Week Three: The Quidditch Match of DOOM, An Alternative Perspective Production Options

[moonbeam3243]

People seem to want to keep this thing going, so here's a new topic for the third week, during the quidditch match when Harry's broom bounces out of control!

[ronsmyman]

Quirrell's First Quidditch Match

Quirrell awoke in a fever around noon, the day after the disaster of Halloween. He hadn’t been allowed to sleep until nearly six that morning. His bones felt as if they had melted and he lay in bed for nearly an hour before he could even summon enough strength to twitch a finger. When he finally did move his index finger, waves of pain shot through his body, almost as strong as another Cruciatus Curse.

He lay in bed until his master began growling at him. He got up amid torrents of pain, that had been lying in wait to spring upon him. At that moment, Quirrell made a pledge to himself, he would do whatever it took to make the Dark Lord happy, he could not fail again.

********

Days passed and Quirrell’s pain began to ebb away, soon it was almost all gone. By Friday, he was able to move from his chair into a standing position as he taught his class. While he was conquering this feat, he heard his students whispering about the Quidditch match that would take place on the following morning. A thought struck him. This would be the perfect time to show his master how useful a servant he was.

********

The next morning Quirrell joined the ranks of eager students pushing their way towards the Quidditch pitch. Eager for a good view of the game, Quirrell forewent sitting in the teacher’s stands and situated himself among the Gryffindor students. It was a bright morning though dreadfully cold. Quirrell was glad, for one, to have the turban keeping his body heat.

The students swarmed around him, staring at the teacher sitting in the midst of them. Teachers didn’t usually sit in the stands, half of the teachers didn’t even attend the matches. None of the students had ever seen Quirrell in attendance prior to this event. Quirrell didn’t mind this though, he knew that in a few minutes they would be so distracted by something else that they wouldn’t even remember that he had been there.

Finally the torrents of students calmed down and settled into their seats. Madame Hooch flew to the center of the pitch, blew a whistle and the balls were thrown into action. Quirrell watched the game with disinterestedness. He was not a big Quidditch fan, and never had been. He didn’t understand the mechanics of the game very well, and didn’t see how tossing a ball around was preferable to wrestling a nice strong troll.

He did watch every movement of the players, one in particular. He sat, his eyes zooming around the field as fast as the broomsticks, deaf to the world around him. He was waiting for the opportune moment. Suddenly a player from the Slytherin team smashed into Harry Potter on his way to grab the snitch, he knew now would be the best time to act.

Muttering under his breath he fixed his eyes on Harry Potter.

********

Voldemort wondered why on earth this putrescent worm had forced him to come to a Quidditch match, and furthermore, why the moron had insisted upon sitting among the students, rather than the much roomier staff seating, and not just any students, it had to be the Gryffindors, those foolishly loyal and brave brats, giving no consequence to anyone but themselves, bent on making the world better, but only for themselves, no thoughts for those of a more sinister disposition.

The stench of their valor overwhelmed the Dark Lord, he would have been gagging if he had had an esophagus. Then he began to sense something going on in Quirrell’s body, it was not mere indigestion, but a strong power was going out of him. Very quietly he could hear Quirrell muttering an incantation.

********

Quirrell’s curse flung Harry high into the air, so high that it was hard to keep his eyes on the little dot he had become. He had the vision of a hawk though, something that was required in his malicious line of work. He could see that Harry was dangling by one hand from his broom stick. He smiled evilly and was summoning up strength for one good jolt, that would certainly unseat the boy, when he was suddenly pushed head first into the row in front of him, as someone rather rude rushed past, he couldn’t stop falling, he rolled down the rows of seats, knocking students out of his way as he went. Finally his head hit the metal guard rail and he came to a rest right at the edge of the stands.

********

Hours later, Quirrell woke up in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey holding a cold compress to his head.

“There, there, professor,” she said. “You took quite a nasty spill, rolling down all of those rows. I’m surprised you weren’t worse off, perhaps it was all the padding in that turban of yours that saved you.”

Quirrell sat up a bit dizzily and tenderly touched the side of his head, it had swelled to about three times its normal size. He tried to remember what had happened, then the quidditch game came rushing back. He pushed himself into a standing position and walked slowly out of the hospital wing, making his was towards his room.

“That’s the last time I ever go to a sporting event,” Quirrell griped, before he remembered that he had just failed another task. A slow growl gathered volume on the back of his head. Quirrell, stiffened, and braced himself for what he knew was coming. However, it didn’t come.

“I am too weak to punish you now vermin,” Voldemort growled. “I have been beaten and bashed, and I’m still recovering from my rage last week. But when I do get my strength back, you’ll be sorry.”

