May 15th, 1993
The changing room smelled of damp leather, broom polish, and Oliver Wood's industrial grade panic.
Wood had drawn so many aggressive chalk lines across the strategy board that the wooden frame was practically vibrating. Red dust settled over his boots, but he did not stop scribbling. Jagged arrows pointed toward the Ravenclaw defense, crisscrossing until the whole board looked like a chaotic web of frantic red ink.
"Points," Wood rasped, his voice dropping into the strained, raspy pitch of a man who had forgotten what sleep felt like. "We are sitting at one hundred and fifty points for the season. One hundred and fifty. Slytherin is sitting up top with five hundred and ten. If we want that Cup, we do not just need a win today. We need a slaughter. We need three hundred points net minimum."
He whirled around, pointing a stub of red chalk directly at the top bench.
"Which brings me to you, Harry."
Harry did not look up. He sat against the wooden lockers with one leg crossed over the other, casually unwrapping a paper wrapper filled with honey-roasted nuts he had swiped from the kitchens. He popped two into his mouth, chewing slowly as Wood glared at him.
"No ten-second tricks today," Wood said, his voice pleading and desperate. "I am entirely serious, Harry. I know you were expressing your anger during the Hufflepuff match-"
"Bloody right, I was," Harry said smoothly, swallowing before pointing a single nut-holding finger back at Wood. "No one told you to decide if I didn't need practice by yourself. You should have asked me."
"Right, fine, you were proving a point," Wood said, waving a hand wildly to dismiss the distinction. "A very sharp, very terrifying point. But today? If your hand touches that Snitch before the Chasers score at least eleven goals, I will personally throw myself off the top of the Astronomy Tower."
"Don't promise things you won't deliver, Oliver," Alicia murmured from the bench, adjusting her shin guards.
"I am serious!" Wood yelled, turning back to Harry, who was currently inspecting another nut with mild interest. "Harry. Look at me. Look into my eyes and promise me you will not Blink this match."
Harry raised his hands. "I won't, Wood. I'm not stupid."
Angelina buried her face in her hands, groaning. "He is going to do it again. I can feel it in my bones. We are going to put on all this leather just to play for forty seconds."
"Well, I won't. I want to win the Quidditch Cup again this year. So I won't," Harry retorted.
"Fifteen goals!" Wood shrieked. "Just give me fifteen goals, Potter! Is that so much to ask?"
Before Wood could launch into another full meltdown, the heavy oak door of the changing room swung open with a grand flourish.
In sauntered Fred and George Weasley. They were not wearing their Quidditch robes yet. Instead, they wore matching velvet top hats decorated with golden snitches that flapped their wings rhythmically.
"Did someone order a miracle?" Fred announced loudly, tipping his hat with a slow, deliberate wink meant exclusively for Katie Bell. "Or perhaps two miracles?"
"Because your local neighborhood benefactors have arrived," George declared, flashing a smooth, lazy grin directly at Angelina Johnson. "Please, ladies, hold your applause until the end of the presentation."
Wood stopped mid-step, chalk frozen inches from the board. "What is this? We have forty-five minutes before pitch inspection! Why are you two not dressed?"
"Oliver, my dear captain," Fred said, slinging an arm over Wood's shoulder and steering him gently away from his frantic drawings. "You worry too much. You spend your life looking at numbers on a board while the true beauty of life passes you by."
"Also, you look like you are about to pass out," George added smoothly, stepping past Wood and resting an elbow on the wooden bench right beside Angelina. "Which is a terrible look for a Captain. Luckily for this team, Fred and I are feeling exceptionally romantic and ridiculously generous today."
George reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek, velvet-bound subspace pouch secured with a silver clasp. The room went quiet as George unfastened the latch. With a dramatic flick of his wrist, he began pulling out full-sized, long rectangular boxes wrapped in thick silver paper with large crimson bows tied around them. They expanded seamlessly as they emerged from the small pouch, defying geometry as George lined five of them across the long central bench.
"What is all this?" Katie asked, leaning forward, her eyes bright with curiosity as she looked between the boxes and Fred's grinning face.
"We took a little inspiration," Fred said, stepping right up to Katie and leaning down so his face was mere inches from hers. "Our very own Seeker recently set a precedent by donating five hundred brooms to the school. A noble gesture. A grand gesture."
