Strangeland

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Chapter Four
FIGHT

Harry watched as Ron diligently drilled the team to exhaustion later that evening.

First he led the trio of Chasers through a turbulent exercise of obscene Quaffle stealing, and then he charmed about twenty pillows into the air for their two Beaters to practice their batting skills on.

By the end of practice, Ginny, Seamus, and Dennis all had numerous scratches on their faces and arms, and the entire field was blanketed with geese feathers.

They all landed in a tired heap around Ron when he announced the end of their two hours, and everyone looked very relieved about it. Harry himself hadn’t really done anything out of the ordinary, but just watching his fellow teammates acting in such an unusual manner of violence made him feel as if he too had been beating the life out of his arms.

Ron stood beaming at the group, chest puffed out and his Cleansweep slung over one shoulder.

“Brilliant practice!” he exclaimed, his voice booming loud enough to echo across the entire pitch. He paced back and forth authoritatively, looking incredibly pleased. “Absolutely brilliant!”

He opened his mouth to say something more but Andrew cleared his throat uncertainly and spoke up.

“Are you... sure this’ll - help us win on Sunday?” he asked.

The other members quickly glanced at Ron with expectant looks on their faces.

“’Course it will!” said Ron, undaunted. “This is how the Slytherins have been beating us up till now, right? So we give it right back to them! Can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”

Andrew nodded resignedly and raised his eyes upwards as if he were praying to the heavens that their captain’s plans would prove faultless. Harry inwardly felt thankful that he was Seeker. All he was expected to do was to catch the Snitch before Malfoy, and that was hardly a challenge in his book.

Ron made a painful face at the long gash on Seamus’s left cheek and Harry noticed Ginny shifting her gaze, looking very apologetic.

“You three should go up to the Hospital Wing and have Pomfrey fix you up.”

“Thank you!” gasped Dennis, who’d been clutching his hand the whole time and looking very pale. And before anyone could utter another word, he picked up his broomstick with his uninjured hand and scampered off in the direction of the castle.

“Right, then.” Ron grinned cheerfully, clapping his hands together. “So everyone’s got what they’re to do, yeah?”

Five players nodded in unison.

“Don’t hold back and attack full on! If they plunder the Quaffle from you, plunder it back! If they ram a Bludger at you, ram it back!” he whirled around to face Harry, his finger jabbing him in the chest emphatically with each word. “And if Malfoy spots that Snitch before you, don’t even think about penalties! Grab his broomtail, grab his robes, grab his hair if you’ve got to. Just get to it. Before. HIM. And that’s final.”

“Got it.” Harry replied firmly, trying hard to keep his face straight as he imagined the girlish scream Draco would let out if he clamped his fingers around a tuft of his perfect silky hair and pulled as hard as he could.

“And nobody does anything tomorrow. We can’t afford injuries before the match.” warned Ron.

“What do you mean ‘anything’. We can’t do nothing.” Dean said a little sarcastically.

“No dueling or fighting, no flying, no dangerous jokes, no stunts -”

Ginny looked immensely relieved. “But Hogsmeade’s okay then?”

Ron frowned contemplatively for a minute before shaking his head. “It’d be better if you stayed inside the common room. Slytherin might have something up their sleeves and they could try to attack us when we’re least expecting it.”

“What?” everyone shouted incredulously, Ginny’s voice loudest above all.

“No Hogsmeade?” Seamus cried out.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Andrew protested. “You can’t expect us to stay locked inside the common room all day!”

“We aren’t going to lose to Slytherin bloody dammit!!!” Ron bellowed, eyes popping and broom waving madly above his head. “We can’t afford to -”

Ginny stamped her foot with a furious expression on her face; it seemed that that had been her last thread. “You’re becoming obsessive Ron! It’s Quidditch, not war! This is just insane!”