Boy would he be sorry.

[bakbam]

Slytherin Pride


The word throughout the school was that Harry Potter was the new Gryffindor seeker. Severus was not concerned that Harry was to be seeker. For crying out loud he has lived with muggles for 10 years. He hasn't even seen a real Quidditch match played, Severus thought as he walked through the courtyard onto the school grounds.

Severus noticed Harry and his friends sitting outside. I will see just how confident Mr. Potter is about the match tomorrow.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?" Severus asked Harry expecting that Harry would say nothing. Severus looked the book over, "Library books are not to be taken out of the school. Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor." Severus put the book in his robes. With a victorious limp in his step he proceeded to the castle.

********

The first Quidditch match of the year. Severus was pleased with this years Slytherin team. He felt there was no way they could be beat especially by the Gryffindor team. Severus found a nice spot in the stands just in time to see the players enter onto the field.

The Slytherin team strided out first. The green and silver robes swaying in the wind. Severus was feeling very proud of the team he worked hard to recruit.

The Gryffindor team swamped the field with excitement, very much differently from the way the Slytherin's had. Severus immediately sneered when he saw Harry in the gold and burgundy robes. He will make a fool of Poor Minerva. I still can't believe Albus allowed a first year on the team. Their loss.

The game started. Severus was engulfed in the game. He so wished he had been talented on a broom. He could barely get from one spot to the next without falling off. There was no possible way he could ever do special moves and tricks on a broom.

"Gryffindor scores!"

Severus' emotionless face turned sour. After the first points were scored Severus decided to check out Harry on a broom. He was amazed as he peered in the sky and saw Harry gliding through the air with grace. He flies like James did. Why does this boy have to be so much like his father. His mother, now there was a great woman....I could stand the boy if he had more of Lily in him.

Severus was buried in thought. He didn't even notice the score. As he came out of his trace like state the first thing he saw was Harry fighting to stay atop his broom. He pulled his binoculars out of his robes to get a better look.

Severus knew instantly that it was some sort of jinx causing Harry's broom to jerk around. I don't want to win because the seeker fell from a jinxed broom. I would love to see Harry fall. I can't let the boy fall. His father saved me years ago and this would be a way to repay my debt.

Without another thought Severus started chanting a counter-curse. At first it seemed to help, but the person respondsable for the original curse soon realized that counter measures were being taken, and seemed to be working harder to make Harry fall.

There were a few times that Severus slowed his curse and Harry almost fell. It was then that Severus wound strive to end the ordeal.

Severus almost succeeded until he felt a burning sensation on his feet. He jumped up from his seat and danced around looking for the cause of the pain. He made such a ruccus that the people sitting closest to him scrambled out of his way.

Severus looked around at all the faces then sat back down peering directly up at the place Harry was. The broom had stopped jittering and Harry had climbed back ontop it. Severus let out a sigh of relief.

Harry jolted downward from his spot in the sky. He reached his hand out then toppled over and landed on all fours. He motioned as if he were going to be sick then the Golden Snitch fell from his mouth. Harry held up the snitch in shock.

Severus sat down and put his head in his hands. I should have let him fall. Gryffindor beat us. A first year student beat my team. Severus' face was red and you could see the anger in his eyes as he walked back up to the school.

Severus went straight to the headmaster's office to inform Dumbledore about the jinxed broom. Dumbledore let Severus in and offered him a seat. Severus sat and Dumbledore started with small chat.

"Sir, Someone at the match was putting a jinx on Harry's broom," Severus knew this would get Dumbldore's attention.

"Is he alright?" Dumbledore asked as he stood ready to head for the door.

"He is fine. The person must've lost eye contact," Severus intentionally left out the burning sensation on his feet.

"Good, Good. So did Harry live up to his father?" Dumbledore gave Severus a curious look.

"You could say that," Severus answered curtly. "I don't know who or why the broom was jinxed, but I thought you would want to look into that. Good day." Severus left the office almost as aggravated as when he got there. Severus' face was red and you could see the anger in his eyes as he walked back up to the school.

[McGonagall's Cat]

A November Morn in '91


“Th’ frost sure is invigeratin’, in’nit it Fang?” Hagrid said as the big dog bounded past him toward the Quidditch pitch. A fat towel, the size of a blanket, was slung over his shoulder as he strode toward the broom corral. He whistled as he walked, leaving a stream of breath-clouds that resembled a steam engine’s passage.

Defrosting the brooms was an important part of Hagrid’s duties. If it was done too early, they would frost themselves back up. If it was done too close to the time they were due to be used, they would be cold and sluggish. With too rough of handling and they would not respond to the students’ commands. Today he was especially careful as some of these brooms would be used in the Slytherin – Gryffindor match later on.

