for the Badgers while the defensive strength of Johnathon hounded the beleaguered Ravenclaw Chasers. And, the times the brilliant plays of the Ravenclaw team got through the Badgers, Lagertha's hands remained sure, keeping a number of shots from getting in.

It was a fast and furious game that flowed from end to end with no discernible pattern.

All through that time, the Seekers remained vigilant, their eyes hunting for the Snitch.

In the second hour, the game became even more heated as Cilla was taken off for Markus while the Ravens made two changes of their own to their Chaser trio.

Where Cilla helped the Badgers with their flowing counterattacking style, the introduction of Markus shook things up. Now the Badgers were playing with all three Chasers up front while Otis joined Johnathon to shore up the defenses. The increased offensive play put the Ravens on the back foot for a while but then cracks in the Badgers' plays began to show and the Ravens took merciless advantage.

Then, Harry dropped out of the air like a stone, his form screaming through the air as he went only for him to catch a loose Quaffle and sling it into the furthest hoop from an unsuspecting Ravenclaw Keeper.

The crowd went wild.

A hundred and sixty to Hufflepuff; a hundred forty to the Ravens.

Higher up, the Ravenclaw Seeker sniffed at the stupid move.

Twice more in the third hour did Harry perform such stunts, diving out of the sky to either score a goal or assist one.

By the time the fourth hour of play rolled by, the scores were level at two-eighty apiece and both teams had made a total of five substitutions.

Cilla was now on the offensive, alongside Markus and a senior player while Lagertha, Cedric and Otis had all been replaced.

The game was frenzied.

Harry dropped out of the sky again, darting toward his team's Chasers who were now mounting an attack… only to fall past them and keep going, aiming right for the ground before veering away at the last second, his outstretched hand reaching for something only he could see.

It was too late for the Ravenclaw Seeker who only then realized that the First Year had gone Snitch-hunting.

Harry's hand closed around the Snitch a few seconds before the chase would have led to him smearing himself on one of the support beams. He was just about to yell in victory when his broom jerked violently to the left, nearly plastering him onto the beam he had just swerved around. He was about to wonder what had happened when the broom jerked violently again.

And again.

And again.

Over and over the broom jerked about violently while overhead, the roars of the crowd drowning out whatever panicked yelps he might have let out.

Thrice the broom tried to ram him headlong into a support beam -he narrowly avoided those by wresting control from the deranged broom at the last second- and twice it smashed him into beams on flyby runs.

It took everything he had to maintain a tight grip on the Snitch and not let go as he navigated the shadowy areas beneath the stands before finally bursting out beneath the still-busy field of players.

"Oh bollocks!" He shouted as the broom shot upward, headed straight toward an unsuspecting Cilla. Now, more than before, he could feel the broom fighting him, bucking like a wild bull and he knew that he would not be able to gain control in time to avoid a crash.

So he tensed his muscles and, a few moments before the impact, he pushed off his broom and latched onto Cilla's with one arm, the sudden motion jerking her broom aside just so that the crazed broom went flying mere inches past.

"What the devil- Harry?!"

The battered boy smiled bleakly at her from where he hung. "Little help please?"

The game came to a halt as the other players quickly noted what was going on in the center of the field and Johnathon was quick to help Harry onto Cilla's broom where the raven haired First Year clung to the body of his older teammate with one arm. The other he shifted painfully to show Johnathon what he held within.

The Golden Snitch.

"You did it." The Sixth Year Captain whispered in shock as he took in the sight of the now-unmoving form of the Snitch, resting in the battered form of his First Year teammate. "Son of a bitch, Harry! You did it!"

"He got the Snitch?" Cilla yelled in excitement as the rest of the team closed in. When Johnathon picked the tiny golden ball and showed it to her, she all but screamed ecstatically, restraining herself at the last moment when she recalled the bruised form of the First Year behind her. "Harry! You did it!"

"Yay me." The raven haired boy groaned, his arm and head throbbing in pain as Madame Hooch blew on her whistle, signifying the end of the match. The announcement by Lee had just hit the crowd if the cacophony coming from the stands were any indication. "Now can you get me to Madame Pomfrey please? I'm pretty sure I just ripped my arm out of its socket."

"I'll get right on it!" Cilla assured him, turning to fly toward the medical stand and doing her best not to jostle him around too much. "Just hang in there Harry."

The rest of the team had joined her as they flew back, forming a sort of honor guard around their injured teammate and they were a few yards away from their destination when a shrill scream from the crowd drew everyone's attention.

