a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

A/N: Not where I intended to end, but I want to get back into something approximating a regular posting schedule.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

oo00OO00oo 

Chapter 15: Quidditch 

No amount of soot could have completely subdued the garish crimson and gold attire worn by Harry’s family as they stepped out of the floo connection within The Three Broomsticks. Not that they stood out, mind you…it was just a few hours before the first Quidditch match of the academic season, and the Potters were in good (if slightly inebriated) company.

“The Pride” was full party mode, as Gryffindor alumni and their families gathered to eat, drink, and network before the match. Each of the Houses had loosely organized groups of backers who took over Hogsmeade’s two pubs on match day; the Slytherin alumni were presently filling up the Hogs Head just down the street…with an Auror detail stationed in between to keep the pre-match jinxes and curses to a minimum. 

James waved at Sirius as his daughters pulled them towards Alicia Spinnet’s younger sister and family. It was slow going, as Harry’s parents stopped to shake hands and say hello to friends and coworkers. And there were plenty in both categories, and plenty to talk about…the Potter family had been attending these pre-match parties for more than a decade, and the placement of both Harry and The-Girl-Who-Lived on the House team had the pub buzzing with excitement.

Fifteen minutes later had James no closer to the booth where he had first spied Sirius…not that his friend hadn’t made good use of that time.

“Why Snuffles, you old dog, you!” he muttered. 

Lily leaned towards her grinning husband so that her voice could be heard above the crowd.

“What’s he done now?” 

James nodded towards the Black family scion, who was chatting up a rosy-cheeked, slightly disheveled barmaid. 

“More like whom he’s done just now.” 

Lily rolled her eyes, and leaned to her left for a better view. “So they…” 

“Unless he’s been wanking under the table…I can almost feel the energy radiating out of his trousers, and that wasn’t there a few minutes ago when we stepped out of the floo.” 

Lily rolled her eyes. “And he wonders why Emmy never gave him the time of day?” 

“His loss was our gain.” 

The Muggleborn bisexual witch snorted, and popped a quick kiss on her husband’s cheek. 

“Smart use of pronouns there, Mister.” 

“Why thank you, sweetheart.”

Noticing that the barmaid’s attention had shifted to another table, Lily grabbed her husband by the arm and said, “C’mon…I want to have words with your best mate.” 

“Yes, Dear.” 

Sirius Black looked up as the married couple approached and quipped, “Well, it’s nice of you two to lower yourselves and sit with the common people.”

“Like you didn’t make good use of your time, Padfoot,” Lily growled, as they slipped into the booth. 

“Why, whatever do you mean?” Sirius asked with a wide grin. 

“Oh…never mind…what’s this about sitting with common people?”

“Well, now that Harry’s on the squad…figured you be in the V.I.W. section with the other team parents.” 

James looked over his shoulder towards the area in question, where Molly Weasley was holding court as The Pride’s self-appointed Alpha lioness. He winced a bit, and then turned back towards his best friend. 

“This is close enough to Hurricane Molly for me, thank you very much.”

Sirius nodded in understanding. “You’d think that with her son Charlie having graduated…” 

Lily rolled her eyes. “Her twins are still on the team, aren’t they?” 

“True, but isn’t Oliver Wood captain again?” 

“And that stopped her from trying to rule the roost last year?” Lily shook her head and then added, “You know we’ve never gotten along, Padfoot… she considers me the world’s worst witch because I have a career and leave my children in another witch’s care.” 

“Yeah…it’s ridiculous,” agreed Sirius. “Not just on the face of it, but given the fact that Emmy lives with you, and is practically an honorary mum….” 

“She’ll be more than honor…” 

James’s sentence was cut short by a swift kick to the side of his leg. 

“Ouch!” 

“So where is Emmy, anyway?” asked Sirius, after given his best friend a curious look. 

“Stayed home with our house guests,” Lily replied smoothly. “Roger Granger came up from London for the weekend.” 

“Hermione is staying with you for another week, then?”

James nodded. “Still trying to convince the family that she won’t have as bad a run of it when she returns to Hogwarts.” 

Sirius snorted. “So you’re lying to them, then?” 

“Of course not.” 

The Black scion rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m glad that she’s staying on…she’s been a big help in the Potions Shack, and we might just be enough time to complete the…” 

Sirius’s sentence completion was stifled by a swift kick to his leg. 

“Ouch!”

“Shush!” Lily hissed. 

“But we’re amongst friends, aren’t we?” Sirius asked, as his eyes drifted towards a barmaid as she approached with their drinks. He smiled at the waitress and asked, “You’ll be my friend, at least…won’t you…Amy?” 

