MetaFic

2 Nov 1991

“Three Weasleys on the team,” Neville interjected.  “When do you suppose was the last time so many players from one family were on a team?”

“Wasn’t there some professional league team once . . .?” Ron half-asked, half-guessed.  It was clear that his attention was on the game in progress rather than the banter amongst his friends.

“In other words,” Harry cut him off, “our Quidditch-mad friend doesn’t know an answer.”

Ron shrugged a bit before grinning, his eyes still on the players.  “Yeah, but I’ll know before the next game.”

A spate of giggling from in front of them accompanied flashes of black and blonde as the first-year Gryffindor girls glanced back at the boys before returning to whatever they were up to.  Seamus raised an eyebrow at Harry, who merely shrugged in response.  There was no way he was going to speculate on the cause of such sounds from such creatures.

“I still think they ought to bring in red cards,” Dean said from Seamus’ other side.  “It’s just not right that those guys can keep fouling like that on purpose, and all that happens is a penalty shot.”

Neville, Harry, and Seamus all agreed profusely, while Ron wondered aloud what they were talking about.  Since the redhead’s mind was almost entirely on the game, Harry told him they would explain it later.  

“Maybe we could come up with a magical version,” Neville said. “Like charming their hands to their heads for five minutes or something.”

“Now that’s an idea!” Seamus agreed.  “Then they could head-butt the Bludgers, and this’ll become a real sport!”

“We’re not playing rugby,” Harry groaned.  “I hate playing that game.”

“That’s only because you’re such a delicate fellow,” Seamus shot back.  “You’d play, wouldn’t you, Dean?”

Dean seemed to think about it for a long moment before he grinned.  “As long as Ron and Neville are on my team, sure.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry sat up a bit straighter.  “I’ll take Seamus, the Patils, and Macdonald.”  

All of the giggling stopped suddenly.

Emily Macdonald looked back at them with wide eyes.  “What?  We never agreed to anything!”

“So we get Brown and Dulcy?” Neville asked.  “Sounds fair.”

“Harry!” Lavender interrupted. “I don’t know how to play rugby!”

“See?” Seamus said with a vague wave at Emily. “It’s a done deal.”

The girls stared at them with a range of emotions. Amanda Dulcy looked surprised, Emily was visibly terrified, and the Patils wore expressions of speculative contemplation.  Lavender was clearly fretting over the idea, but she had yet to speak up for or against it.

“And how did you come up with those lots, Harry?” Padma finally asked.

“Easy,” he replied.  “After me, you’re the second fastest first-year in our house.  Your sister isn’t as fast, but she’s stronger.  The best part is that the two of you are hard to tell apart when you’re moving.  So with both of you on our team, we can plan to mess up their defence and offence.   Seamus is a right scrapper, so when it comes time to take the hit, we’ll make him do it.  And Emily and I can fill in whatever roles seem to be needed.  She seems to do pretty well at that in your study group, doesn’t she?”

Seamus whistled softly for a moment, and even Ron had turned away from the game to stare.

“What?” Harry asked, annoyed by everyone staring at him.

“You really have been paying attention, haven’t you?” Padma asked.  

Harry shrugged.  “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do in History.  What do you lot do?”

“AND WEASLEY IS DIVING FOR THE SNITCH!  LOOK AT HIGGS CLOSING IN! BOTH PLAYERS ARE –”  Lee’s announcing cut off all discussion as everyone focused on the game again.  

Percy was in a fast but somewhat shallow dive, which Harry thought was probably prudent with one of the school brooms.  He had a clear lead over Higgs, but the Slytherin’s broom was far faster, and the gap was closing quickly.  While the attention of the audience was mostly on the Seekers, Harry noticed that the Gryffindors kept running up the score with the Quaffle.  They had enough points that the loss of the Snitch would not create an insurmountable point deficit for the cup, provided that Slytherin lost at least one game, but Gryffindor really needed the catch to win the game.

Harry focused on Katie Bell, who scored on a perfect play right as the Snitch was caught . “WEASLEY CATCHES THE SNITCH!  GRYFFINDOR WINS!  470-360!”

As everyone around him rose and began cheering, Harry tried to stand, only to find that he was stuck fast to the stands.  

“Did you see that?!” Ron yelled at anyone who could hear him.  “It was awesome!”