The broom was back and it was right in the middle of a suicide dive aimed at spearing through Harry.

"Cilla! Move!"

Johnathon's urgent cry came just a few seconds too late: it was obvious to each of them that they would never make it out of there quickly enough.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Harry watched the sporting implement-turned-instrument of death tearing toward him.

Then, a flash of pain came from his scar, accompanied by a surge of emotions he couldn't make any sense of.

A silvery bolt of power flashed past him and struck the death-broom head on, turning into so much kindling in a burst of magic.

The danger wasn't over, though, as the pressure released from the detonation threw the broom off course.

Harry, who had only held on to Cilla with his good arm, was violently thrown off the broom and the last thing he saw before blacking out was the unforgiving form of a support beam.

On the positive side of things, he was out cold before his brain had time to register the pain of the impact.

‹‹‡››

For the second time in less than a month, Harry woke up in the Hogwarts Infirmary.

It was dark outside, he noted as he sat up and reached out to search the bedside table for his glasses. For a few moments, Harry wondered if the events of the Quidditch match weren't simply conjurations from his fevered mind.

Perhaps he hadn't actually woken up and he was only now returning to consciousness?

"Twice in less than a month, Mister Potter." Madame Pomfrey's voice called out as she walked over to his bedside, accompanied by Professor Quirrell. "You had better not be building up toward a trend."

"I thi-think what Mad- Madame P-p-pomfrey's tr-trying to s-say is that we're gla-glad t-to have you b-ba-back wi-with us, Mis-Mister P-Potter." Quirrell spoke, his stutter doing little to detract from the obvious relief to be heard in his tone. "H-how are you f-feeling?"

Now thoroughly disabused of the possibility that he had dreamed the Quidditch match up, Harry swung his legs out of the bed and stretched his arms, twisting and turning to see if he could find any lingering pains. "I'm fine, Professor. Madame Pomfrey's got me fit as a fiddle."

"Let's see if you'll stay that way much longer this time." The medi-witch sniffed in a faux-snooty tone before winking at Harry and walking away.

"I'm guessing I can leave now, Professor?"

"J-just one th-thing, H-Harry." Quirrell said. "I-I've b-been running an in-internal investig-gation on be-behalf of the Headmaster to fi-find out what h-ha-happened d-during the match. As of now, I've g-got accounts from e-every pl-player on the p-pi-pitch this afternoon, your friends S-sally and H-Hermione and Ma-Mad-Madame Hooch."

"So you need one from me, Professor?"

"Ma-maybe not right n-now." Quirrell amended. "I un-understand that you m-mi-might be quite eager to s-see your f-friends, aft-after all. How d-does tomorrow evening s-sound? S-say, after d-dinner?"

"Sure thing, Professor. I don't think we'll be having any training sessions but I'll clear it up with Jon either way." Harry hesitated, wondering whether or not to ask what he was about to before deciding to ask anyhow. "Professor… do you know what happened out there today? With my broom, I mean?"

Quirrell sighed. "I was h-hoping you w-wouldn't ask that. A b-bi-bit f-far-fetched, I know b-but I still h-held the t-torch on you n-no-not asking."

"So you know what happened?"

"S-someone cursed your b-broom."

Harry's jaw hung open in disbelief. Curses were easily the most destructive forms of spell-craft* in the magical world and their effects were limited only by their creator's intellect and imagination. Students didn't even get to practice curses until their Third Year and even then they started off with the absolute lowest tiers. "A curse? Why would anyone want to place a curse on me?"

"T-that's what I h-hope to find out."

‹‹‡››

*- Curses are the most dangerous forms of spell-craft. There is a reason why the Unforgivables are all curses after all. However, that doesn't make them the most dangerous form of MAGIC. Spell-craft in my opinion, refers to the forms of magic reliant on the use of verbal intonation (they can be cast non-verbally but were designed with specific chants). Spell-craft basically includes all charms, jinxes, hexes, curses and incantations.

Alright ladies and gentlemen. The Quidditch match has arrived!

I hope I did justice to it (though I think I did a pretty swell job of it).

So, we're turning up the heat now with the first direct attempt on Harry's life and (because things are so vastly different) we've got no clue who did the dirty deed!

Was it Snape?

Was it Quirrell?

Maybe it was even Dumbledore?

Well, that's one mystery that'll be a while to solve.

Hope you liked it.

Please Review

The Ethereal Lord

*- If you can tell me who I'm referring to, I'll answer any question of yours (onlyif you have a profile. Can't afford to spoil anything in here ^-^)