Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded. Harry saw Madam Hooch’s mouth form the words, ‘Mount your brooms.’ He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant – they were off.
    Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain.
    Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his team-mates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He flew backwards and forwards across the pitch, past blurred red and yellow shapes, with no idea of what was happening in the rest of the game. He couldn’t hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas. Twice Harry came very close to being unseated by a Bludger; his vision was so clouded by the rain on his glasses he hadn’t seen them coming.
    He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Twice Harry nearly hit another player, without knowing whether it was a team-mate or opponent; everyone was now so wet, and the rain so thick, he could hardly tell them apart …
    With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle; Harry could just see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, gesturing him to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.
    ‘I called for time out!’ Wood roared at his team. ‘Come on, under here –’
    They huddled at the edge of the pitch under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes.
    ‘What’s the score?’
    ‘We’re fifty points up,’ said Wood, ‘but unless we get the Snitch soon, we’ll be playing into the night.’
    ‘I’ve got no chance with these on,’ Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses.
    At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming.
    ‘I’ve had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!’
    He handed them to her and, as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, ‘Impervius!’
    ‘There!’ she said, handing them back to Harry. ‘They’ll repel water!’
    Wood looked as though he could have kissed her.
    ‘Brilliant!’ he called hoarsely after her, as she disappeared into the crowd. ‘OK, team, let’s go for it!’
    Hermione’s spell had done the trick. Harry was still numb with cold, still wetter than he’d ever been in his life, but he could see. Full of fresh determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Diggory, who was streaking in the opposite direction …
    There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly –
    He turned, intending to head back towards the middle of the pitch, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely: the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.
    Harry’s numb hands slipped on the broom handle and his Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking his sodden fringe out of his eyes, he squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished.
    ‘Harry!’ came Wood’s anguished yell from the Gryffindor goalposts. ‘Harry, behind you!’
    Harry looked wildly around. Cedric Diggory was pelting up the pitch, and a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain-filled air between them …
    With a jolt of panic, Harry threw himself flat to the broom handle and zoomed towards the Snitch.
    ‘Come on!’ he growled at his Nimbus, as the rain whipped his face. ‘Faster!’
    But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf – what was going on?
    And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving on the pitch below