"What am I looking at?" Harry enquired, only half-interested in women's gossip, but wanting to keep up to date on the public opinion concerning him.
Smirking at him, "Look at page 4," Tonks answered. He could feel the staring at him increase.
...
Forcing himself to ignore the growing amount of stares, he flipped to page 4. After all, they were in a public place, he could hardly shout at them for gawking, even if it was annoying and rude.
Seeing his face with a massive 'Rank 1' written next to it, with the sub-caption 'Britain's Most Eligible Teen Wizard', he realized why the whole school was suddenly staring at him.
"Interesting, but they got one important fact wrong, which renders this ranking totally incorrect. I'm 12, not thirteen." He noted disapprovingly, whilst shaking his head visibly, causing the listening student population to burst into laughter and giggles, whilst he looked down the listings and saw that Neville was at number two, which really didn't surprise him considering the boy's status and fame.
He closed the gossip magazine and handed it back to his overly amused cousin. "That explains a lot, and why I've been looked at like a particularly juicy piece of meat lately," he got a few more chuckles as his words carried across the Hall. Looking around the Great Hall, he wondered which girl would find the courage to ask him out first, and ultimately try and claim him for themselves. More importantly, which girl would he say 'yes' to? Personally he was putting money on a girl from Gryffindor to be the first; they were an impulsive and reckless bunch.
'Maybe I should make a list of yes/no candidates,' he mentally considered, as he took sanctuary next to his cousin.
...
(Ravenclaw vs Slytherin)
The cold winter air tore at his face as he dived headlong into the Slytherin chaser line, pulling a following Draco along with him, helping to further disrupt the Slytherin team's counterattack as his teammates intercepted their rivals in the air. Roger skilfully caught the Slytherin pass before hurrying down the pitch and hurling the quaffle at the Slytherin goals as Harry and Draco sped dangerously close to the Slytherin goalkeeper, adding to the chaos and distracting the opposing goalkeeper while the quaffle tore through the Slytherin goal posts once again.
Smirking as he pulled up, he climbed into the dreary winter sky. "160 – 70, where is Slytherin this game?" Jordan cried out over the loudspeakers as Ravenclaw continued to pull ahead in goals, as three quarters of the stadium cheered.
Looking over at the red-faced Slytherin seeker, "Still with me, Draco?" he mocked easily to his rival. "I swear you almost took out your own goalkeeper back there," pulling the young Malfoy's strings again to drive him further off his game, as he subtly scanned the Quidditch field for the elusive snitch, while noting that Draco's hands were locked onto the broom very tightly, almost fearfully.
"Shut up, Potter!" the Slytherin second year spat out at the top of his lungs, the boy's anger flaring just as Harry hoped it would, whilst he continued to watch the game below. Draco was very much like a simple-minded bull; as soon as you waved a red flag at him, the boy would predictably charge you. Keeping up this series of insults allowed Harry to keep the boy distracted and off balance throughout the whole game.
Smiling, "Nah, I like talking to you," he stated as he continued to circle in the air, allowing him to scan the pitch whilst he continued to get under the Slytherin seeker's overly pale and thin skin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Edward hit a bludger, its trajectory off the bat showing that it was coming right at them, or more accurately, towards the stationary Draco, who was solely focused on him rather than minding his surroundings as he should have.
Recognizing an opportunity to get rid of the opposing seeker, or at least injure his rival, he felt it was time to finally broach a subject that he knew would enrage the boy further. "How's the lovely Pansy, by the way? I heard that you two are now contracted?" The bludger continued to rocket straight towards them as Harry circled around Draco to keep the boy's line of sight away from the approaching bludger.
"That is none of your business, Potter," Draco sneered as the bludger came ever closer, several people below now realizing what was about to happen, but the height and wind dampened their shouted warnings.
He shrugged his shoulders at that. "Just asking, we did have a very nice dance together after all." He continued to watch the fast-approaching bludger, before suddenly cocking a smile. "You should really duck now," he warned, his tone mocking.
