Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

supporters, but much applause for their Beater from the Ravenclaw end. George Weasley vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in mid-air to avoid it.
    ‘Gryffindor lead by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter’s really putting it through its paces now. See it turn – Chang’s Comet is just no match for it. The Firebolt’s precision-balance is really noticeable in these long –’
    ‘JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!’
    Ravenclaw were pulling back; they had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead – if Cho got the Snitch before him, Ravenclaw would win. Harry dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser, scanning the pitch frantically. A glint of gold, a flutter of tiny wings – the Snitch was circling the Gryffindor goalpost …
    Harry accelerated, eyes fixed on the speck of gold ahead – but next second, Cho had appeared out of thin air, blocking him –
    ‘HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!’ Wood roared, as Harry swerved to avoid a collision. ‘KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!’
    Harry turned and caught sight of Cho; she was grinning. The Snitch had vanished again. Harry turned his Firebolt upwards and was soon twenty feet above the game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cho following him … she’d decided to mark him rather than search for the Snitch herself. Right then … if she wanted to tail him, she’d have to take the consequences …
    He dived again, and Cho, thinking he’d seen the Snitch, tried to follow. Harry pulled out of the dive very sharply, she hurtled downwards; he rose fast as a bullet once more, and then saw it, for the third time: the Snitch was glittering way above the pitch at the Ravenclaw end.
    He accelerated; so, many feet below, did Cho. He was winning, gaining on the Snitch with every second – then –
    ‘Oh!’ screamed Cho, pointing.
    Distracted, Harry looked down.
    Three Dementors, three tall, black, hooded Dementors, were looking up at him.
    He didn’t stop to think. Plunging a hand down the neck of his robes, he whipped out his wand and roared, ‘Expecto patronum!’
    Something silver white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand. He knew it had shot directly at the Dementors but didn’t pause to watch; his mind still miraculously clear, he looked ahead – he was nearly there. He stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.
    Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded, Harry turned around in mid-air and saw six scarlet blurs bearing down on him. Next moment, the whole team were hugging him so hard he was nearly pulled off his broom. Down below he could hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd.
    ‘That’s my boy!’ Wood kept yelling. Alicia, Angelina and Katie had all kissed Harry, and Fred had him in a grip so tight Harry felt as though his head would come off. In complete disarray, the team managed to make its way back to the ground. Harry got off his broom and looked up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supporters sprinting onto the pitch, Ron in the lead. Before he knew it, he had been engulfed by the cheering crowd.
    ‘Yes!’ Ron yelled, yanking Harry’s arm into the air. ‘Yes! Yes!’
    ‘Well done , Harry!’ said Percy, looking delighted. ‘Ten Galleons to me! Must find Penelope, excuse me –’
    ‘Good on you, Harry!’ roared Seamus Finnigan.
    ‘Ruddy brilliant!’ boomed Hagrid over the heads of the milling Gryffindors.
    ‘That was quite some Patronus,’ said a voice in Harry’s ear.
    Harry turned around to see Professor Lupin, who looked both shaken and pleased.
    ‘The Dementors didn’t affect me at all!’ Harry said excitedly. ‘I didn’t feel a thing!’
    ‘That would be because they – er – weren’t Dementors,’ said Professor Lupin. ‘Come and see –’
    He led Harry out of the crowd until they were able to see the edge of the pitch.
    ‘You gave Mr Malfoy quite a fright,’ said Lupin.
    Harry stared. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes. It looked as though Malfoy had been standing on Goyle’s shoulders. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, was Professor