Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron — Weasley is our king.

There were bursts of high-pitched screams and louder and louder singing, and the atmosphere reached its peak.

Weasley is our King,

He always lets the Quaffle in,

Weasley is our King.

At this moment, everyone stopped, even Harry and Malfoy.

Abandoning their search for the Snitch, they turned to look at Ron, where everyone was looking.

At the far end of the pitch, a lone figure was hovering before the three goal hoops while the massive Warrington pelted toward him…

“— and it’s Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he’s out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead…” Jordan shouted loudly, speaking very fast, “Without teamwork, it won’t succeed, but he seems to be going all-in. This is their only chance, and Slytherin can’t even intercept the Bludger now!”

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:

Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring…

“— so it’s the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, the younger brother of Gryffindor’s legendary captain Charlie Weasley and Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team, inheriting a fine Quidditch tradition. Come on, Ron, stop him!”

But a few seconds later, the scream of delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them, straight through Ron’s central hoop.

“Slytherin score!” came Lee’s voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. “So that’s ten-nil to Slytherin. Ron’s reaction speed is pretty good, but … bad luck, Ron.”

The Slytherins sang even louder:

WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,

HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN…

The singing was now deafening, drowning out all other sounds on the pitch.

Gryffindor also wanted to respond, but they didn’t have a unified slogan, and it was too late for the current organization!

Weasley will make sure we win,

Weasley is our King.

The singing gradually resounded throughout the audience, and even many people from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw started singing along.

It had to be admitted that this song was quite catchy, especially the part: Weasley is our king.

Slytherin fought more bravely; they abandoned the Bludgers and devoted themselves entirely to snatching the Quaffle, grabbing it at all costs.

Angelina, infuriated, screamed loudly across the entire field, urging the team to defend, but in doing so, they lost their balance and fell into Slytherin’s rhythm.

Fred’s Bludger hit Warrington hard, and he swayed but did not let go of the Quaffle in his hand.

Just like before, he went straight to Gryffindor’s goal, the same position, the same actions, and even the surrender of the Quaffle was the same.

Ron stood there staggering, seemingly startled by the opponent, and dodged back.

The next second, there was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins.

Slytherin scored, twenty-nil.

Next, Slytherin’s captain, Montague, got hold of the Quaffle, followed by Pucey.

Thirty-nil! Forty-nil!

Their tactics now were ridiculously simple, abandoning control and maneuverability; everyone crowded in front of their own hoops, pouncing forward when they got the Quaffle.

Then fly to Ron, throw the Quaffle, score!

“It’s over!” Hermione said painfully, and Ron seemed to have given up resistance or was completely bewildered.

Now, as long as someone from Slytherin came over with a Quaffle, he could easily score.

There was an edge of panic in Harry’s desire to find the Snitch now. He just hoped he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly.

WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,

HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,

WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,

WEASLEY IS OUR KING.

Harry zoomed around the end of the stadium. He dared not look at Ron, only hearing the continuous cheers from the Slytherins below. He also saw the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson conducting the Slytherin supporters who were roaring.

Then, fifty-nil, sixty-nil!

It was really bad. Gryffindor had never been beaten like this before.

Harry suddenly felt that maybe sending Ginny to play would be better than Ron’s performance.

He reassured himself continuously, it was just a lead of sixty points, not too much, and there was still a chance.

He had to seize the time; it was up to him now to end this painful game, otherwise they would lose miserably. Harry thought this, and then he finally saw it: The tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch.

He dived and in a matter of seconds, Malfoy was streaking out of the sky on Harry’s left, a green-and-silver blur lying flat on his broom…

The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off toward the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Malfoy, who was nearer.

Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy were now neck and neck…

Feet from the ground, Harry lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching toward the Snitch … to his right, Malfoy’s arm extended too, reaching, groping…

Both of them had a chance, and it was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds…

Harry’s fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball — Malfoy’s fingernails scrabbled the back of Harry’s hand hopelessly — Harry pulled his broom upward, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators finally cheered loudly.

This was the first time they cheered in this game. Fortunately, Harry was there and they won the game.

Harry was also relieved; they were saved!

It did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won…

WHAM!

A Bludger hit Harry in the small of the back and he flew forward off his broom; luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground.

Crabbe also got his second Bludger of the game. He and Goyle had been completely suppressed by Fred and George throughout the game, feeling frustrated. However, that didn’t matter because they had the lead; but Harry catching the Snitch ended it all.

Gryffindor won, and this result made the Slytherins feel even more aggrieved. They clearly had an overall advantage.

“How could he do that? The game is over!” Hermione shouted angrily, waving her fist at Crabbe.

“Thank goodness, it didn’t hit a vital spot; and Madam Hooch has passed!” Evan said angrily as well.

Just as angry as them were all the Gryffindors, and Lee Jordan had already begun to swear!

Harry fell from the sky. He heard Madam Hooch’s shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Angelina’s frantic voice.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am,” said Harry grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet.

“It was that thug, Crabbe,” said Angelina angrily. “He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you’d got the Snitch — but we won, Harry, we won! Thanks to you, otherwise, I don’t know what we would have done!”

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