“Insane? How is this insane? You know what those Slytherins are capable of! You’ve seen their sneaky tactics! They’ll do anything to crash our chances for the Cup!” Ron’s face was rapidly becoming the same hue as his flaming hair and for the first time ever, Harry was actually startled by the fever in his attitude. Ron had always been a very avid team Captain, but his enthusiasm rarely resulted in angry shouting, as was happening now. Harry had half the mind to take a hold of his best friend’s arm and tell him to take it easy, but of course, he didn’t.

“Well look -” Seamus interrupted hastily, stepping in between the glaring match of brother and sister. “We’re never gonna win if we don’t work together, right?”

Dean stepped in too. “Right. It’s all about team work.”

“Let’s think of a compromise.” Andrew suggested cautiously, watching Ron’s every move. “We stick with today’s playing strategy, but we also get to go to Hogsmeade.”

“And we’ll move around in large groups so that they won’t be able to attack us without a struggle.” Seamus added.

Ron pursed his lips, looking very unsettled.

“Harry -” he said suddenly, looking desperate. “You’re co-captain, what do you say?”

“Uh -” Harry stammered, scratching his neck indecisively. “Well... I suppose they’ve got a point...”

Ron glared at him too for a moment, before closing his eyes and sighing heavily. “Fine.” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Just - yeah, stay in big groups then and have your wands with you.”

“See, I knew you’d come around.” Ginny beamed and kissed her brother on the cheek. Ron grimaced and wiped his sleeve quickly across his face. The tension seemed to have died away in a swift moment and now the whole team was looking satisfied with the situation. Everyone began trooping back to the locker rooms in considerably brighter moods, and Harry was about to to join them, when he saw that Ron was lagging behind, looking very forlorn. He walked over slowly and placed a comforting hand on his arm, not quite knowing what to say.

“Am I really that horrible at being captain?” Ron asked, his eyes not meeting Harry’s as they made their way slowly across the wet field. “I mean, am I not cut out to be as great as Wood?”

“’Course not.” Harry said with a warm smile, throwing his arm around Ron’s shoulders. “You’re a great captain, and a lot less spontaneous then Oliver. And that’s a good thing.”

Ron cracked a small smile and shrugged. “I dunno, it’s just that sometimes I get so caught up in the game and I forget that it’s not like chess or exploding snap. I’m always afraid of people rejecting me as a Captain you know?”

“Hey, I’m sure Oliver had his ups and downs too at the beginning. And you saw yourself winning that award today right? That’s got to mean something.”

There was a pause and then Ron finally looked up hopefully. “You reckon?”

And even though Harry wasn’t quite sure whether divination actually worked or not, he truly felt that Ron deserved that award more than anyone else he knew. So he wasn’t lying when he grinned widely and said,

“Yeah, I reckon.”

----------------------------------

The morning of the big game dawned bright and and just right. The air was not too cold, the grass was not too wet, and the clouds were just enough to provide occasional shade now and again to help the players avoid vision impairment from the blinding sun beams.

Due to a previous day of relaxation and a night of good long sleep, Gryffindor team was very much ready to take action as they piled up into the locker rooms beneath the rumble of spectator stands. They were huddled in a circle in front of the door, a hand each, extended into the center and unwavering looks of determination etched deep onto their faces.

No one uttered a word for a good minute; they just stared at one another with as much backbone as they could muster. Captain Ron nodded once, and with a loud “FIGHT!”, the rest of the team punched their fists into the air and marched out into the deafening roar and dizzying flash of scarlet and gold. They waved their arms confidently at the crazed crowd and finally came to a halt when they reached the center of the pitch where the referee was standing stoutly with a large wooden crate sitting by her feet.

None of the players could hear their names being announced owing to the screaming fans and the roaring Gryffindor flags, yet they weren’t surprised in the least. After all, this was the first and most important kick-off game of the year. One loss would mean nothing unequal to the loss of the Quidditch House Cup. And they could not lose. Not this year.

The Gryffindor team looked every part the brave, warrior-esque covey; more lion-like then any other moment in all their history. The sight would have made Godric Gryffindor very proud.