"A gesture that made us realize something profound," George continued, trailing a single finger lightly over the leather of Angelina's knee while flashing her a devious smile. "Why should the most gorgeous, talented Chasers in Hogwarts fly on standard gear when the Weasley family standard is available?"
With a synchronized flick of their wands, the silver wrapping paper vanished into thin air, and the mahogany lids of all five boxes lifted at once.
Nestled in thick black velvet linings were five brand-new, polished, state-of-the-art Nimbus 2001 broomsticks. The sleek, dark casing gleamed under the changing room lanterns, the silver tail-twigs were aligned to perfection, and the famous gold lettering along the handles caught the light with blinding clarity.
Oliver Wood dropped his piece of chalk. It shattered into four pieces on the stone floor, but he did not even look down. His jaw hovered wide open.
"Nimbus... two thousand and ones?" Wood squeaked, his voice pitching higher than a startled Mandrake. "Five of them?"
"Five of them," George confirmed proudly, his dark eyes staying locked firmly on Angelina. "One for our distinguished Captain, three for our brilliant Chasers, and one extra for our resident Seeker over there."
"I already have two Nimbus 2000," Harry pointed out calmly, though he had to admit the dark polish on the 2001 model was aesthetically superior.
"Well, you are flying on the 2001 today, Boy Wonder," Fred said, bowing lightly to him before sliding over until he was practically brushing shoulders with Katie.
"Oh, I'm not complaining," Harry said as his new Nimbus 2001 floated from the box into his hand.
Fred picked up one of the sleek broom boxes, his fingers deliberately trailing over Katie's knuckles as she reached out. He slid a small parchment envelope sealed with gold wax right onto the velvet lining.
"For you, Katie," Fred purred, his voice dropping into a low, smooth tone that sent a visible shiver down her spine. "An upgraded ride for the finest flier on the pitch. Read the note inside after we win, yeah? I spent twenty minutes getting the poetry just right."
Katie bit her lip, a gorgeous blush spreading across her cheeks. Instead of pulling away, she leaned in closer to Fred, running her thumb over the gold wax seal before sliding her hand up to rest against his forearm. "Poetry, Fred? Should I be worried that you're turning into a softie?"
"Only if you don't like candlelit dinners in Hogsmeade," Fred whispered, brushing his lips lightly against the corner of her jaw before stepping back with a confident smirk.
Katie's breath hitched, a wicked little smile curving her lips as she looked up at him through her lashes. "Make sure you hit enough Bludgers today to earn that dinner, Weasley. I don't go out with bench warmers."
"Darling, for you, I'll knock Davies right off his broom," Fred grinned back.
Meanwhile, George had casually lifted another box and set it straight onto Angelina's lap, leaning over her from behind so his chin was resting right beside her shoulder. He slid a matching wax-sealed envelope between her fingers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand with slow, electric intent.
"For our fiercest player," George murmured near her ear. "A broom fast enough to match your dangerous style. And a letter detailing all the reasons why you should let me buy you a Butterbeer next weekend. Or three."
Angelina didn't flinch. She rested her head back against his shoulder, tilting her face up to stare directly into George's dark eyes with an amused, hungry smirk. She lightly tapped the edge of the envelope against his cheek.
"Is this a bribe, Weasley?" she asked softly, her voice dripping with playful challenge. "Trying to buy your way into my good graces?"
"A bribe?" George gasped quietly, though his smirk only widened as his hand settled comfortably at the small of her back. "Angelina, darling, you wound me. This is merely team equipment. The letter is pure, unadulterated romance. Completely separate."
Angelina let out a low laugh, wrapping her fingers tightly around his wrist and pulling him just a fraction closer. "Well, the broom is definitely working. As for the letter... score me three clear assists today and I might actually consider letting you pick the pub."
"Deal," George whispered, pressing a quick, lingering kiss to the top of her cheek before pulling back. "Consider those assists delivered."
Alicia crossed her arms, looking between the four of them with an absolute grin. "Where is my romantic letter, boys?"
"We are generous, Alicia, but we are not suicidal," Fred said smoothly, pointing a thumb toward the stadium commentary box outside. "If we start sending you love letters, Lee will use his magical megaphone to announce all our embarrassing childhood stories to the entire pitch."
"We will be sure to forward your request for romance directly to Mr. Jordan," George added with a theatrical bow. "Though we suggest you tell him to step up his game. We just set the bar at five high-speed racing brooms."