The blonde-haired server tilted her head slightly and asked, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that we met before?” 

“A tremendous oversight on my part, no doubt.”

“Then you know my name, by….” 

The flirty wizard snorted, and waggled his eyebrows as he continued to appreciate the young woman’s chest.

“By your nametag, of course,” he replied. 

“Of course that where your eyes are focused, you dog,” Lily quipped. 

The long-haired wizard dismissed Lily’s sarcasm with an eye roll. “So why haven’t I seen you here before, Amy?” 

“Oh, I don’t work here normally…just helping my friend out.” 

“Your friend…?” 

“My friend Janet,” the waitress replied, as she nodded towards the barmaid taking orders two booths down. “Whom you appear to have seen quite a lot of just a few minutes ago.” 

Sirius followed the pretty witch’s gaze towards his latest conquest. His face fell. 

“Erm…right, so…” 

The barmaid giggled at her customer’s discomfort, and then asked, “So do you see something that you like?”

Making a quick recovery, Sirius replied, “Absolutely.” 

“I think she means from the menu,” Lily noted. 

Sirius smiled even wider as he dove even deeper into his A-game with the pretty barmaid. 

Lily sighed, and decided then and there that she’d rather spend the next hour worrying about her son’s safety during the match, than wonder why their friend’s cheesy pick-up lines were so successful. 

That resolve was tested when Sirius excused himself after the meal and disappeared behind the bar to do a little “dishwashing” with both Amy the barmaid and her friend Janet. 

oo00OO00oo 

Harry and Daphne had marched into the Great Hall earlier that morning with homework-filled rucksacks slung over their uniform-covered shoulders. The two first-years had been told the night previous that they would be escorted from breakfast straight to the Quidditch stadium’s locker rooms…despite the five hour gap in time between morning meal and match. And surely Oliver Wood wouldn’t use all of that time for pre-match speeches, right? 

The Gryffindor Captain did, in fact, use all of that time for match-related work, but spent a fair bit of it reviewing various different plays and formations with the three Chasers. This allowed the starting Seeker and his back-up to complete both Transfiguration and History of Magic essays, despite the distractions provided by the Weasley Twins, who were passing the time by playing a naughty variation of the game “hangman” with quill and parchment. The rules of this game were more akin to the Muggle game of strip poker than hangman; each round started with a theatrical stage rather than an empty gallows, and each time that a wrong guess was made an animated stick-figure woman removed a piece of her clothing.

Neither Harry nor Daphne was surprised by the fact that the first letters guessed for each puzzle were invariably “Z”, “X” and “Q”. 

oo00OO00oo 

No amount of forewarning could have completely prepared the Potter Family for the boisterous crowds as they walked out of street entrance of The Three Broomsticks.

“Looks like a World Cup campground,” James marveled. 

Lily took one look out onto the jam-packet street and immediately took hold of her youngest daughter’s hand. “Morgan, stick close,” she instructed. “Might have a long walk before there’s room to launch our brooms.” 

“Why are there so many people here today, Mummy?” asked Nia. “Are they here to watch Harry play too?” 

The red-haired witch sighed as she surveyed the crowd. “I don’t know, honey.” 

“More like they want to see The-Girl-Who-Lived,” muttered James. 

“Now, James…” 

“Telling me that I’m wrong, Dear?” 

“No, but…” 

“Oh, look…there’s Potter!” somebody shouted from the other side of the street. “Lord Potter, if we could have a few minutes of your time?” 

Harry’s dad groaned when he spied the gaggle of news reporters who were pushing their way towards his family. He turned towards his wife and asked, “Think we could outrun them, Lils?” 

“I doubt it, Milord,” she replied with saccharine sweetness. “I’ll take the girls on to the stadium while you play politics.” 

“Yes, Dear.” 

“And try not to say anything too outrageous, this time.”

Sirius laughed, and slapped his friend’s robe-covered back. 

“Don’t worry, Lily…I’ll keep him out of trouble!” 

Harry’s Mum rolled her eyes, but sacrificed the chance for a retort in exchange for a few more feet distance between the reporters and her daughters.

James and Sirius and stepped away from the taven’s doorway so that it wasn’t blocked by the half-dozen reporters who had formed a confining semi-circular perimeter.

“Good afternoon, Ladies and Gents,” said Harry’s father. “Isn’t it a great day for Quidditch?” 

Ignoring the greeting, one of the more aggressive reporters dove in and asked, “Lord Potter, how does it feel to be the father of the youngest Hogwarts League Seeker in more than a century?” 

“Naturally, like any parent, I’m proud and nervous and excited all at the same time.” 

“Who do you think will win today?” 

“I have no idea…I’m just hoping for a cleanly played match and a minimum of injuries.” 