The seven player’s faces hardened when the doors on the opposite side of the field were thrown open, and seven more players, clad in green came strutting forward. Heads high, nastily smirking, and looking just as dangerous.

The two teams stepped toward the other, perfectly aligned player to player as Madam Hooch raised the magical megaphone to her mouth, her wand pointed at the ready.

“Captains, shake hands!” she commanded.

Ron, tall and gangly, and Montague, short and burley, stepped forward and thrust out their hands with looks of pure hatred on both faces. It was hard to tell who looked more intimidating despite the extremity of differences between the two captains.

Harry shifted his gaze from Ron back to Malfoy, who was standing a foot before him, staring at Harry with eyes that were as venomous as basilisk fangs. His pale face was smeared with a sneer that would have sent any normal being cowering to the shadows, yet Harry stood his ground. He returned the animosity with as much fury and flame as his opponent.

“May the best team win.” thin lips curled upward as they formed the silent words.

“May the best team win.” he responded back, his fingers clenched around his Firebolt in a death grip.

“Players on your mark -”

He lifted his broom and tilted it skywards.

“Get set -”

He threw his right leg over the handle.
“And PLAY!”

Fourteen players and three balls shot up into the air like fireworks.

“They’re off!” A commentator screeched above the noise.

Harry lost no time in rising to an altitude of fifty feet, leaving the rest of the world behind him in a mad blur of colors, and once obtaining enough height to see every inch of the pitch within his vision, his search for the flash of gold began.

The quicker he found the Snitch, the less penalties they’d have to be condemned with.

As the minutes passed by, reverberating shouts and screams could be heard from below, and Harry spared moments in his search to see Bludgers knocking players off their brooms, breaking arms, winding stomachs and specks of blood flying through the air like sprinklers on a summer lawn.

It was barbaric. There was simply no other word to describe it.

Harry winced and felt a lurch of sickness when he saw Goyle hammer a Bludger that crashed into Andrew’s shoulder, and the excruciating expression that spliced Andrew’s face as he tumbled sideways off his broom and fell headfirst to the ground. The crowd roared in anger.

Then, Dean cracked that same Bludger back at Goyle and it promptly collided heavily with his jaw and he too was unseated from his broomstick. It had only been five minutes since the start of the game and already two players were down. Just as Ron had assumed, the Slytherin team was definitely looking startled at the aggressiveness of the Gryffindor team and their planned tactics were abandoned. Everyone was just zooming about the field in an attempt to keep themselves alive. The whole pitch was a complete chaos.

Harry himself had to dodge numerous Bludgers and hurtling players while keeping his eye open for the Snitch at the same time. Just when he’d think he’d seen a glimmer of gold, he’d be distracted by another cry from the spectators as a player was injured.

No one seemed to be listening to Madam Hooch who was constantly blowing her whistle to award endless penalties; the game went on as if this was what Quidditch was all about. Blood, blood, and more blood.

Ten minutes later, Warrington was down. Dennis was down. Nott was down. There were now only a total of nine players in the air. If Harry didn’t find that Snitch soon...

Another clang and a clamor of hissing. The score was sixty to fifty, Slytherins in the lead.

Harry hardly noticed the fact that the Slytherin Seeker had been hovering in Harry’s shadow since the start of the game; blonde hair in slight disarray and grey eyes wide with fear. More than a few times, he’d let out a high-pitched shriek as a savage Bludger streaked past him, trying to knock him out of the air. Harry of course hardly noticed any of this. He was too busy concentrating (or trying to, at least) on other more important things.

He ducked as another Bludger came at him, grazing the tips of his hair as it missed. Harry gripped his broom tightly in his sweaty fingers, gulping and feeling very unsafe. How many more of these could he possibly avoid?

And just as he thought that, there was another uprise and he caught a fleeting glance of Ron flying off his Cleansweep with his arms flailing like a windmill.

Oh shit. Harry thought, finally panicking. RON!!!

Without their keeper, they were most definitely dead meat.