"Fair enough!" Alicia laughed, immediately pulling her new Nimbus 2001 out of the velvet casing and testing the balance. "Merlin, this thing is light. We are going to blow right past Ravenclaw's defense!"
Wood stood up slowly, clutching his new broom against his chest like a long-lost child. He looked at Fred and George, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and overwhelming joy.
"We are the fastest team in the entire school," Wood whispered, the realization washing over him. "Every single player on a Nimbus 2001. Slytherin only has three of them in their lineup. We have seven!"
"Seven," George agreed, giving Angelina's waist one last cheeky squeeze as she stood up, before pulling his Quidditch jersey over his head. "So if you want those goals, Oliver, you better tell the Chasers to hold onto their hair. Because when they hit the gas on these things, they are going to break the sound barrier."
Wood turned back to the strategy board, wiped off all his panicked red arrows with his sleeve, and drew one single, massive line straight through the middle of the Ravenclaw defense.
"Change of plan!" Wood yelled, his confidence surging back to absurd heights. "We do not play a slow game! We overwhelm them from the first second! We use the speed advantage to turn the game our way from the very first moment!"
He pointed the chalk back at Harry.
"Harry! You still give us time to score! Ten minutes! Give us ten minutes on these brooms and we will give you your two hundred point lead!"
Harry casually closed his paper wrapper of honey-roasted nuts, dusted off his fingers, and stood up with his new Nimbus 2001 in hand. He checked the broom's center of gravity once, approving of the internal enchantments, before looking back over his shoulder at the lingering aura of romance taking over the changing room.
He gave the room a cool, arrogant smirk. "I am heading out to the pitch corridor. Need to get some salty snacks before we start. The air in this room has gotten far too sweet."
Fred and George froze mid-stretch, exchanging a look of synchronized, wicked delight.
"Oh, listen to him!" Fred called out, leaning back against the bench with a broad grin. "The Boy Wonder speaks on sweetness!"
"That is rich coming from you, Harry," George chimed in smoothly, resting an arm back over Angelina's shoulders. "You're talking like you haven't got half the castle baked into a sweet puff pastry for yourself."
Angelina snorted, leaning her hip against the bench while tossing Harry a devious look. "Please. As if we don't see the crowd every time you step out of the Great Hall."
"I believe the gentleman has plenty of sweets of his own to handle," Katie added with a grin, tucking her note into her pocket and tilting her head at Harry. "Should we do a quick headcount of the fan club, gents?"
"Let's do a roll call," Fred declared instantly, raising a finger as Harry turned to walk toward the door. "First off, Daphne Greengrass! The Ice Queen of Slytherin herself, standing in the freezing Scottish wind just to watch her prince fly!"
Harry quickened his pace, stepping through the oak doorway into the stone hallway.
"Pansy Parkinson!" George shouted right after him, his voice booming into the corridor. "Who literally showed up to the Gryffindor section today wrapped in crimson velvet just to cheer for your dramatic entrance!"
Harry broke into a fast power walk down the torchlit hallway.
"Don't forget little Ginny!" Alicia chimed in from inside the room, her laughing voice echoing loudly against the stone walls. "She would knock a dragon clear across the Great Hall if anyone looked at you sideways!"
Harry's brisk walk turned into a full stride.
"And Luna Lovegood!" Fred yelled at the top of his lungs, popping his head out of the changing room door into the hallway to make sure Harry heard him. "Walking around with radish earrings and telling the entire Quidditch stand that your aura is a very romantic shade of deep purple today!"
"Plus Tonks!" George roared from behind Fred, both of them grinning like lunatics. "She is practically loitering outside the defense tower three times a week just hoping you drop by!"
Harry didn't even bother attempting a witty comeback. The moment he heard Tonks' name added to the list, his calm composure cracked into sheer tactical retreat.
He broke into an absolute sprint down the stone tunnel, broom held tightly in his hand, leaving the changing room erupting into a roaring chorus of catcalls, whistles, and endless laughter behind him.
"Twenty minutes, Oliver!" Harry's voice echoed back down the long corridor from a hundred yards away as he ran. "Not a single second more!"
Forty minutes later, the heavy oak doors at the base of the stadium opened, letting in a bitter blast of highland wind alongside the deafening roar of the packed stands.
The pitch was a surreal sight. A thick, magical frost had settled across the grass overnight, turning the green field into a glittering sheet of multi-colored ice under the enchantment of the winter wards. Blue, scarlet, and gold light danced across the turf, shimmering whenever the pale morning sun cut through the cloud cover above.