“What do you think of the side Gryffindor has put together?” 

“I’m sure that the team will be a credit to their House.” 

“Think they’ll have a chance to challenge for the Cup this year?” 

James smiled. “Well, the Gryffindor side is easily the youngest, and least experienced side this year. And Slytherin has put together a string of victories, haven’t they? Have to see just how many untimely detentions they’ll be this go.” 

James allowed the knowing laughter to die down before continuing. “But even if Gryffindor’s relative inexperience comes into play today…well, it’s rather exciting to imagine what this same roster will be able to do two years down the road.” 

“Were you surprised that your son made the team as a Seeker?” 

“Well, if Muggle genetics or parental heritage had any say, you might have marked Harry as a Chaser, but otherwise, no.” 

“So you’ve been training him from a young age, then?” 

James shook his head. “Probably far less than some other fathers…it’s not like we have a pitch set up in our backyard, and with Harry attending Muggle primary schools he’s played just as much rugby or cricket as he’s tossed around a quaffle.” 

“Do you regret allowing your children being negatively influenced that way by the Muggle world?” 

Harry’s dad scowled at the reporter who chimed in with that question. “Not in the least. Their experiences in the Muggle world can only help them as they grow up.” 

“And it certainly didn’t hurt Harry’s abilities on the Quidditch pitch,” added Sirius.

“Some may say that it’s more about influence and favoritism than ability,” a pesky female reporter snarked. “How do you respond to the charge that your “special” relationship with members of an all-female Quidditch team has given your son an advantage today?” 

“That’s preposterous.” 

“What’s preposterous, Milord? That your son will have an unfair edge by riding on a professional-level broomstick, or that you have been have had multiple affairs with members of the Holyrood Harpies?” 

“Both,” James spat back.

“But if the reports are right, he’ll be flying today on a top-of-the-line model...can’t buy a faster broom.” 

“Erm…is there a question in there?” 

“What about the unfair advantage to the other teams?” 

James shrugged. “There aren’t any restrictions on the broomsticks used by students during school matches.” 

“Is that sporting, though?” 

“Well, I have previously proposed to the Board of Governors that the school purchase new broomsticks for the every House Quidditch teams, and require their use during the matches.” 

“So each side would fly on the exact same makes and models of broomsticks?” 

“Exactly. That way, the outcomes would depend more on skill and teamwork, rather than how rich your parents are.” 

“Sounds like a reasonable idea…why haven’t you been able to get it adopted?” 

Harry’s father snorted. “There’s been strong opposition from a few of the other Governors, who claim that the school can’t afford to purchase twenty-eight brooms all in one go.” 

Sirius laughed as he added, “And I’m sure that it’s only coincidence that the most vocal supporters of the status quo are the ones most likely to kit their children out with the best brooms possible?” 

James had enough political savvy to let Sirius’s remarks pass without comment, which allowed the surly “reporter” to get back on track with another charge. 

“Milord, how do you respond to the charge that your son has been allowed to flaunt school rules?” 

“What do you mean, exactly?” 

“Well, First Year students aren’t allowed to bring a broom to Hogwarts.” 

“And he didn’t,” James shot back testily.

“So it’s just coincidence that your son is the Gryffindor starting seeker today, and will be riding on a world-class broom?” 

“It was the decision of the student team captain to place my son on the team...just as it was his decision to place another First-Year student on the team after tryouts were held.” 

“Do you think The-Girl-Who-Lived has been shown favoritism then?” 

“I have no reasons to believe, or even suspect that to be the case. Regardless of the rumors, I understand from my son’s letters home that Miss Greengrass is a strong flyer, and a capable teammate.” 

“Would The-Girl-Who-Lived be starting today if she had a professional-grade broomstick?” 

“I have no idea…although from what I gather, Miss Greengrass has been practicing with a very fast stick that belongs to an older student in a different house. Which is another loophole in that rule about First Year students and broomsticks…they can’t bring them, but there’s nothing against them borrowing broomsticks from older students?”

“So you’re in favor of allowing all First Year students at Hogwarts to bring broomsticks from home?” 

Harry’s father took in a deep breath and checked his wrist watch before answering. 

“I’ll answer this last question, then. The Headmaster and staff have the primary responsibility for ensuring the health and safety of their students. The ban on First-Year's bringing broomsticks is one way of limiting flying accidents, but if it were up to me, I would regulate flying the same way we do apparition.” 

“How’d that work?” 

“Just as I said,” James replied. “Require anyone piloting a broomstick to hold a license, which they could obtain only after they passed a Ministry-proctored examination that proves they are capable of flying safely.”

