Content Harry Potter
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Chapter 23: Gryffindor v. Ravenclaw

Thank you to my Beta’s Donalddeutsch, Cateagle and Sparky40sw.


A beautiful tawny owl winged its way from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry clutching a small package that promised the owner of the owl bountiful rewards for their effort.   The destination of the soaring predator was Greater London.   The specifics of its destination would not have made Harry Potter happy and perhaps it was best that he had no idea of the owl, its destination, or even the existence of the package.


The bludgers and snitch were released after Madame Hooch finished her speech to the captains of the participating teams.   She had little worry as the two teams had a good history of fair play.   The quaffel was released and the game started.

Harry circled the pitch, his eyes in constant motion, inquiring after his prey.

After five minutes of searching he realized that he had acquired a shadow.   Cho Chang was using the reactive method of seeking.   She seemed to intend to follow Harry and then rob him of the snitch when he saw it.

This was a tactic that annoyed Harry in most circumstances.   The only time that he liked the other seeker to play ‘follow the leader’ was when Harry needed to stall the completion of the game, to build up a greater margin of victory and thus leave them on better footing in the tournament.   This wasn’t the plan for the day, and Harry was duly glad of that, so Harry was currently getting annoyed.   He wanted to catch the snitch without someone on his tail twigs the entire time.

He had a plan.

He angled his broom down and waited for Cho to follow him on his course, descending the whole time.   After she was well into it with him, he angled back to level flight, only not quite.   He angled his broom to increase in altitude slowly.   Hoping that his opponent would follow his lead to the tee, he slowly drifted up.

With each lap he gained some altitude and it was not long before he cruised well above his normal height.   He now looked down on all of the action as if in a blimp over a ballgame.

The game of Quidditch was normally played at the happy height of fifty feet in the air, as that’s the height of the goal posts.   Harry and most seekers usually circled at around sixty feet in order to be just slightly out of the action.   Harry had drifted to the height of one hundred and fifty feet and his fellow seeker was marking him so well that she seemed to not even realize that she was so high above the action.

Suddenly, Harry’s searching eyes locked on the center of the pitch.   Harry pulled his broom to the side and pitched the nose straight at the ground and pushed it forward for speed.   He didn’t need to look back to know that Cho was racing him for the snitch.   She took straight after him and slowly gained on the diving figure.

Harry kept from pouring his everything into the broom’s speed.   He maneuvered to the left; following his script.   He jinked right as if the snitch had darted a few feet.   As the imaginary snitch maneuvered again, Harry pushed his broom into a straight vertical path straight at the ground.   Cho was still on his tail.

Harry gripped both hands on his broom as he judged the last second and pulled with all of his might, as it seemed that you could count the blades of grass.

He heard the audience gasp as he pulled out of the dive with inches to spare.   The gasp told him of a stunning success of his Wronski Feint.   He looked back to see that the length of Cho’s broom had impacted the ground, leaving the young woman gasping for breath sprawled on the ground, but relatively unhurt.


Ginny Weasley was having the time of her life.   She had been riding her new broom, The Banshee, in all of their practices, but nothing could compare to the competitive spirit of a full game.

She grabbed the quaffle from mid air as if it were standing still.   She yanked the handle of her broom into a quick climbing u-turn to reverse her direction.   This, unfortunately, brought her straight on into the path of the opposing chaser that had been following her, desperately.   With quick thinking, she dove straight at the ground, just as Harry had taught her at the Burrow.   She avoided the collision, leveled off and then contemplated the best tactic to gaining a goal.


Harry spent the free time while Cho was recovering searching for the snitch.   He scanned the entire pitch from his high vantage, from one goal to the other.   He was casting casual glances at Cho, both to see that she was safely recovering and to gauge when she would be joining him.

He noticed that she was sitting up now and had regained her feet with the help of Madame Pomfrey.   If Harry knew the mediwitch, she would now be trying to convince Cho that she needed to spend the night in the hospital wing starting post-haste.

Harry saw the snitch very high, directly over the center of the pitch.   Harry sped forward then rocketed straight into a vertical climb.   He glanced back to see Cho on her broom and starting her pursuit.   This didn’t worry him in the slightest.   What did catch his attention was the bludger that was aimed to intercept him in seconds.

Harry did a barrel roll, clutching his broom tightly, but he could still feel the bludger skim his lower back as it sped past.

Harry continued to climb full speed at the Golden Snitch, which was lazily making circles at nearly three hundred feet.

Harry shot his left arm out and reached for the elusive magic ball and wrapped his gloved fingers around it, fluttering wings and all.

Harry tipped over backwards and rolled to his right to begin his descent, victory clutched in his hand.

Harry barely saw the bludger before it caught him at the apex of his arch, one hand on the broom and his legs in racing stance.

In retrospect, if he had his legs in a stronger flying stance, he may have been able to keep a hold of his broom.   However, as he was already pulling his broom over in a tight arch, as soon as his hand was knocked free, his entire body followed suit.