Both teams walked out onto the frosted pitch on foot, their cleated boots crunching against the hard earth as they lined up opposite each other near the central circle.
"And here come the teams!" Lee Jordan's voice boomed over the magical megaphone, echoing off the towering wooden stands. "On the north side, we have Ravenclaw! Led by Captain Roger Davies, flanked by Chasers Jeremy Stretton and John Bradley! A solid lineup, folks. A very solid lineup!"
Lee cleared his throat, leaning far over the edge of the commentary box.
"And walking out from the south tunnel, the Gryffindor squad! Led by Oliver Wood, who looks like he has not slept since Tuesday! And wait a minute... what in the name of Merlin..."
Lee's voice trailed off completely. The commentary box went dead silent for three whole seconds as he stared down at the brooms resting against the Gryffindors' shoulders.
"Is that... are those..." Lee stammered, his voice suddenly jumping an octave. "Ladies and gentlemen, every single player on the Gryffindor team is holding a brand-new, top-of-the-line Nimbus 2001! Seven of them! Seven! Where did they even get seven 2001s? Did Wood rob a Gringotts vault? Did the Weasley twins sell their souls? Or did Santa Potter bless the team with early Christmas presents?"
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall's sharp voice cut over the speaker system, loud and clear. "Commentate on the match, not the financial status of the players!"
"Right, sorry, Professor," Lee muttered quickly, though his excitement surged right back. "But come on! Slytherin only has three of those! The Ravenclaw squad is relying on trusty Cleansweep Sevens, though I do see their Seeker, Cho Chang, holding a Nimbus 2001 of her own! But still! This isn't just an equipment difference, this is a speed hazard for the eagles!"
In the middle of the pitch, Roger Davies took a long look at the uniform line of sleek, dark brooms carried by the Gryffindors. Behind him, Stretton and Bradley exchanged uneasy glances while holding their Cleansweep Sevens, and their heavy-set Beaters, Duncan Inglebee and Jason Samuels, cracked their knuckles nervously. Keeper Grant Page stood near the far goalposts, testing the frosty wind with a raised hand.
Cho Chang stood slightly apart near the end of the Ravenclaw line. Her dark hair was tied back tight against the chill, her hands gripped around her own polished Nimbus 2001 as her eyes flicked straight toward Harry.
Harry was standing at the end of the Gryffindor line, casually holding his Nimbus 2001 by the handle while inspecting the polish on the tail-twigs. Harry smiled and waved at her, who smiled back.
Madam Hooch stepped into the center of the pitch, her yellow, hawk-like eyes scanning both squads.
"Captains, shake hands," she commanded.
Wood and Davies stepped forward into the very center of the grass. Wood gripped Davies' hand with enough force to turn the Ravenclaw captain's knuckles white, his jaw set in a hard, unyielding line. Davies winced, gave a curt, tight nod, and stepped back to his team.
"Mount your brooms," Hooch ordered.
All fourteen players swung their legs over their handles, planting their boots firmly on the frosted ground. A tense, dead silence fell over the entire stadium. Thousands of students and teachers leaned forward over the wooden railings, waiting for the signal.
Madam Hooch walked over to the heavy wooden crate resting on the turf. She bent down and unfastened the first metallic latch with a loud snap.
She opened the lid, and the tiny Golden Snitch exploded into the air first. It shot straight up like a streak of melted gold, its wings humming at an impossible speed as it zoomed past the high stands and vanished into the blue winter fog above.
Hooch didn't pause. She unclasped the secondary restraints, releasing the two heavy, black iron Bludgers. They burst out of the crate with twin thuds, tearing into the sky like cannonballs before circling high above the pitch, hunting for targets.
Finally, Madam Hooch scooped up the heavy crimson Quaffle from the center of the chest. She walked back to the central circle, raised her brass whistle to her lips, and threw the Quaffle high into the sky.
FWWWIIIIP!
The kick-off was a sheer blur of scarlet and gold.
Angelina Johnson hit the air like a cannon shot, her Nimbus 2001 accelerating so fast that the wind sheer nearly tore the headband right off her forehead. She sliced straight through the center line, scooped the crimson Quaffle out of the freezing morning air before Roger Davies could even finish his upward arc, and banked hard to the left.