Seamus looked down at Harry and raised one eyebrow.  “Problem?” he mouthed, since no one could talk over Ron’s shouts and yells.  Harry nodded, pointed to the seat beneath him, and mimed being stuck.  Seamus sat down next to him and leaned close to be heard clearly.  “Trousers, or full contact?”

“Full contact,” Harry half-shouted back. “I can’t slide around in my trousers at all.”

“Who did that?  The only Sticking Charm we know is for surface material.”

Harry shrugged.  “I can’t get my wand out because of the Charm – can you do the Finite on me?”

Seamus pulled his wand and cast the Cancelling Charm.  Unfortunately, it had no effect.  

“Damn,” Harry murmured.  “Guess I’ll be stuck here for a bit.”

As the cheering died down and people started gathering their things, the fact that Harry had been pranked became known amongst the group.  “Sorry, Harry,” Padma said with a smile, “looks like you’ll have to organise that rugby game another day.  Bye!”  The lot of five girls vanished into the dissipating crowd while Harry and the other boys laughed.

“Guess they believed you,” Neville said as the stands continued to empty.  “Wonder if one of them pulled the prank?”

Harry shrugged.  “Maybe.  It’ll just wear off in a bit.  You lot can take off, you know.”

Ron and Dean exchanged glances before nodding.  “Right,” Ron said.  “If you’re not back in the tower in a half-hour, I’ll ask Fred and George to come save you.”

“Oh, thanks,” Seamus laughed.  “Let’s just keep poking that dog with a sharp stick.”

Ron smiled in reply.  “Well, you did sort of start it.”  He took off with Dean, both of them discussing the merits of the red card and whether football and Quidditch could be combined.

“You know they’re going to end up at some kind of magical rugby,” Seamus pointed out.  “They have to.”

Neville sat down with his back to the railing, facing Harry and Seamus.  “How d’you figure that one, Seamus?”

“Quidditch is way too violent for footballers,” Seamus replied.  “The whole idea of kicking someone out for being too rough?  Nah.  No Quidditch player would listen to that.  The best you can do is make the game more fair.  Drop the value of the Snitch or increase the value of the Quaffle.”

“Yeah, you and your Da might be right about that,” Harry offered. “But rugby players aren’t being chased by cannon balls, either.”

“Not this again.  Do you really think any decent rugby player would care?” Seamus asked with a grin.

“Seamus is too reliant on magic fixing his face,” Neville suggested with a laugh.  “I bet a real rugby player would care about losing a limb instead of a tooth.”

Harry tuned out the good-natured debate between his friends as he watched the stadium completely drain.  Shortly after the last stragglers left the field, Harry felt the seat warm slightly.  “Whoa!” he said, standing up easily.  “I guess it just wore off.”

Seamus craned his neck around and looked everywhere.  “You didn’t see who was last into the castle, did you?”

“Nah,” Harry replied.  “I wasn’t paying that much attention to it.  Shall we go join the celebration?”

Neville stood up and stretched before turning towards the stairs.  “Ron said his brothers always had a party after games, didn’t he? I wonder where they get the food from.”

“Oh, that’s just one of the questions we can ask them,” Harry said with a nudge at Seamus.  “I’ll bet there’s more than one dessert on the menu tonight.”

“You think it was the twins?” Seamus asked.

“Well, who else would it be?  They’re the only ones who’ve pranked us since we got here.”

“What about Toadstool?” Neville asked as he started down the long staircase.

Harry followed his friend, thinking about it.  “Nah, he’s too inept.  I think it haaaaaaaaa –”

Harry was unable to stop the yell as two steps collapsed under him and he fell all the way to the hard ground below.  There was a distinct popping sound when he hit feet-first.  Then his head collided with his knees in a cataclysm of pain, and everything went crazy.

“Harry!” Seamus and Neville shouted.  He could hear thumping and knew someone was coming down the stairs.  He tried to look up at them, but he could not raise his head far enough.  The space beneath the stairs seemed to be swirling and shimmering, as though something were there but not there.  His head was killing him, and in a moment of detached clarity, he realised that he must have damaged his vision when he hit the ground.

“Mr Potter!”

Harry thought it might be McGonagall’s voice, but it was too hard to concentrate on anything.  He blinked once, slowly, and then the world became very, very dark.