“Isn’t that the same as the need to pass through the Hogwarts Flying Class?” 

“No…because not every witch or wizard attends Hogwarts, and because there are plenty of children flying broomsticks that are younger than eleven.” 

“So with this license, a four year old could fly a racing broom?” 

“Not necessarily…you could issue permits that restrict a witch or wizard to flying certain models, or classes of broomsticks. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” 

“Lord Potter….where is your wife today?” 

“She’s flown ahead, if you must know.” 

“And why isn’t your wife riding on your broomstick, Lord Potter?” 

James stared incredulously at the reporter who had asked this question. 

“Which publication are you with, Miss?” 

“I’m Rita Skeeter, from Teen Witch Weekly.” 

“So you don’t normally cover Quidditch, then?” 

One of the sports reporters chuckled at the question.

“Nothing untoward there, Rita…Lord Potter always flies solo when he watches these matches.” 

“How come?” 

Sirius grinned, and answered, “Because he can’t sit still during a match…his wife Lily almost killed him the first time he did a sympathetic Wronski Feint with a baby buckled onto the back of the broom.” 

James nodded, and once again declared the question session complete as he led Sirius down the street towards Hogwarts. Once the crowd thinned sufficiently, they pulled miniaturized broomsticks from pockets, and restored them to full size. They then launched themselves towards the Quidditch stadium, where broomsticks not only got you to the game but provided the seating during it.

The issue of shared family broomsticks would have been moot had seating for the general public been available within the stadium, but Albus Dumbledore hadn’t allowed anyone but students and staff within the stadium for more than fifty years. His position was that these games were strictly amateur events, and that selling tickets to the public and allowing them on campus would only place more pressure on the shoulders of the student athletes. These sentiments were undercut somewhat by his tolerance of broomstick flying parents and fans who hovered just outside the school boundaries during the matches…and led some to suspect that what the Headmaster really feared was the “interference” that might come with having parents on his school’s grounds when classes were in session. 

Regardless of motives, the allowance for off-campus fans to watch school Quidditch games had become a regulated institution in and of itself, with rules and guidelines enforced by flying squadrons of Aurors ready to stomp down upon excessive rowdiness within the ersatz stands. Their efforts were aided by an invisible barrier that kept the fans from flying onto the pitch and interfere with the game (a barrier installed after the infamous Gryffindor-Slytherin match of 1962, when a phalanx of drunken Slytherin alumni swooped in and blocked the Gryff seeker from catching the Snitch). A 100-foot buffer between the supporters of both sides was also enforced, with each lined up along the side of the Stadium closest to Hogsmeade. 

“Well, that was lovely,” snarked Sirius, while James and he pulled up on the Gryffindor side. 

“Could have been worse,” James admitted. 

“So do you see Lily and the girls yet?” 

Harry’s father nodded and pointed towards the lowest of three ranks of hovering broomsticks. 

“Looks like Morgan and Nia have gotten some help holding their sign. Which frees us up to …topside, then?” 

“Sure.” 

The two wizards elevated towards the top row of Gryffindor supporters. They found (or more accurately, created) space on the edge of the enforced buffer zone, and set their brooms to hover. 

Sirius asked, “Are you sure you won’t get into trouble with Lily for heading off on your own?” 

“No worries, I’ll just blame it on your bad influence.” 

“And she’ll believe you?” 

“You’re always good for something, mate,” James quipped. “Besides, we already agreed to watch the game from different spots.” 

“How come?” 

“So that Lily doesn’t have to be embarrassed by my antics, and I don’t have to place ear-muff charms on the girls.” 

“Does that mean we can join in when the “Sod off, Salazar” chant starts up? 

“Now Sirius, what would people think if they saw those words escaping from the lips of a respected member of society like me?” 

“Ahhhh, I see…so when will you want me to put a notice-me-not charm on your mouth?” 

“Preferably after I’ve flagged down the Butterbeer Man," James admitted with a smirk. "Unless you want to buy the first couple of rounds?” 

“Oh, no…that’s fine by me,” Sirius quickly replied. “Hey look…there’s Frank and Alice.” 

James leaned forward and waved as his on-duty friends pulled up wearing their Auror robes. 

“How’s it going you two?” 

“Not too bad, Boss,” Frank replied. “Been able to keep the buffer clear so far.” 

“Hey, none of that Boss business today,” James whined. He held up his cup of butterbeer and added, “I’m off-duty.” 

“Well don’t get too-well lubricated, James,” Alice replied. “Might need your help later on if things go pear-shaped.” 