"And Gryffindor takes immediate possession!" Lee Jordan roared into his megaphone, his voice echoing off the frosted wooden stands. "Angelina Johnson on the wing, moving at speeds that frankly ought to be illegal! Look at that acceleration! She leaves Davies completely in the dust!"
Davies snapped his Cleansweep Seven around, shouting orders to Stretton and Bradley, but the speed gap was grotesque. By the time the Ravenclaw Chasers adjusted their formation, Angelina had already executed a blind, backward pass straight into the hands of Katie Bell.
Katie didn't even slow down. She tucked the Quaffle tightly against her ribs, ducking under a wildly swinging Bludger sent her way by Duncan Inglebee. Fred Weasley was right behind it, rising up out of nowhere to catch the returning iron ball on the sweet spot of his bat.
CRACK!
The Bludger whipped across the pitch like a black cannonball, forcing Jason Samuels to dive flat against his broom handle just to avoid getting taking off at the neck.
"Brilliant cover by Fred Weasley!" Lee bellowed, pounding his fist on the edge of the commentary box. "Katie Bell has a clear lane! She is driving straight for the Ravenclaw hoops! Grant Page is setting up his guard... Katie fakes left, shoots right..."
SWISH!
The crimson ball tore through the right hoop before Grant Page could even extend his arm.
"GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR!" Lee screamed as the Gryffindor stands exploded into a wall of roaring red and gold sparks. "Ten zero to Gryffindor within twenty-four seconds! Wood is weeping! I think I actually see tears in Oliver Wood's eyes!"
In the high sky above the action, Harry hovered casually on his Nimbus 2001.
He had his legs crossed over the broom handle, leaning back as if he were resting in an armchair rather than floating two hundred feet above a frozen pitch. High above the stadium perimeter, Cho Chang was circling in a wide, elegant arc, her dark eyes darting between the cloud cover and Harry's relaxed posture.
When she caught him watching the game with an amused, lazy grin, Cho couldn't help a brief, incredulous laugh. She shook her head, adjusting her grip on her Nimbus 2001 before diving lower to search for the Snitch.
Down below, the match had descended into complete tactical dominance.
Oliver Wood's aggressive strategy, powered by the sheer raw hardware of seven Nimbus 2001s, was tearing Ravenclaw's defensive grid into ribbons. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia moved in a tight, devastating arrowhead formation. Every time Davies or Stretton tried to break their line, a Weasley twin would materialize out of the blue fog, cracking a Bludger with pinpoint accuracy to disrupt their flight path.
"Johnson to Spinnet! Spinnet passes back to Bell!" Lee's voice was getting raspier by the minute. "Bradley tries to intercept... nope! Alicia Spinnet just pulled off a sharp Hawk-Head Attacking Formation that left Bradley spinning in circles! She shoots... AND SCORES AGAIN!"
SWISH!
"Twenty zero!" Lee yelled. "Three minutes in! Ravenclaw cannot catch them! The Cleansweep Sevens just do not have the top-end speed to match those Nimbuses on the turn!"
"Jordan, refrain from commenting on the brooms and comment on the game!" McGonagall snapped, though even her eyes were wide as she watched the sheer speed of the Gryffindor Chasers.
"It is pure mechanics, Professor!" Lee shot back defensively before leaning back into the mic. "Davies has the Quaffle now! He's organizing a counter-attack! Stretton on his left, Bradley on his right! They are driving hard toward Wood!"
Roger Davies put his head down, pushing his Cleansweep Seven to its absolute limit as he charged the Gryffindor goalposts. He pulled up sharply, preparing to drop a lob pass to Stretton, but George Weasley dropped out of the sun like a hawk.
George didn't hit the Bludger at Davies. He hit it directly into the path of the Quaffle pass.
CLANG!
The heavy iron ball collided with the leather Quaffle mid-air, knocking it completely out of trajectory. Alicia snatched the loose ball right off Davies' broom tail, reversed her direction on a dime, and launched a fifty-yard pass clear across the length of the field.
"Interception by Spinnet!" Lee screamed, entire crowd rising to their feet. "Pass to Johnson! Johnson is completely unmarked! Page dives... TOO LATE! THIRTY ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"
Oliver Wood let out a guttural roar from his goalposts, pumping both fists into the freezing air. He looked up toward the clouds, catching Harry's eye, and held up three fingers, mouthing furiously: TWELVE MORE! TWELVE MORE GOALS!