Hagrid was as excited as a child at Christmas!. This would be young Harry’s first real match. He just knew Harry’d do great. Images of James Potter on a broom zoomed around in his memories. “Yep, ‘s in ‘is blood,” Hagrid said out loud to the third broom he was carefully wiping the frost from.



Later

Across the way Hagrid could hear the Match starting up. He grabbed his huge binoculars from the hook on the back of the door and tried to see what he could of it from his hut. Tiny red clad figures jousted with tiny green clad ones. A green-clad one was making a drive toward the Gryffindor goal. He could see what had to be Wood block the forceful attempt to score at the last possible moment.

“Fang, I’m sorry, but I gotta go watch this, “ he said as he patted the dog while rushing off to the Pitch.

__(,, ,,*>

“Budge up there, move along.” he shuffled his way along the top row to squeeze in between Neville and Hermione.

“Hagrid!” Ron and Hermione said in unison while scooting over.

“Bin watchin’ from me hut,” said Hagrid, patting his binoculars. “But it isn’t the same as bein’ in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?”

“Nope,” said Ron. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.”

<*,, ,,)__

Hagrid was excited, getting in the spirit of the game. “Ron, yeh think he’ll do a’right? How’s that’ new broom of his?” Hagrid chattered on as Angelina Johnson went swooping past them with the quaffle. “Was he a’right at lunch an all?”

Ron flicked his glance away from Harry for a moment to Hagrid. "He wouldn't eat anything, but who can blame him?" he said quickly, " He loves his new broom; he’s been practicing on it for a while. I've even ridden it a time or two. It's perfect!"

Just then Harry made a radical dive apparently after the Snitch, only to be fouled by Marcus Flint. Outrage erupted from three quarters of the stands. Madam Hootch blasted her whistle. People were shouting. Ron said something about Quidditch not being soccer to Dean Thomas, and when Hagrid heard Dean’s explanation, he liked the sounds of the soccer rule. The conversation dissolved as the game resumed after the penalty shot.

Neville jerked on Hagrid’s sleeve and pointed at Harry, high above the rest of the game.

“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid said with alarm. He stared through his binoculars. “If I didn’ know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his broom…. but he can’t have…” Ron mumble something like "No, he can't have," but Hagrid was too distracted for much beyond Harry’s erratic broom-ridding to register.

The noise level in the stadium dropped to complete silence. Flint was still flying around, but all the other players hung motionless in mid-air, looking up at Harry whose broom jerked completely out of control. The Weasley twins raced over to do what they could to help, but it seemed the closer they came the more out of control Harry’s broom became. Neville buried his face in Hagrid’s coat, obviously upset. Without even realizing it, Hagrid was patting Neville’s back comfortingly as he gaped skyward.

Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the problem was over. Harry was on his broom and racing as fast as he could, straight toward the ground. “He’s got to’ve spotted the Snitch!” Hagrid shouted, almost tromping on Neville’s foot in his excitement. The next moment Harry abruptly pulled his broom to a halt barely a foot from the ground, and fell off looking as though he was going to lose his lunch. He seemed to heave a couple times, and then threw his fist high in the air displaying the little fluttery wings of a Snitch protruding from between his fingers. The stadium went crazy, especially Marcus Flint who was very red in the face and gesticulating wildly to Madam Hootch .

“I think we should get Harry out of here, take him to my place. Find out what that stunt was all abou’,” Hagrid said to Ron and Hermione as they shuffled through the crush of ecstatic spectators.






{between the __(,, ,,*> <*,, ,,)__ is JKR's.... and you may notice some cross-over conversations with Ron }

[moonbeam3243]

Ron on the Sidelines

"Come ON," Hermione called. Ron squeezed through some fifth years that were necking in the back of the stands and slid in beside Hermione.

"You got it?" Ron asked Dean Thomas. Dean nodded and pulled out an old sheet. He'd painted a really well done lion beside the words "Potter for President" on the sheet. It had been Ron and Hermione's idea, but everyone in the dorm had tried to help them put it together. Hermione breathed a word at the sheet, pointing her wand at the lettering, and the paint started to flash different colors.

"Here he comes! Here he comes!" Neville shouted, pointing. Sure enough, both teams were emerging out of the locker rooms. Harry came last, looking very small and dejected. Ron and the rest of them started to shout and wave the banner around. Harry seemed to buck up a bit at that.

The teams mounted their brooms and started flying into the air. As Jordan started his commentary, Ron turned to Dean. "You got the rules?" he asked. Dean nodded, eyes wide open and staring at the racing brooms across the pitch. "So, heh, you admit this is better than that muggle game, right?" Dean continued to nod, slightly open-mouthed.