Ginny was still coming down from her high of a successful goal when she saw a crimson streak chasing something small and…golden!   The streak, which could only be Harry, shot straight up in a fast climb.   She held her breath as he neared his objective, her game forgotten.


As the Quidditch game at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was concluded in accordance with the rules, the previously mentioned Tawny owl landed at the offices of Witch Weekly with a package that would surely not make the subject of the enclosed photos happy.


It had been an exciting game.   The Gryffindor chasers were well matched against the Ravenclaws, the score reflecting the tightly fought battle.   Each keeper was keeping more than half of the constant and strategic assaults from success.   Neither team’s chasers were going in for the straightforward, simple approach of just one chaser against one keeper; they were calling plays and flying formations.

Even with admirable play by the keepers, the score was sixty to fifty for the Gryffindor team.   Both keepers should have been proud, but they would both beat themselves up for not stopping more shots after the game high had worn off.

A particularly well-executed Wronski Feint performed by Harry Potter and nearly as good avoidance by Cho Chang initially drew the attention of the audience from the chasers and keepers.   Only nearly as good as it left her gathering her wits on the pitch before she could return to the hunt.

In the lull time while Harry was looking feverishly for the snitch, the audience turned back to the chaser action.

Ginny was racing behind Sarah Mallard, the third year chaser that Ron had appointed to the team.   According to the plan, at around fifty feet to the goal, Sean Wilkins would come in from his higher track and cross in front of them.   This would serve to confuse the keeper just as Sarah pealing to the right hand goal would help.   The maneuver executed precisely, Ginny waited until the last second for the keeper’s reaction before shooting for her goal.

The audience was enthralled.   They listened to the announcer, a forth year Hufflepuff, announce the goal and then the exciting yell afterward.

"Potter has spotted the snitch!" the announcer exclaimed.

They watched him climb vertically, dodging one bludger with a well timed roll and then reach for the snitch.   It was magnificent, the perfect culmination to a well fought game.


Charlie had watched all through the game as Harry had lured his opponent into a higher and higher orbit.   He watched in fascination as a seeker tactic that he had never seen before unfolded before his eyes.   It seemed a great way to deal with an opposing seeker marking your every move; lure them high above the pitch and then do a Wronski Feint.   The added altitude nearly assured that the other player would not avoid the ground.   And she didn’t.

Luckily for her she was only dazed, Charlie thought.

Oh, Harry’s spotted the snitch.   Look at him climb.   He sure is a great flyer.

Great avoidance of the bludger.

He got it!   And just one more bludger to avoid…

Oh no, he doesn’t see it.   There’s a bludger headed straight for him.

No Harry, don’t pitch over backwards.   The bludger will hit you that way.

Charlie watched as his sister’s boyfriend was struck on the shoulder of the hand holding onto the broom.

Charlie watched as Harry fell straight down, without his broom.

"Oh, shite," Charlie screamed, "he must be three hundred feet up.   Bill, can you get him?"

Bill was in a panic beside his brother.

"No, he’s at the center of the pitch," Bill answered as calmly as he could manage.   "He’s too far away for anyone to get him.   If he was just a bit closer to this side, I could spell the ground."

The audience gasped as they were all looking at the doomed boy.


Harry was in trouble and he knew it.   The ground would not forgiving from his altitude.

You’ll have to take care of that, don’t you, Potter.’

He twisted himself in air to face the approaching ground.

Oh bugger, I didn’t know that I was that high.   Here goes.

He cast three separate cushioning charms to the ground below him.   Luckily, his time snogging Ginny in the halls was paying off.   He imagined that he knew more cushioning charms than any other at the school and he hoped that the power he poured into it was enough to save him.

Harry spun back around to face his back to the ground, knowing that he had to spread his body out to spread the impact.

As he neared the ground he had a last second thought and cast one last charm.

Accio Firebolt!


Ginny watched the catch and the tip over, just as she had seen so many times before.   She knew that Harry loved flying the most when he could feel the Earth’s gravity trying to claim him, but knowing that it was not match for his own freedom at that particular moment.

From her position above the field, she couldn’t see the approaching bludger, nor did she see it spiral away after its successful strike.   All she could see in the world was the love of her life separating from his broom at an impossible height and plummeting to the unforgiving ground.


The crowd watched as Harry plummeted to his doom.

He turned to face the ground, his wand extended.

They were all surprised when he shot a short succession of lights at the ground below.   The ground momentarily glowed blue, then orange and finally white before going back to normal.   Some were amazed that Harry had fallen only half the distance to the ground by the time he finished his spell work.

They watched him twist in the air, facing the sky once again, wave his wand and spread himself flat.


This is going to hurt.


Blackness.


The editor of the weekly magazine, Witch Weekly, looked at the cache of wizarding photos with the smiling face of a lottery winner.   Freshly in her hand, she had photos of the young man who had just recently made the top five most eligible wizards, according to her own magazine, in his boxers.   This would increase her magazine readership tenfold.   Witches who didn’t subscribe would empty the wizard world’s newsstands.   She made a mental note to increase the printing and double-ship the bulk orders.


