Harry Potter: From Little Wizard to White Lord

The sky was clear, clouds drifting lazily across a dome of brilliant blue.

Normally quiet, the Quidditch pitch was packed today. Students filled the stands, the colors of the four houses proudly on display. Fluffy heads bobbed excitedly among banners and scarves.

As Vaughn and his teammates walked onto the field, a roar erupted from the Slytherin stands. Green and silver flags waved, and a few older students conjured a snake-shaped firework that hissed and slithered above the crowd.

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw weren't silent either. Dozens of students waved gleaming gold banners stitched with bold, enchanted letters:

"GO VAUGHN!"

From across the pitch, Vaughn spotted Cedric and a few familiar Ravenclaw girls. He gave them a grin and a wave, which sent another wave of cheering rippling through the stands.

A voice crackled through the magically amplified microphone.

"Good morning, everyone! This is Lee Jordan reporting live, and today I'll be your commentator. Professor McGonagall is on supervision duty, so I'll try very hard not to get hexed mid-sentence. And now, entering the field - Slytherin! Look, it's Vaughn Weasley! That charming devil has half the third-years swooning--"

A loud, unmistakable throat-clearing.

"Er, right, sorry Professor. And now here comes Gryffindor!"

The two teams lined up as Madam Hooch strode out with her broomstick tucked under one arm. She came to a stop between the two captains.

"I expect a clean, fair game from everyone. Play with honor, play with heart." Her eyes flicked toward the Slytherin side, where Flint, the burly Slytherin captain, gave her a wide, goofy grin full of crooked teeth. She turned away quickly and continued explaining the game rules and fouls.

Across from him, Vaughn caught Harry's eye. He gave the boy a playful wink.

Poor Harry, Vaughn thought. He doesn't even know what's about to hit him.

"Mount your brooms," Madam Hooch commanded.

A sharp blast of her silver whistle, and fifteen broomsticks shot into the sky.

The game had begun.

The red Quaffle soared high into the air, and both teams surged forward, desperate to claim it.

Lee Jordan's voice boomed through the enchanted speakers, echoing across the pitch.

"And we're off! What a wild start! Everyone's scrambling for the Quaffle - wait, what's this? Harry's hanging back! He's flying higher than the rest. Looks like Oliver Wood's strategy is to give him a wider field of vision—

- smart move!"

"Meanwhile, Vaughn Weasley is making life miserable for his own brothers, Fred and George. He's darting in front of them like a lightning bolt, twisting and turning - uh oh! Fred tried to whack the Bludger toward him, but Vaughn dodged at the last second and - wait! He lured it right into Angelina Johnson's path! She was the closest to the Quaffle, but now the Bludger's after her instead! The Quaffle's been stolen by Slytherin - what a sneaky--"

"Jordan!"

"Right, sorry Professor. What I meant was: what a clever tactical maneuver! Vaughn is using his speed to great effect. And - yes! The Quaffle is in! Slytherin leads 10 to 0!"

The wind tore across the field, making robes flap like sails. Vaughn, wearing wind goggles, turned and gave his twin brothers a smug little finger wave.

The twins didn't look pleased.

High above, Harry hovered nervously. Starting the game with a goal against them made him anxious, but there was no sign of the Golden Snitch. Not even a glimmer.

He itched to dive in and help, to defend or attack like Vaughn was doing. But Oliver's stern hand signals reminded him to stick to the plan. He was too light, too small to compete in a tangle of bodies and Bludgers.

Vaughn was still weaving like a madman.

He crouched low on his broom, standing lightly on the footrests, his cloak whipping behind him like a banner. He shot past Angelina, a blur of green and silver.

A black Bludger snapped toward him, fast and vicious. Vaughn led it on a wild chase, dancing just out of reach every time it lunged.

Angelina, behind him, was forced to pull up. The Bludger now saw her as the closer target.

She spun and shouted angrily at the twins, "What are you two doing?! Hit the bloody Bludger already!"

"Brilliant-uh, I mean, terribly unfortunate!" Lee said quickly. "Vaughn has dragged the Bludger right into the heart of Gryffindor's formation. No sign of the Snitch yet. Harry's still scanning, and Gryffindor can't seem to gain any momentum. Oliver's tactics - well, they're not looking great right now."

No one had a good answer.

Vaughn pushed his Nimbus 2000 to the limit, turning the Bludger into a flying nuisance toy. It chased him fruitlessly, causing chaos among the Gryffindor ranks.

Slytherin climbed the scoreboard, 90 to 20.

Harry was sweating in the cold air. He'd seen flickers of gold a few times, but each time they vanished before he could give chase.

Then it happened again - a golden glimmer. Harry's heart skipped. He dove.

Vaughn saw him move instantly. With a small signal to Flint and Pucey, he let the plan unfold.

Lee Jordan's voice screamed over the crowd.

"Wait - has Harry spotted the Snitch? He's diving, look at him go - oh no! Flint and Pucey are breaking formation! What are they - wait, they're aiming right for him! They're speeding up, are they trying to ram him?!"

"Jordan!"

"Sorry Professor! Good news is, they didn't hit him. Bad news is, Harry's been cut off!"

"Foul! That's a foul!" Dean Thomas was on his feet in the Gryffindor stands, shouting at Madam Hooch. "Give them a red card!"

"This isn't football, Dean," Seamus said with a sigh. "There's no red card in Quidditch."

Still, the Gryffindor supporters were furious. Flint, built like a troll, and Pucey, tall and broad-shouldered, boxed Harry in with brutal precision.

They flew past him on either side, bumping his broom's tail repeatedly, making it almost impossible for him to accelerate.

"Oh no - poor Harry looks like a puppet on a string! He's being battered around by two oversized gorillas - where's the ref?! Flint just clipped him in the face with his broom! You blind, Madam Hooch?!"

This time, Professor McGonagall didn't scold Lee.

Apparently, Flint's antics had pushed even her patience.

But Madam Hooch hadn't seen it. Her attention had been locked on the players fighting over the Quaffle.

Harry's cheek stung. His glasses were nearly knocked clean off. Frustration boiled in his chest. He wanted to fight back, but two sixth-years built like boulders were simply too much.

Fred and George tried to help, but once again, Vaughn intercepted them.

He danced around the Bludger again, dodging and weaving like it was all a game. The twins couldn't get close without risking being hit themselves.

Down below, Ron clenched his fists, watching the sky like it was a battlefield.

But he didn't know who to root for.

And not far from him, Hermione looked just as torn.

Harry nearly got knocked off again. Fred finally broke free of Vaughn's blockade and rushed to help. Only then did Ron and Hermione breathe again.

"Vaughn's gone too far!" Ron snapped. "He's going to kill Harry at this rate!"

Before Hermione could respond, a deep voice behind them spoke up.

"Vaughn's not the captain. He's just following orders."

"Hagrid?! When did you get here?"

"Oh, just now. Brought some rock cakes. Want to try one?"

The two politely declined. Their teeth still hadn't forgiven the last time.