SNITCH. SNITCH. SNITCH.
There was nothing else that Gryffindor could do now, with only four players. It was all up to Harry.

And just as he was about to make an about turn to head over to the other side of the pitch, a Bludger came out of nowhere; he tried to swerve out of the way, but his Firebolt lurched backwards, followed by a scream from somewhere behind him and he whirled his head around to find Malfoy clinging to his scarlet robes and ducking behind him as the black ball shot at them like a canon.

“LET GO MALFOY!!!” Harry bellowed, his heart stopping cold in his chest. “MAL-”

CRACK!

A world of swirling stars, and he slumped forward, the pain in his skull beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life. An inky darkness began to invade his vision and he slipped... down... down... down... screams... or was that the wind whistling in his ears?

He felt his body slamming into the damp earth, spraying water everywhere. His robes were instantly soaked and he knew that he would most certainly have innumerable broken bones, if not paralysis for life. But oddly, either due to the said paralysis or unconsciousness, he could not feel any of the pain that he ought to have been feeling.

He would have concluded that his body was entirely numb, if it weren’t for the fact that he could feel the cold grass under his hands and against his cheek. He could feel the water dripping off his face and hair. He could feel his own warm breath coming out of his mouth. And he could feel the familiar struggle of the Snitch’s wings in his tight grasp.

Snitch? Harry’s eyes sprang open and he cast a look down at his gloved hand that was outstretched to the side, buried deep in the tufts of grass; and sure enough, a pair of silver wings were protruding from between his fingers, fluttering madly and wriggling to free itself.

Huh?? A voice in his head cried out in utter bewilderment. When the hell did I catch THAT???

Suddenly, something black and something very scruffy pounced onto his chest, winding him as thoroughly as a well aimed Bludger. He felt a hot wet something slathering his face and the distinct smell of dog breath in his nostrils.

He shouted out in shock and rolled over to escape his attacker, still clutching the Snitch in one hand and apparently his Firebolt in the other.

“Oh please, desist will you?” a drawling voice said from above, not more than a few feet away.

The licking stopped and Harry immediately scrambled to his unsteady feet, brandishing his broomstick out in front of him like a sword.

The sight that met his eyes made his mouth drop open and his Firebolt to fall with a thud onto the earth.

Malfoy was kneeling on the ground next to a huge black dog, a sarcastic, yet fond look on his face as he scratched the thick ears of the animal, who was barking and jumping about happily.

Harry spluttered, swaying dangerously on his feet, and he staggered backwards.

“Si - Si - Si -” His heart was thudding against his ribcage so loudly that he couldn’t even hear his own voice. And that was when he noticed that Malfoy wasn’t wearing Quidditch robes, that the whole pitch was deadly silent - not a single spectator to be seen - only them.

Malfoy raised his head to look at Harry and he raised an eyebrow coolly.

“Something wrong?” the blonde asked, standing up.

But Harry couldn’t string two coherent syllables together.

“Sir -” his voice choked out. “Sirius??”

The dog stopped jumping and faced him with curious eyes, as if saying ‘What?’.

In the next moment, there was a soft swishy sort of noise and the dog’s figure began to stretch out and elongate, upwards; legs growing longer and snout flattening out; coarse hair disappearing and it’s place, pale skin and black cloth.

Harry was now staring at a very healthy looking Sirius Black.

“You okay, Harry?” the man asked concernedly, stepping forward and reaching a hand out toward his shoulder.

Harry’s whole body trembled uncontrollably as he stood immobile, breath beginning to come in short unnatural gasps and head pounding from the lack of oxygen in his veins.

“Harry?” the voice came more urgently.

The last thing he saw before the world finally blacked out, was Sirius and Malfoy throwing their arms out as his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.

TBC...

A/N
I know I promised slash this chapter, but I couldn’t fit it in quite yet! I’m terribly sorry! But don’t worry, the next chapter, you’ll get what I promised, I promise. :)

Please review! Thank you very very much!
Hope everyone had a great New Years’s:)