Harry’s consciousness swam back to the surface despite his adamant objections.

"Harry," said an enchanting voice.

"Harry, wake up for me."

Harry tried to move his hand to rub his eyes.

But, they just won’t cooperate.

"His hand twitched.   Madame Pomfrey, I think he is waking up."

Harry heard the click of the healer’s heels as she approached.

"Of course he’s waking.   He knows that he needs his potions now.   He’s been in here so many times that he knows the process.   He’s an expert patient.   Yet, still, he’ll try to leave early," he saw one figure shaking her its head.   "So, what this time?   Fell off his broom again.   Why we have that sport in a school for children is beyond me," she ranted quietly while measuring out potions; "Sure, let’s have children fly on broomsticks hundreds of feet off the ground, then let’s let other kids hit hard balls at them, trying to knock them off.   Oh, and let’s add a little ball that forces the children to fly at breakneck speeds straight at the ground or, even better, straight into the sky.   Oh, yeah, just the thing.   How many times is this, Mister Potter," she enunciated his name fully, "that you have been to visit me for that silly game?   I swear, any more and I’m just labeling one of these beds for you and moving your trunk from your dorm.   It would certainly be more efficient.   And no doubt, I’ll have to deal with students trying to sneak in to see you again.   I swear, this is an infirmary, patients need to rest while they’re here, not to socialize."

"Um," Harry said, after opening his eyes some time during the lecture, "Sorry?"

"What?" she asked, surprised that he had spoke.   "Oh, yes, well, just try to be safer next time."

"Ok."

She placed several vials of potion on his nightstand.

"Now, no more than five minutes and then your visitor must leave," Harry turned to the redhead girl sitting by his bedside, only then realizing that she was holding his hand.   "Just take these potions and go back to sleep in five minutes."

"Yes, Madame," said Harry, sheepishly.

Harry turned to Ginny, noticing her as she sat so peacefully holding his hand and staring into his eyes.

"Ginny…"

"Harry," she said, her voice full of cold passion, "Don’t ever make me worry like that again."

"Wha…" he started before he was interrupted, as if he had never spoken.

"I could have died when I saw you fall.   It was so far and you just fell and you were twisting in the air," by now she was breaking down into sobs and tears, "and I saw you shoot the ground with your wand, but I was so sure that it wouldn’t be enough, and then you summoned your broom and I knew that it wouldn’t get there in time," huge teardrops rolled down her cheeks as she was overwhelmed by the tears, "and I flew toward you, and I knew that I wouldn’t get to you before you hit the ground, and it felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest.   I just knew that you would be dead and I would be the first to reach you and I wouldn’t be able to do anything for you."

Harry pulled her onto the bed and enveloped her in a giant hug, pulling her to his chest.

"Ginny, I love you," Harry said with confidence.

Ginny sniffled and responded, "Oh, Harry, I love you, too."

Harry waved his wand over the bed that they lay in, expanding it to hold them both.

"Now," Harry said, ignoring his own pain, "I seem to have survived the fall, but if I don’t take these potions and get some sleep, I’m afraid that I won’t survive Dear Madame Pomfrey."

"Ok, Harry," she said, moving to get up.

"No, Ginny," Harry said.   "Just lie here with me and go to sleep too.   You’ve been through more stress today than I have and need your rest.   I think you should just put your head on my shoulder and let me hold you while we sleep.   It just might help us both to have a good night’s rest."

"Mm…Okay," Ginny said slowly, her eyelids having lowered to half-mast.

He waved his wand again to clothe Ginny in a set of silk pajamas, leaving her comfortable for a night’s rest.

Harry reached over and downed the first four potions, recognizing the healing potion, calming potion, muscle relaxer and bone knitter potions.   He looked at the last and knew it to be dreamless sleep potion.   Madame Pomfrey was all too predictable.   Harry swallowed half and then brought it to Ginny’s lips.

"Here, Gin," Harry said in a soothing voice, "Drink this, it’ll help."

She let him pour the potion into her mouth before swallowing it.   She snaked her arms around his rib cage and placed her head on his shoulder for the duration.

Harry smiled at her, pulling the sheet and blanket over them both before taking her in his arms and relaxing onto his own pillow, leaving him dead to the real world, happily in his own contented dream one, populated with just he and his perfectly real Ginny.


Harry awoke the next morning in bliss.   He couldn’t understand why he would wake in such good humor, but didn’t question it as he drifted to the surface.

He regained the senses in his limbs and realized that his arms were wrapped around something…or someone?

Harry opened his eyes and was met with a sea of red with light meeting his eyes through the fiery tresses.

That someone was Ginny, he realized.   He smiled.

Harry snuggled back down and closed his eyes, his nose twitching.   The smell was uniquely Ginny.

Harry drifted back down into a contented slumber.


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