The Auror Captain nodded as he looked over at the opposing side’s rowdy fans.

oo00OO00oo 

Oliver Wood paced back in forth of his team and gave the kind of dramatic (and mockable) pre-game speech that wouldn’t change by a word were there a million different alternative universes. Harry Potter stared down at his boots during the oration, and passed the broomstick propped in between his knees from one hand to the other. The Gryffindor Captain assumed that this was because his First-Year Seeker was suffering from pre-match jitters…but in reality it was the only way Harry could hide the grin placed on his face by Fred and George’s whispered running commentary. 

Although, if asked the black-haired wizard would admit to a bit of nervousness. Harry had never played against opponents who were five or six years older than he was, nor played his father’s favorite sport, for his father’s old House team…while his father and the rest of his family were watching. On the other hand, this wasn’t his first school team, or first high-profile position; back in Wales he’d been his primary school’s star on the rugby and football teams, and its best bowler on the cricket pitch.

The limited extent of the Potter scion’s nervousness was proven when his eyes focused on the autographs of Holyrood Harpies that ran down the length of his broomstick handle. The demi-demon immediately began to match up each signature with a face…and the odd occasions when they unknowingly fed his wild side.

Harry’s reminiscing was interrupted when a brown-skin hand slipped down the length of the handle and blocked his view. Harry looked up, and blushed when he realized that his captain’s speech had ended, and that his teammates were making final checks on their gear. Angelina Johnson, the witch who had grabbed his stick, noticed this blush and mistakenly thought it had something to do with her suggestive grip. So she smiled, and tried to intensify the reaction by running her hand up and down the handle. 

“What…what are you doing?” Harry asked. 

“Pre-game ritual,” Angelina replied. “Right before every match, I stroke the seeker’s stick for good luck.” 

“Which one?” 

The Chaser, who had been standing in front of Harry, leaned down and licked her lips. Whatever flirty and/or smutty retort she was throwing back his way was interrupted by a second pair of hands that forced their way onto the handle. 

“Hey budge over, Luv,” chirped Alicia. “I need to do some good luck rubbing too.” 

“Me too!” Katie chimed in, as she budged in from the other side and added her hand hold. 

Harry laughed, and pinned the broomstick in between his thighs so that it better approximated an super-sized appendage. He then leaned back and smiled. 

“No pushing, no shoving…plenty of room for everyone to grab hold…” 

“You wish!” snorted Fred. 

“In your dreams!” added George. 

“Better my dreams than yours, you wankers!” Harry quipped. 

“Hey there…enough of that!” growled Oliver. “Form up ranks…time to head out to the pitch.” 

“Oh well…guess there’s only enough time to start a new pre-match ritual,” Katie decided. 

“What’s that?” 

The Second-Year smiled, and darted forward to plant a firm kiss on Harry’s lips. 

“It’s called ‘Snog the Seeker’,” she declared with a laugh. 

Angelina and Alicia decided that this was an excellent suggestion, and quickly followed suit. Harry and to push away the Weasley Twins, whom he hoped were only joking about their intentions to join in. He then spied Daphne Greengrass, who had been watching the scene play out from a distance. A roguish smile and slight tilt of the head caused The-Girl-Who-Lived to look away and blush. Harry didn’t press the issue as he shouldered his broom and stood next to her in line. 

Members of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams provided one last minder escort as the Gryffindor eight walked out of the locker rooms with brooms on their shoulders and determined looks on their faces. Nobody was all that surprised that it was the Hufflepuff seeker who formed up alongside Daphne, and walked with her and Harry as they navigated the short distance from locker room to pitch. 

“Good luck, Harry,” said Cedric. 

“Thanks,” the black-haired wizard replied. “And thanks for offering to sit with Daphne on our bench during the match.” 

“Not a problem,” the Hufflepuff replied brightly. “Wouldn’t want to see anyone on their own out there, the way Slytherin plays.” 

Harry nodded. “Which is exactly why I doubt it will take any time at all before she’ll be needed as an injury replacement.” 

Daphne frowned. “You just keep yourself safe, Mister,” she insistently demanded.

Cedric raised an eyebrow at The-Girl-Who-Lived’s words, in the same way that Harry thought he might express concern if one of his sisters had said those words to some another boy. So why would the Hufflepuff be acting like a protective big-brother? 

Harry’s head banging against the strength of a Fidelius charm’s magic was interrupted by a kiss on his cheek…which then caused both of Cedric’s eyebrows to reach his hairline. The Gryffindor seeker turned towards Daphne and sheepishly asked, “Thanks?” 

Daphne giggled. “Hey, it’s a team tradition, right?” 

The black-haired wizard smiled. “Guess that I’ll have to remember that when I’m benched for poor play and you become our seeker.” 

“Like that will happen,” Daphne muttered. 