Harry just chuckled, giving his frantic captain a lazy thumb's up.
Up in the higher sky, Cho Chang suddenly froze mid-turn. Her eyes locked onto a tiny, brilliant glint of gold fluttering just twenty feet above the Ravenclaw commentary tower.
Up in the high sky, Cho Chang suddenly froze mid-turn. Her eyes locked onto a tiny, brilliant glint of gold fluttering just twenty feet above the Ravenclaw commentary tower.
She didn't hesitate. Cho flattened herself completely against the dark handle of her Nimbus 2001, kicking the broom into a maximum vertical dive. The wind whipped her dark hair into a straight trail as she tore downward, targeting the fluttering wings of the Golden Snitch.
"Wait! Look at Cho Chang!" Lee Jordan yelled into his megaphone, pointing wildly. "She's spotted it! Chang is in a dive! The Snitch is near the south tower!"
Cho kept her eyes pinned to the gold light, her fingers stretching out as the wind roared in her ears. She was mere feet away, closing the gap fast.
Then, a dark streak cut straight across her flight path.
Harry had dropped out of the upper cloud cover like a falling shadow. He didn't bump her broom. Instead, he executed a flawless, high-speed tail-block, sweeping his Nimbus 2001 into a tight spiral directly in front of Cho's trajectory.
And Cho had to swerve violently to avoid a mid-air collision, pulling her handle up hard as the sudden slipstream from Harry's dive rattled her grip.
By the time Cho stabilized her broom and leveled off, the brief window was gone. The Snitch had already vanished back into the swirling blue fog, completely lost in the momentary chaos.
Cho pulled up alongside him, her breath coming in short, frosted gasps as she wiped a strand of stray hair from her forehead. She looked at him with a mix of utter disbelief and sharp amusement.
You cut me off without even going for it!" Cho called out over the rushing wind, her eyes wide. "Are you just playing defense today?"
Harry gave her a relaxed smirk, tilting his Nimbus handle smoothly to match her elevation. "Oliver gave me a quota. I'm not allowed to catch it yet, but I certainly can't let you catch it either. Fair's fair."
Cho couldn't help a brief, incredulous laugh, her dark eyes bright with competitive fire. "You're completely ridiculous, Potter."
"Just doing my job," Harry grinned back.
SWISH!
"SIXTY-TEN!" Lee's voice echoed across the frozen pitch below. "ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL GOAL BY GRYFFINDOR! THE CHASERS ARE UNSTOPPABLE!"
Harry gave Cho a polite little nod before accelerating back up into the high cloud layer to reset his perimeter guard. "Looks like my team needs a few more minutes. Better keep your eyes open, Chang."
As the match wore on, the sky above the frozen stadium became a high-altitude game of cat and mouse.
Harry didn't stay high in the clouds anymore. He stuck to Cho like a shadow, trailing her Nimbus 2001 by a mere half-length. Everywhere she turned, Harry was right over her shoulder, his draft breaking her momentum and keeping constant pressure on her movements.
Below them, the pitch was a chaotic display of pure speed.
"Johnson cuts inside Davies!" Lee Jordan screamed into the megaphone. "Passes to Bell, back to Johnson, back to Spinnet! The Gryffindor Chasers are putting on an absolute clinic! Page dives left, but Bell hits the top right hoop! ONE HUNDRED AND TEN TO FORTY!"
Oliver Wood was screaming so loudly from his own goalposts that his voice was cracking into high-pitched squeaks. He held up both hands, fingers spread wide: FOUR MORE! JUST FOUR MORE GOALS!
Right at that second, a flash of gold cut through the blue mist, hovering right between the central goalposts before rocketing toward the eastern stands.
Cho saw it first. She snapped her broom handle forward, dropping into a dead-flat sprint across the pitch.
This time, Harry didn't drop out of nowhere to block her path. He accelerated right beside her, his Nimbus 2001 matching her speed inch for inch.
They tore across the pitch side-by-side, brooms aligned so closely that their shoulders were practically brushing. The wind whistled through their robes as they wove through the high air, both heads tilted down, locked on the tiny, golden sphere buzzing thirty yards ahead.
"Look at the Seekers!" Lee roared, completely abandoning the Chaser commentary. "They're locked in! Chang and Potter are neck-and-neck! They're heading straight for the Ravenclaw tower!"
Cho leaned flat against her handle, pushing her broom for every ounce of speed it possessed. Her right hand reached out, fingers stretching toward the fluttering gold wings.
