Dreams Are Falling Short

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ron streak off towards the goalhoops.

“And it’s Johnson – Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I’ve been saying it for years but she still won’t go out with me –“

“JORDAN!” yelled McGonagall.

“ – just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest – and she’s ducked Warrington, she’s passed Montague, she’s – ouch – been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe... Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and – nice Bludger than from George Weasley, that’s a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Corey Samuels, and Samuels is away –“

Lee Jordan’s commentary rang through the stadium and I concentrated on flying the Quaffle to the goalhoops.

“-dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger – close call, Corey – and the crowd are loving this, just listen to the, what’s that they’re singing?”

And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

‘Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That’s why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
‘Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King.’

“-and Corey passes back to Angelina!” Lee shouted, and as I kept flying, making sure Angelina always had someone to throw to, I knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. “Come on now, Angelina – looks like she’s got just the Keeper to beat! – SHE SHOOTS – SHE – aaaah...”

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Katie and I, the singing form the crowd grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.

‘Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King.'

"- and it’s Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he’s out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead –“

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:

‘Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring...’

“ – so it’s the first test fro the new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team – come on, Ron!”

But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins’ end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ron’s central hoop.

“Slytherin score!” came Lee’s voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, “so that’s ten-nil to Slytherin – bad luck, Ron.”

-

Harry caught the Snitch and we were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won –

WHAM.

I watched as a Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forwards off his broom. Luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch. Madam Hooch blew her shrill whistle and an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering filled the air.

I ran up to Harry, my voice frantic as I asked him if he was alright.

“Course I am,” said Harry grimly, taking my hand and allowing me to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming towards one of the Slytherin players above us.

“It was that thug Crabbe,” Isaid angrily, “he whacked the Bldger at you the moment he saw you’d got the Snitch - but we won, Harry, we won!”

I heard a snort from behind me and turned around: Draco had landed close by. White-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer. I wondered what happened to the guy he was when he was around just me when he was with other people.

“Saved Weasley’s neck, haven’t you?” he said to Harry. “I’ve never seen a worse Keeper... but then he was born in a bin... did you like my lyrics, Potter?”

Harry didn’t answer, nor did I. We turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph; all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and seemed to be making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.

“We wanted to write another couple of verses!” Malfoy called, as I jump hugged the twins. “But we couldn’t find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, see – “

“Talk about sour grapes,” said Angelina, casting Malfoy a disgusted look.

“ – we couldn’t fit in useless loser either – for his father, you know –“

Fred and George had realised what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry’s hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malfoy.

“Leave it!” I said at once, taking Fred by the arm. “Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he’s just sore he lost, the jumped-up little –“

“but you like the Weasleys, don’t you, Potter?” said Malfoy, sneering. “Spend holidays there and everything, don’t you? Can’t see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you’ve been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasley’s hovel smells OK –“

Harry grabbed hold of George. Meanwhile, I had quickly tackled Fred to the ground by delivering a blow to the back of his knee with my leg, causing him to lose his balance and allowing me to push him to the ground. I pressed my body against him using all my weight to try and keep him down. Fred let out an angry growl and struggled under me.

“Or perhaps,” said Malfoy, leering as he back away, “you can remember what your mother’s house stank like, Potter, and Weasley’s pigsty reminds you of it –“

Harry and George both sprinted at Malfoy, and Fred tried his best to join them, trying everything to push me off, but I held my ground, not letting him move. With the hand that still held the Snitch, Harry drew back his fist and sank it into Malfoy’s stomach.

“Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!”

I could her girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd around us, but I couldn’t concentrate on much more than Fred, who was raising his voice and telling me to let him go.

Someone yelled “Impedimenta!” and I out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry and George, who were still attacking George, get knocked over backwards by the force of the spell.

“What do you think you’re doing?” screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leapt to his feet. It seemed to have been her who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx, she was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other; her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still under my restraint and Crabbe was cackling in the background. “I’ve never seen behaviour like it – back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House’s office! Go! Now!”

Harry and George turned on their heels and marched off the pitch. I looked back down at Fred, who was panting from all the struggling and who I had pinned under me. We made eye contact and just stared at each other.

I hit my forehead against his chest, before saying, “God damn it, Weasley, why can’t you just control yourself?”

I sat up, one leg on either side of him, and he just looked at me.

“Get a room you two!” someone yelled at us and we both quickly scrambled to our feet.