“Right then, Gryffindors….mount up!” Ollie shouted. 

Daphne joined the starting seven as they walked out into the tunnel, climbed aboard their brooms, and flew two-by-two down the chute.

oo00OO00oo 

Sirius Black had a cup in one hand and a cauldron cake in the other when the Gryffindor burst out of the tunnel. He used a sticking charm to fix the bottom of his butterbeer cup to the top of his stick so that he could applaud, but bounced so much when he clapped that most of the liquid splashed out. 

“Kick some snakey arse, Pup!” he yelled, as the team did a fly-by. 

“Sirius,” whined James. “This is supposed to be a children’s sporting competition.” 

“Yeah right…can you hear what their backers are yelling?” 

“Just try to tone it down, please?” 

Sirius shook his head dismissively. “Yes, mummie…did you see how well Harry is handling that stick?” 

“Yeah, whole team looks good.” 

“But that Nimbus, Prongs…still can’t believe how lucky he was…although if I were Harry’s age, I’d rather it be the other way around, and wish that it were the Harpies riding on my broomstick.” 

“If you were eleven, Padfoot?” asked James. “Does that mean you’ve given up on your childhood fantasies?” 

“Never,” Sirius grinned. “Shagging the starting seven in the Harpies’ showers will always be on the top of my bucket list.” 

James snorted. 

“What…you mean that you wouldn’t want to do something like that before you die?” 

“I’m married, mate.” 

“So?” 

“I’m married to Lily.” 

“Erm, right…good point.” 

James nodded, pleased that his statements of simple facts allowed him to avoid answering the question. He really didn’t like deceiving his best friend any more than he had to…and with the match about to begin didn’t want to explain why “Lily and I invite Gwenog’s team into our bedroom” was not only on his bucket list, but something that had already been crossed off.

oo00OO00oo 

Harry found it easy to spot his family as they flew warm-up laps around the perimeter of the pitch…one need only look for a extroverted Godfather, or a magically-animated and slightly-modified Welsh flag whose red dragon held a green snake in its front paws. Harry smiled, and when he spied Wood’s back turned, waved to his Mum and sisters. 

The Gryffindor team retreated to its half of the pitch and began more intense warm-ups. Harry focused his thoughts on his Captain’s instructions, and pre-match analysis. Wood had scouted out the Slytherin side…not that there was ever much variation in their standard approach to the game.

It was always “Play Dirty and Win Ugly.”

Unfortunately, as soon as the snitch was released and the match begun, it took no time at all for Gryffindor’s seeker to discover that the Slytherins had added a new page to their playbook. And that there were only two words on that playbook’s page: 

“Kill Potter.” 

The two Slytherin Beaters totally ignored the Gryffindor chaser line from the start, and sent all of their bludger hits towards Harry. The Slytherin Seeker, when he wasn’t himself avoiding those bludgers, buzzed the first-year and tried to distract by peppering him with lewd comments about shagging mudbloods.

Harry was smart enough to realize the tactics for what they were, and had a thick enough skin to ignore the foul-mouthed abuse. But the bludger attacks were something much harder to ignore, and he found it very difficult to spend any amount of time searching for the snitch. Of course the Slytherin Seeker wasn’t looking either, and the Beaters’ focus on him forced Fred and George to do the same. As a result, both sets of Chasers were left alone, and it quickly became a contest between each line and the opposing Keeper. Given the Wood’s skills as the Gryffindor keeper and the deft passing of his Chasers, it only took twenty minutes for the Lions to build up a 130 point lead. 

Oliver Wood was relatively happy with how the game was being played, so long as Harry could stay aboard his broomstick…at the rate that they were scoring, there would soon be an insurmountable lead even if their Seeker were to go to ground and Slytherin caught the snitch. But the other captain knew this as well, so the green and silver’s strategy shifted…from “Kill Potter,” to “Kill any of the chasers before the lead got to 16o.” 

Unfortunately, this change in approach quickly bore fruit and drew blood when Katie Bell was illegally interfered with, then struck by a bludger that fractured her leg. A buzz of excitement grew both within the stadium and outside it when play was stopped…it was clear to everyone that Katie was out of the game, and the Girl-Who-Lived was the only available reserve. 

Few bothered to watch an enraged Angelina Johnson make the penalty shot, and the round of applause that Katie received as Madame Pomfrey levitated her off of the pitch was polite, but distracted. Everyone’s eyes were on Daphne, as she mounted her broom and began to dart up and down the sidelines on her broom in a hasty warm-up.

The enthusiastic applause that came when Lee Jordan announced the replacement grew even louder when Daphne flew right past the two remaining Chasers and climbed up to where Harry and the other Seeker were hovering.