Harry didn't touch her broom, nor did he lean into her. Instead, he used his position on the inside line to subtly control the geometry of the chase. Every time Cho tried to curve her trajectory inward for a direct grab, Harry matched her angle precisely, using his presence to force her onto the wider, outside arc.
Cho grit her teeth, her knuckles white on her handle as she tried to squeeze past his inner line. "You're not making this easy, Potter!"
"Well....it's kind of in the job description," Harry called back over the rush of the wind, visibly strained himself as he stayed right on her side forcing her to go wide.
Harry didn't reach for the Snitch. Instead, he smoothly altered his wing angle, matching her speed while positioning his handle so that Cho had zero room to extend her arm fully without pulling her broom out of its line.
SWISH!
"ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY TO SIXTY!" Lee's voice thundered across the stadium. "ANOTHER GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR! THAT IS THE TARGET! WOOD IS CELEBRATING LIKE HE JUST WON THE ENTIRE WAR!"
The ten-minute mark had passed. The quota was met.
The moment LEE announced the score, Harry stopped trying to stop Cho and his eyes locked onto the Snitch, his expression sharpening in an instant.
No more holding back. No more defensive blocking.
Just fifty yards ahead, right near the wooden railings of the Ravenclaw tower, the tiny golden sphere was hovering erratically before zipping upward along the wood grandstand.
Cho saw it the exact same second. Driven by pure instinct, she flattened herself completely against the handle of her Nimbus 2001, kicking the broom into a maximum sprint. Harry slammed his weight forward, bringing his own Nimbus 2001 to its absolute limit.
Because both were riding the exact same model, neither broom could out-accelerate the other. They tore across the pitch completely side-by-side, locked in a brutal, neck-and-neck drag race. The wind howled in their ears, whipping Cho's dark hair straight back as their boots nearly touched in mid-air.
"Look at the Seekers!" Lee roared, completely abandoning the Chaser commentary. "They're locked in! Chang and Potter are neck-and-neck! Neither broom is giving an inch! They are riding the exact same hardware!"
Cho leaned into the wind, her small frame perfectly aerodynamic. She reached her right arm out to its absolute limit, her leather glove hovering a agonizing half-inch behind the fluttering gold wings.
She's got it! Cho Chang is inches away!" Lee screamed over the microphone, the whole crowd standing up on their seats.
Harry knew he couldn't out-accelerate her on the same broom model. So he improvised.
In a move of absolute insanity, Harry unbuckled his legs from the side stirrups and scooted himself absurdly far forward, sliding almost entirely onto the very tip of his broom handle. He was practically balancing on the nose of the Nimbus 2001, defying center of gravity, completely relying on sheer core strength and momentum to keep from pitching headfirst into the wind.
The risk gave him just enough physical extension. While Cho stretched as far as her frame allowed, Harry's longer arm and ridiculous forward position allowed him to reach past her thumb by a fraction of an inch.
SNAP.
Harry's fingers closed tight around the cold, struggling metal of the Golden Snitch.
"HARRY HAS IT!" Lee roared.
The sudden shift in weight distribution, combined with the wind sheer at top speed, immediately punished him. The moment his hand locked around the Snitch, the nose of his Nimbus 2001 buckled downward. Harry slipped clear off the sleek dark wood, slipping completely off the seat.
The stadium gasped in collective horror as Harry went into a momentary, terrifying freefall, dropping like a stone straight toward the frosted turf below. The broom spun out above him, tumbling out of control.
Harry didn't panic. Refusing to drop the Snitch from his right fist, he reached out with his boots, hooking his ankle violently around the tail-twigs of his falling broom mid-air. He yanked his leg upward with explosive force, hauling the Nimbus back toward his torso, swinging his body over the wooden shaft, and kicking his boots back into position just ten feet above the grass.
He pulled up sharply, the tail of his broom brushing the glittered frost on the ground before he leveled off into a smooth, triumphant hover.
Madam Hooch's whistle blasted across the pitch, signaling the end of the match.
"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee Jordan screamed, entirely losing his mind into the megaphone. "THREE HUNDRED TO SIXTY! HARRY POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH WHILE PULLING OFF A STUNT THAT SHOULD BE PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE!"
Harry held his right hand high into the freezing air, his grip firm around the golden ball, a wide, chaotic grin plastered across his face.