"Budge up there, move along," a voice said below them.

"Hagrid!" Ron and Hermione said at the same time. Hagrid grinned in reply. Ron scooted closer to Hermione to give Hagrid room to stand.

“Bin watchin’ from me hut,” said Hagrid, patting his binoculars. “But it isn’t the same as bein’ in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?”

“Nope,” said Ron. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.” He glanced back up just as Harry attempted a nice little loop-de-loop. That broom was tight.

Hagrid was excited, getting in the spirit of the game. “Ron, yeh think he’ll do a’right? How’s that’ new broom of his?” Hagrid chattered on as Angelina Johnson went swooping past them with the quaffle. “Was he a’right at lunch an all?”

Ron flicked his glance away from Harry for a moment to Hagrid. "He wouldn't eat anything, but who can blame him?" he said quickly, " He loves his new broom; he’s been practicing on it for a while. I've even ridden it a time or two. It's perfect!"

And perfect, Ron thought to himself, was an understatement. The last time Harry let him ride it, Ron had tried to see how fast he could make the broom go... and he'd nearly knocked himself off the broom in the process.

As if he were reading Ron's thoughts, Harry suddenly dived straight down through the sky, followed closely by Marcus Flint. Hermione latched onto Ron's arm painfully. The whole stand seemed to hold its breath...until Flint blocked Harry and almost knocked him off the broom.

Ron, who had been following quidditch all his life, was only mildly disgruntled. He jeered and yelled with the rest of them, but when Dean started chattering about that muggle game again, Ron felt it only necessary to remind him that quidditch was a much different sport.

"Oh!" Hermione gave a little gasp of surprise. Ron looked back up to where Harry had been almost the entire time, safely above the game and out of the way. He was still above the game and out of the way, but certainly no longer safely. His broom bucked up into the air and Harry's legs flayed out spastically around him, then landed back down on the handle with a thump that Ron could almost hear.

Something was wrong.

Ron cast a quick glance at Hermione. Without speaking, they both came to the same conclusion. This wasn't right; something, something was up.

“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid said with alarm. He stared through his binoculars. “If I didn’ know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his broom…. but he can’t have…”

Ron raised one red eyebrow, but Hagrid didn't see it. "No, he can't have," he muttered significantly to Hermione. Her return gaze was all the answer he needed. They had to do something.

Ron started to scan the stands, his eyes going first for the area where the teachers were seated. He could pick out Snape, but just barely.

Beside him, Hermione grabbed Hagrid's binoculars and followed Ron's gaze exactly.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, his eyes already back on Harry. His brothers circled below, clearly unable to help. Harry was clutching to his broom with all his strength.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape--look."

Hermione handed Ron the binoculars. Hagrid, who was comforting Neville, seemed to hardly notice the two of them hogging his binoculars. Ron pointed them at Snape. Snape's still, unblinking image seemed to stand out and scream for his attention. Ron started to say something to Hermione, but she was already reaching into her robes for her wand.

"He's doing something--jinxing the broom," said Hermione authoritatively. For once, Ron didn't mind her know-it-all tone. He just hoped she really DID know it all and could stop the spell.

"What should we do?" he asked. Someone in front of him gave out a chocked scream. Ron spared one more glance skyward and saw that Harry was higher than ever.

"Leave it to me," Hermione said. She was already pushing her way through the crowd.

"Leave it to her?" Ron mumbled angrily at her back, "What am I? Chopped liver?" Ron reached for his own wand and drew it. He even went so far as to point it at Harry's broom, but he knew already that Harry was too small a target and besides, Ron had no idea what to do to counter the curse.

Fred and George tried to race right up to Harry and pull him off the broom, but it shot even higher, entirely out of their reach.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered. He suddenly remembered how Harry hadn't eaten anything that day. He wished he hadn't.

Ron grabbed Hagrid's binocs again and scanned the stands for Hermione. There she was; Ron gave a sort of snorting laugh as he saw her light Snape's robes on fire with that neat little blue-fire spell.

Almost immediately, the stands gave a collective sigh of relief. Some people cheered. Harry swung back firmly on his broom again and started speeding to the ground, very fast but obviously in control of his broom again.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron shouted excitedly. Neville sniffed and looked up.

"He's got to have seen the snitch!" Hagrid shouted and Ron remembered with a start that they were still in the middle of a quidditch game.

Then Harry caught the snitch--albeit in a slightly unorthodox way--and Hermione came back to the stands and everyone was cheering and Harry waved the snitch in the air and Flint started yelling at Madame Hooch and the banner ripped right in half in the excitement, but Ron couldn't stop grinning and cheering with the rest of them.