“Told you it wouldn’t be long,” Harry stated, as The-Girl-Who-Lived came up alongside him. He then surprised Daphne and delighted the crowd when he leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“My turn to snog the seeker now, eh?” he asked.

Daphne rolled her eyes as Harry floated down to join the chaser line (after threatening the Slytherin Seeker with grievous bodily harm should he continue the same style of play). Madame Hootch then blew her whistle and put the quaffle back into play. 

Harry’s move to the Chaser Line allowed the Slytherin team to combine their previous two strategies, and play “Kill Potter (the Chaser).” Daphne was ignored, and allowed to search for the snitch unimpeded as the Slytherin Seeker continued to focus on driving Harry to distraction. 

Allowed to search, that is, until an outside force intervened. 

Harry had just passed the Quaffle to Alicia Spinnet and was fending off yet another bludger attack when he heard cries coming from the crowd, and spied a few fingers pointing above his head. He looked up, and cursed in Welsh…Daphne’s broomstick was jerking violently and climbing in altitude, and she was struggling to stay aboard. 

Up in the ranks just beyond the Quidditch stadium, James Potter’s curse was just as emphatic when he realized that the Gryffindor Seeker was in trouble. He tossed his half-filled cup of butterbeer and (ignoring the complaints from beneath him) took hold of his broomstick with both hands. 

“Sirius…fly in front of the Gryffindor ranks…see if anybody is jinxing that broom.” 

“But surely you don’t think that a Gryff backer would…” 

“Just do it, damnit! Might be anyone that’s slipped in with the lot.” 

“Aye, Captain!” 

James barely heard his friend’s response as he pulled a flashing-red light out of his pocket, attached it to the front tip of his broomstick handle, then veered into the buffer zone between the two groups of fans.

He was saw that Frank and Alice Longbottom had already taken the initiative and were cruising past the lower two ranks of Slytherin backers. This left the top row of parked broomsticks, and James flew down its length in just a few seconds. He swore again when he reached the end…the green and silver-clad arses had been jeering and laughing at The-Girl-Who-Lived’s equipment problem, but nobody had been actively jinxing her. James turned back towards the stadiumin time to see his son streaking up towards his still-struggling teammate. 

Quick shout-outs from the Longbottoms confirmed that they hadn’t found anyone causing the problem. This led James to conclude that there might be an attacker within the Stadium….most likely from the Slytherin student section, which had its back to the rows of broomsticks, and was hidden from view by the near wall of the Stadium.

After sending out a message spell to his subordinates, and instructing them to follow his lead, Harry’s father pointed his wand towards the airspace in between the Stadium and the end of his broomstick. 

“Hogwarts Ward Overide, Auror Authorization Code Potter…James…Alpha…Three…Omicron!” 

The air twenty feet in front of him shimmered blue in response, giving the Auror Captain the confidence he needed to accelerate forward and into the stadium without fear of bouncing up against the wards. 

oo00OO00oo 

Harry had pointed his Nimbus 2000 towards Daphne just as soon as he realized that she was in trouble. He wasn’t the only one to do so, but his was the fastest broom…which made Harry the closest to his teammate when her fingers slipped and she began to fall from a height of twelve hundred feet above the pitch. The demi-demon immediately changed course and dove in pursuit. But two seconds later, he was pushed off this path by a bludger that crashed into his shoulder and almost knocked him off of his broom.

Too focused to worry about the pain, or why someone would try to sabotage a rescue attempt, Harry pulled his stick back on track, and increased speed. This focus, and the unspoken confidence he had in his broom-riding, were sufficient to keep the demon within from breaking out and offering a helping tentacle (an event that both of his horrified parents were expecting as he rode to the rescue).

Daphne was falling towards what she thought was certain death. But Ollie, being Ollie, had trained the team for just this type of emergency, to the point where The-Girl-Who-Lived automatically assumed the “pancake position”… face first, arms and legs spread out wide, and no flailing about. This maximized the amount of wind resistance provided by her robes and marginally slowed her rate of descent. But more importantly, the position made it far easier for a teammate to duck under and make an airborne rescue. And Harry, painful shoulder and all, was lined up for that attempt. 

But then a second bit of interference occurred...somebody on the ground had the bright idea of casting a spell that greatly retarded Daphne’s rate of descent. It wasn’t a bad idea…made it far more likely that The-Girl-Who-Lived would only be critically injured, rather than killed outright. But Harry’s intercept path hadn’t accounted for this spell, so he undershot her by thirty-feet. 

Without thinking Harry powered his broomstick into a full loop and calculated a new intercept. By now Daphne was screaming at the top of her lungs…so much that he could have marked her by sound, rather than sight. Then she suddenly stopped screaming, which worried Harry enough to nudge his broom that much faster. 