"Duck?" The Malfoy heir had just enough time to ask before the bludger hit him in the face, the Slytherin suddenly going limp, like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut in mid-dance, before tipping to one side and falling off his broom bonelessly, which in turn suddenly went dead as well.
Watching as the second year fell, gravity pulling the boy ever downwards towards the hard winter ground below, and certain death, he mentally debated whether he should act. Should he save the boy? Seconds passed while he mentally weighed his options before screams echoed through the air, the crowd below now realizing what was happening.
He quickly realized that he had no choice but to act, otherwise people would ask why he didn't do something, why he didn't attempt to save the opposing seeker's life when he was so close.
Leaping into action at these thoughts, he tipped his broom downwards, his cold analytical mind making lightning-fast deductions, 'Draco dying would strengthen Lord Malfoy's claims that the headmaster is unable to defend and/or protect the school, and will likely also cause him to blame me for the death of his heir. The press will be sympathetic to the man's case, swayed by illogical emotion, forgetting entirely that I'm a 12-year-old boy too and thus putting all my long-term plans into jeopardy,' listing reasons why the boy needed to live.
The cold air pressed painfully against his face, numbing it, as he chased after the falling boy. 'At least we have this game won for sure now,' he noted dryly as he reached out to grab the Slytherin boy who was less than 50 feet from the ground at that point.
However, just before he could grab hold of the boy's foot, a wave of magic rolled over the Slytherin, his body glowing an ethereal blue, suspending him in midair as Harry shot past him in surprise, but quickly regrouped to pull up before he himself hit the ground.
Pulling up on his broom, his attention turned back to Malfoy as he watched the second year Slytherin float harmlessly and slowly to the ground. His eyes spotted the headmaster glowing with magical energy in the staff box, his wand in the air, its tip glowing with the same colour energy that grabbed the falling boy midair.
'Nice spell,' he noted, as Professor Hooch and Madam Pomfrey rushed onto the pitch to treat the downed player as the game was temporarily halted.
He drifted over to his teammates, who were busy talking about changing tactics to capitalize on having a one-man advantage, especially with it being the other team's seeker. "Harry, we need to get another 60 point advantage before wrapping this game up," Roger suddenly said. "I want you to continue to run interference manoeuvres until we have at least a good 130 point lead over them before catching the snitch. If we do that we would have a good chance of winning the Quidditch Cup this year for once."
"Alright," Harry quickly agreed, seeing what the captain was up to. "Remember, Longbottom is banned from playing in the next game against Hufflepuff. Gryffindor will have a green seeker, and they will have to rely heavily on their chasers to pick up the slack."
"Of course, how could I forget about that?" Roger asked aloud, whilst another group of adults ran onto the pitch, the familiar Lord Malfoy leading the charge, followed immediately by his stuck-up, but beautiful wife.
"We've got this then," Jones voiced. "As long as Gryffindor loses to Hufflepuff and we win this match with a good lead, all we will have to do to win it all is to stay close to Gryffindor in points in the final match up. Even if they win the game, both teams would have won two games each, then it would just come down to the points. Let's pad our point total," Roger agreed wholeheartedly with this.
"Let's do this!" Alice stated excitedly, as a new wave of energy rippled through the squad, the staff now beginning to move the injured Slytherin seeker.
He shook his head at their excitement, as if it would be so easy. "You know they're going to play even dirtier now, right? They got nothing to lose. The only way they can win is if our team can't compete and is forced to forfeit." He then looked over at the Slytherin squad having their own pep talk. He found it rather funny that none of the players had gone to check on their fallen seeker, which just proved once again that while money can buy many things, it can't buy real friends.
"Hands together," Roger ordered, his own hand at the bottom of the pile as the team added their own hands, with Harry's being right on the top.
All together they yelled, "Go Ravenclaw!" while launching their hands in the air. Professor Hooch walked back onto the pitch moments later, ready to restart the game.
...
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