Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

that Potter’s put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley’s patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help …’
    These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Harry craned round on his broom to look towards the commentator’s podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan’s; Harry recognised Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom he heartily disliked.
    ‘Oh, and here comes Slytherin’s first attempt on goal, it’s Urquhart streaking down the pitch and –’
    Harry’s stomach turned over.
    ‘– Weasley saves it, well, he’s bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose …’
    ‘That’s right, Smith, he is,’ muttered Harry, grinning to himself, as he dived amongst the Chasers with his eyes searching all around for some hint of the elusive Snitch.
    With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were leading sixty points to zero, Ron having made some truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of his gloves, and Ginny having scored four of Gryffindor’s six goals. This effectively stopped Zacharias wondering loudly whether the two Weasleys were only there because Harry liked them, and he started on Peakes and Coote instead.
    ‘Of course, Coote isn’t really the usual build for a Beater,’ said Zacharias loftily, ‘they’ve generally got a bit more muscle –’
    ‘Hit a Bludger at him!’ Harry called to Coote as he zoomed past, but Coote, grinning broadly, chose to aim the next Bludger at Harper instead, who was just passing Harry in the opposite direction. Harry was pleased to hear the dull thunk that meant the Bludger had found its mark.
    It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favourite Weasley is our King , he pretended to conduct them from on high.
    ‘Thinks he’s something special today, doesn’t he?’ said a snide voice, and Harry was nearly knocked off his broom as Harper collided with him hard and deliberately. ‘Your blood-traitor pal …’
    Madam Hooch’s back was turned, and though Gryffindors below shouted in anger, by the time she looked round Harper had already sped off. His shoulder aching, Harry raced after him, determined to ram him back …
    ‘And I think Harper of Slytherin’s seen the Snitch!’ said Zacharias Smith through his megaphone. ‘Yes, he’s certainly seen something Potter hasn’t!’
    Smith really was an idiot, thought Harry, hadn’t he noticed them collide? But next moment, his stomach seemed to drop out of the sky – Smith was right and Harry was wrong: Harper had not sped upwards at random; he had spotted what Harry had not: the Snitch was speeding along high above them, glinting brightly against the clear blue sky.
    Harry accelerated; the wind was whistling in his ears so that it drowned all sound of Smith’s commentary or the crowd, but Harper was still ahead of him, and Gryffindor was only a hundred points up; if Harper got there first Gryffindor had lost … and now Harper was feet from it, his hand outstretched …
    ‘Oi, Harper!’ yelled Harry in desperation. ‘How much did Malfoy pay you to come on instead of him?’
    He did not know what made him say it, but Harper did a double take; he fumbled the Snitch, let it slip through his fingers and shot right past it: Harry made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.
    ‘YES!’ Harry yelled: wheeling round, he hurtled back towards the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand. As the crowd realised what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signalled the end of the game.
    ‘Ginny, where’re you going?’ yelled Harry, who had found himself trapped in the midst of a mass midair hug with the rest of the team, but Ginny sped right on past them until, with an almighty crash, she collided with the commentator’s podium. As the crowd shrieked and laughed, the Gryffindor team landed beside the wreckage of wood under which Zacharias was feebly stirring; Harry heard Ginny saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall, ‘Forgot to brake, Professor,