Harry grumbled something under his breath, somewhere between a mutter and a swear— it sounded a lot like the way Nurse Anna cursed people out.
The Great Hall had been especially lively lately.
It was the first Quidditch match of the season, after all.
And not just any match: Slytherin versus Gryffindor.
As eleven o'clock crept closer, the entire school began streaming toward the Quidditch pitch. The weather was hot and muggy, thunder rumbling faintly overhead.
"Good luck,"
Justin said to Harry as he headed into the changing room.
Everyone had come to watch— even Sean, mostly because he hadn't managed to find Dumbledore anywhere.
The Headmaster was in fact on the stands, winking down at him. Beside him sat a very gloomy-looking Snape and an equally grim McGonagall.
"The Slytherin team's brooms are better than ours, that's undeniable.
But the players on our brooms are better than theirs. We've trained harder than they have, flown in all kinds of weather—"
At the changing room door, Wood's voice was so loud that Sean and the others outside could hear every word.
"—we're going to make them regret letting that little brat Malfoy buy his way onto the team!"
Wood was so worked up his chest was heaving. He turned to Harry.
"Harry, you're the key! You show Malfoy that having a rich daddy isn't enough to make you a Seeker.
Either you catch the Snitch before he does, or you die on the pitch, Harry, because we have to win today, we have to win."
"He wants Harry to die on the pitch?!"
Ron stared, horrified.
"It's just an expression,"
Hermione said, frowning.
Only Sean quietly glanced at his wand, remembering that Dobby was supposed to meddle in this match.
If the Basilisk was already dealt with, and Dobby, in trying to save Harry, ended up nearly getting him killed instead…
That would be classic Scottish dark humour.
Up in the stands, the noise was deafening; Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs alike wanted to see Slytherin lose, while a constant stream of boos and jeers poured from the Slytherin section.
Madam Hooch invited Flint and Wood to shake hands. They glared at each other threateningly and squeezed far harder than necessary.
"Sean? What are you looking at?"
Rain began to fall. Justin's umbrella was faster than the downpour.
Up in the commentary box, Lee Jordan's excited voice rang out across the stadium, amplified by a Sonorus charm. With his binoculars, Justin soon understood what Sean was watching.
"Slytherin leads, sixty–nil! You have to admit, the Bludgers are absolutely vicious today— they must feel my misery. And why won't Angelina answer my—"
"Jordan!"
McGonagall's furious voice cut in.
"Sorry, Professor. Look! The Bludger almost took Harry's head off!"
Lee shouted.
"What's going on?"
On the pitch, Wood called loudly, as the Gryffindor players regrouped. The Slytherins in the crowd howled with laughter.
"We're getting slaughtered. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"
"We were twenty feet above her trying to stop the other Bludger from killing Harry, Wood.
Someone's tampered with it— it won't leave Harry alone, it's been after him the whole match and ignoring everyone else. Slytherin must've done something to it."
George said angrily.
"Listen. If you two keep circling me nonstop, I'll have no hope of catching the Snitch unless it flies straight into my sleeve.
Go back to protecting everyone else and let me deal with that maniac Bludger."
Harry said. Off to the side, Madam Hooch was signalling, clearly considering investigating.
"Don't be stupid, it'll smash your skull in,"
Fred protested.
"If we stop now, we'll be disqualified!"
Harry shouted back stubbornly; his hair, plastered to his head by the rain, made him look more miserable than anything.
"This is all your fault— 'catch the Snitch or die on the pitch'— you must be out of your mind to say that to him!"
George snapped, elbowing Wood.
"Is there a problem?"
Madam Hooch's voice carried over.
"Fred, George, you heard Harry— leave him and go handle the other Bludger—"
Wood gripped Harry's hand hard, looking into his determined face.
"We're fine!"
While they'd been huddling, Slytherin scored again, and the stands erupted.
"That Bludger is definitely wrong!"
Hermione cried, raincoat flapping, eyes on Harry. Sean's silent spellcasting had become her new target of study.
"Is Harry actually going to die out there?"
Ron was in shock.
"He'll be fine."
A calm voice answered.
Down on the pitch, the rain was falling even harder. Raindrops hammered against Harry's glasses, drumming like tiny fingers.
"Doing ballet up there, Potter?"
Malfoy yelled when Harry had to spin wildly in mid-air to avoid the Bludger.
Harry dove away at full speed; when he glanced back, his heart nearly stopped— the Bludger was only feet away.
And then, just as it was about to smash into him, it stopped, as if some invisible force had yanked it back.
Instinctively, Harry's gaze shot to the stands. Through the sheet of rain, that reassuring figure already had his wand raised.
"Sean!"
Harry shouted joyfully, banking sharply.
"What?"
Malfoy's gloating froze on his face. When he saw Harry turning, his eyes went wide in terror— Harry was flying straight at him, and he thought the Gryffindor Seeker meant to ram him.
Up in the stands—
Sean was feeling a kind of insight.
His method for controlling the rogue Bludger was simple: every time it lunged for Harry, he threw an Impediment Jinx at it.
Dobby had been trying to fight him for control, but a Master-level Impedimenta was no weaker than a house-elf's magic.
"What happened to the Bludger?"
Hermione finally let out a long breath. Watching Sean cast without a word only gave her yet another goal to chase.
"I think this is a… misunderstanding,"
Justin said cheerfully.
"What misunderstanding?"
Ron felt once again that Hogwarts was wrapped in fog.
On the pitch, Harry battled Malfoy for every inch of airspace;
Below, Sean was wrestling Dobby for control of the Bludger.
When he briefly dropped the Impediment Jinx and used raw will to steer the ball, he could clearly feel another presence resisting him.
At first, Sean was at a disadvantage; but soon, his will surged and pushed the resistance aside.
Then he finally understood what the status panel had meant—
You possess an unbending will.
~~~
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