Harry’s new path was so steep that it became the same Wronski Feint that Daphne had taught Harry…and that tutelage paid off he approached her from the rear and ducked underneath her spread legs. As soon as the First-Year witch spotted her teammate below her she clamped her arms around his shoulders and dropped down onto the broom. As soon as Harry felt this weight behind his saddle he pulled out of the dive, just grazing the grass with his boots before he pulled his broom into a hover. 

“I’ve got you! I’ve got you!” Harry kept yelling, until he came to full stop, and he switched to “Are you okay? Are you okay?” 

When Daphne didn’t respond, Harry feared the worst…until he turned around and realized that the response had been impeded by the golden snitch that his passenger was pulling out of her mouth. Once her airway was cleared of obstructions Daphne began to loudly sob, and she pulled Harry into a crushing (and painful) hug. 

He didn’t complain one bit. 

oo00OO00oo 

James’s plan to cruise past the Slytherin section of the stands had been immediately abandoned once Daphne fell off of her jinxed broom. He set out on his own intercept path towards the pitch, so that he could cast a cushioning charm at the probable point of impact. The Auror Captain had just finished the necessary wand movements when his son made a mid-air rescue and pulled up to a full stop. James then heard a very familiar voice call out his son’s name. He turned, and spotted his flying towards their son at top speed, with their daughters still strapped in behind. 

Wondering (briefly) how Lily had gotten past the Hogwarts Wards, James decided that she was fully capable of playing the role of distraught parent, and snapped his thoughts back towards the potential crime scene. He looked up into the stands, and cursed…the spectators were all emptying out, with the Slytherin students leaving the scene as quickly as they could. 

He tried to call out for everyone to remain where they were, but his Sonorus-aided voice was drowned out by the cheers of “Well Done, Gryffindor!”

Resigned to the potential need to interview witnesses and check wand signatures after-the-fact, James used his message spell to direct his team. Frank Longbottom was asked to return to the MLE and bring back a full team of investigators, his wife Alice was dispatched to interview Professor McGonagall and other “friendly” staff members, and Sirius was tasked with tracking down the location of Daphne Greengrass’s broom. This left James with the job of talking with the victim and her rescuer. 

He just had to get to Harry and Daphne…which proved problematic given the thick crowd of celebrating students that surrounded them. And then Dumbledore intervened, and tried to assure James that the Hogwarts Staff were fully prepared and capable of investigating the cause of the accident themselves. 

That proposal flew about as well as a lead Leviosa, especially once Alice Longbottom flew to James’s side with some news and a pair of omnioculars. 

“Neville and Susan flagged me down from the Hufflepuff section,” she explained. “While everyone else was watching Daphne fall off her broomstick, they were scanning the stands, looking for suspects.” 

“Really?” James asked. “Well, guess the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. Did they see anything?” 

The female Auror shot a nasty look towards Dumbledore as she nodded her head, and handed her team leader the magical recording device. 

“You’ll have to rewind the images.” 

James arched an eyebrow, then glanced towards where his son was being attended to by both Poppy and Lily. 

“He’s in good hands, Boss,” Alice declared. “And you only need to watch about 15 seconds of video.” 

The Auror Captain snorted at the Muggle term, then put the omnioculars up to his eyes. 

He didn’t wait to finish his review before he snarled out, “That greasy….Dumbledore, I want to speak to Snape...and your DADA professor as well...now!” 

The Headmaster frowned, then looked up towards the faculty box. 

“They have both apparently left, Auror Captain.” 

Pulling the omnioculars away from his face, James barked, “Well find them, then.” 

Albus sighed. 

“If you insist…shall we meet in my office then, in, say…ten minutes time?” 

When Harry’s dad nodded, the Headmaster sent off a messenger spell. 

“Lord Potter…may I ask that you bring that recording device with you, so that we could all have the opportunity to review what you’ve just seen?” 

James stared at Dumbledore with disbelief, then shook his head as he gave the glasses back to Alice Longbottom. 

“Get these back to the MLE, duplicate, distribute, then get them into secured storage,” he ordered. 

“But…” Albus stammered. 

“Sorry, Headmaster Dumbledore,” James replied with a thin grin. “Standard chain-of-custody procedures, evidence preservation, and all that…not that I have any reason to believe that that somebody might tamper with either the evidence…or with my memory…during the meeting…” 

“Surely you are accusing….” 

“Of course not, Headmaster,” James replied brightly. “Just following Ministry regulations.” 

Albus closed his eyes for a few moments, then let out a deep breath and began to quickly revise plans for achieving his version of “The Greater Good”.