Cho pulled her Nimbus up beside him a moment later, her heart still hammering in her chest from both the close chase and the heart-stopping fall. She stared at him in absolute shock before breaking into a wide, breathless laugh.
"You almost broke your neck for an inch!" Cho yelled over the roaring crowd, shaking her head in utter disbelief.
"Well thankfully I didn't... Otherwise, that would have ended really bad." Harry called back. "Great match!"
Oliver Wood sprinted across the frosted turf like a man possessed, tackling Harry around the shoulders before he even had a chance to dismount.
"We did it! Three hundred to sixty!" Wood screamed, his eyes wild and bloodshot with absolute ecstasy. "We're top of the table! We wiped out Slytherin's lead in a single match! You absolute beautiful lunatic, Potter!"
"Oliver, let the boy breathe," Alicia laughed, landing beside them with Katie and Angelina.
Before Wood could launch into a second full-body hug, Fred and George materialized on either side of Harry, clapping him heavily on the back while eyeing him with wide, mock-scolded expressions.
"That falling stunt," Fred said, shaking his head. "Insane. Magnificent. Absolutely unnecessary."
"Scared the living daylights out of your fan club in the stands, Boy Wonder," George added, slinging an arm over Angelina's shoulder as she walked up. "Pretty sure Greengrass almost dropped her icy composure, and Parkinson looked ready to curse the sky itself."
"I was just maximizing broom reach," Harry said smoothly, sliding off his Nimbus 2001 and sweeping a hand through his wind-messy hair. "Mechanics, George. Simple mechanics."
"Right, mechanics," Katie snickered, stepping right up into Fred's space and holding up her wax-sealed envelope. "Speaking of promises... sixty-ten before the Snitch went down. That's six clear assists. I believe somebody owes me poetry and a very expensive dinner in Hogsmeade."
Fred grinned down at her, completely unbothered, slipping his arm around her waist. "Every single line of that poem was earned on the pitch today, Katie. I'll even let you order the expensive butterbeer."
"You'd better," Katie hummed, tapping his nose before turning back toward the changing rooms with a triumphant step.
Angelina tilted her head, tossing her dark braids back over her shoulder as she looked at George with an amused, wicked smirk. "And you, Weasley. Three assists. You actually delivered."
"Did you ever doubt me, darling?" George purred, leaning down to bump his shoulder against hers. "I am a man of my word. Hogsmeade, next weekend. The Three Broomsticks."
"I'll hold you to it," Angelina laughed, nudging him back as the group began walking down the frosted exit ramp toward the changing room tunnel.
Across the snowy field near the Ravenclaw shed, Cho landed gracefully and set her Nimbus 2001 against the racks. Cedric Diggory was already waiting at the base of the stands, wrapped in a thick Hufflepuff scarf. He jogged over, slinging an arm around her shoulders to pull her into a quick, warm side-hug while checking to make sure she was completely fine after that intense dive. Cho leaned into his side with a breathless laugh, pointing up toward the sky as she recounted Harry's insane forward-scooting trick. Cedric looked over at Harry, shaking his head with an amused, appreciative nod between rival Seekers.
Harry caught the gesture, giving Cedric a brief, easy salute with his broom handle before turning back to the tunnel entrance.
"Look at him, casually strolling while Wood is practically hyperventilating with joy," Alicia said, trailing behind with Lee Jordan, who had rushed down from the commentary box to join the victory walk.
"Hyperventilating is an understatement," Lee laughed, wrapping an arm around Alicia's shoulders. "Oliver looks like he just single-handedly conquered Europe. I am going to have a nightmare about his strategic chalk boards tonight."
"If you bring chalk into the common room tonight, Lee, I am throwing you out the window," Alicia threatened playfully, leaning into him as they pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
Inside the stone corridor, the warmth of the castle wards washed over them, melting the crisp frost from their gear. The roar of Gryffindor celebrations was already echoing down from the grand staircase, but for now, the corridor belonged to a team floating high on a three-hundred-to-sixty slaughter.
Harry rested his Nimbus 2001 over his shoulder, a cool, satisfied smirk settling onto his face as the twins broke into a loud, unharmonized victory song behind him. It was an absolute masterpiece of a match, the season table was officially righted, and maybe he had finally gotten rid of that ridiculous nickname.
"Oi, Blink! Party in the common room in fifteen!" Fred called out cheerfully from behind him.
Harry could only sigh. Maybe not.