Harry Potter 01 - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

mind – he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours – but the expression on Snape’s face when Harry had seen his leg wasn’t easy to forget.
    *
    The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.
    ‘You’ve got to eat some breakfast.’
    ‘I don’t want anything.’
    ‘Just a bit of toast,’ wheedled Hermione.
    ‘I’m not hungry.’
    Harry felt terrible. In an hour’s time he’d be walking on to the pitch.
    ‘Harry, you need your strength,’ said Seamus Finnigan. ‘Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team.’
    ‘Thanks, Seamus,’ said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.
    By eleven o’clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.
    Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colours.
    Meanwhile, in the changing rooms, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).
    Wood cleared his throat for silence.
    ‘OK, men,’ he said.
    ‘And women,’ said Chaser Angelina Johnson.
    ‘And women,’ Wood agreed. ‘This is it.’
    ‘The big one,’ said Fred Weasley.
    ‘The one we’ve all been waiting for,’ said George.
    ‘We know Oliver’s speech by heart,’ Fred told Harry. ‘We were in the team last year.’
    ‘Shut up, you two,’ said Wood. ‘This is the best team Gryffindor’s had in years. We’re going to win. I know it.’
    He glared at them all as if to say, ‘Or else.’
    ‘Right. It’s time. Good luck, all of you.’
    Harry followed Fred and George out of the changing room and, hoping his knees weren’t going to give way, walked on to the pitch to loud cheers.
    Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch, waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.
    ‘Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you,’ she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth-year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.
    ‘Mount your brooms, please.’
    Harry clambered on to his Nimbus Two Thousand.
    Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.
    Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.
    ‘And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too –’
    ‘JORDAN!’
    ‘Sorry, Professor.’
    The Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.
    ‘And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he’s going to sc – no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and Gryffindor take the Quaffle – that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by Slytherin – that’s Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes – she’s really flying – dodges a speeding Bludger – the goalposts are ahead – come on, now, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!’
    Gryffindor cheers filled