HP : The Chronicles

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Looking back to this day, Harry would later realise it was the only time he could remember when Oliver didn't give them a speech at the beginning of the game. The Gryffindor captain was so intent on leaving Hogwarts with the best Quidditch season the school had ever seen, he had rendered himself speechless. Another first was entering the field and barely hearing the cheering of the crowd. The rain pouring down so hard he suspected the rest of the team couldn't hear them at all. The two captains shook hands and the game began.

Harry took of, keeping his broomstick as steady as possible, not that he had great success; the wind was so strong he had to hold on tighter than ever. He did a few circles around the field, mindful of the opposing Seeker; Oliver had been hopeful that, due to the ghastly weather, Cedric and his larger frame would be at disadvantage out in the field. The thing was that all the enchantments in the world could not fool the wind; even if nobody could see it, Harry had grown even more since he had hit puberty, his height reaching five feet six inches. Severus liked to say that he looked as if he had been hit by a stretching curse, gaining almost three inches in two months. Harry had just scowled as the potions master reapplied the concealment charms they used, even if Severus had persuaded him to let his newfound height show gradually as the year progressed.

Now however, the wind was giving him more trouble than he had expected; Harry did the best he could to locate the Snitch as fast as possible. The sooner he got back to the ground the better, especially considering his accident prone nature. Unknown to him, Severus was having the exact same thoughts; who in their right minds would allow a Quidditch game to commence under such weather conditions? Nobody, the potions master decided. But Albus Dumbledore, although a wizard of many graces, was decisively not sane. He shot a dirty look at said Headmaster and resumed watching the game just in time to catch Harry avoiding a Bludger aimed straight for his head quite spectacularly.

The green eyed wizard was clinging onto his broomstick for dear life as he searched around the field for the elusive golden Snitch. He thought he had caught sight of it once but a well aimed Bludger prevented him from further investigating. Not that it had been done on purpose; Cedric was just as lost as he was and seemed more intent to follow him around the course and just make sure he would be able to get to the Snitch faster once it had been spotted.

Harry had to admit the sixth year Hufflepuff was good. Following the opposing Seeker would have been what he would have chosen to do himself if he realised his opponent had better chances to get the Snitch than he had. But it was getting halfway annoying. He tried to trick him a couple of times and, though it partially worked, it was ultimately not worth his time; the weather was far too bad to execute more manoeuvres than necessary. Well, Harry thought as he looked at the rest of his team's players, at least the waterproof spells were holding; they were in the lead and looking much more comfortable than their opponents.

And while he was starting to get irritated at both the weather conditions and Cedric Diggory's seemingly endless chase of himself instead of the Snitch, he saw it; a golden light hovering right above the ground near the Hufflepuff hoops. With a wide smirk he dived, accelerating as fast as his broomstick would allow. It wasn't even a second into his descent when he felt it; the cold piercing his skin like a thousand needles, the still faint but gradually getting louder screams of a dying man ringing in his ears. Time seemed to stop as all cheering from the crowd fainted and everyone stood terrified at the entrance of the tall hooded forms of the Dementors.

Harry started getting dizzy; the pounding in his head was so unrelenting he almost thought he would loose his grip on the Nimbus. But in the end his eyes narrowed in anger and not in fear; he wouldn't freeze in the face of danger ever again; he had sworn so years ago and no Dementor would make him break his oath. He pulled out his wand and aimed at their general direction, gathering the happiest thoughts he could gather; his Firebolt, Severus's proud face once they left the Nimbus offices, his brother alive after every ordeal, himself laughing his heart out in various places of the world, laughing with Neville by the like for the first time realizing what true friendship felt like, saving Adrian…

"Expecto Patronum!" His voice boomed over the silent field as a huge burst of silver light announced the successful conjuring of his patronus. That was one spell that, no matter how advanced, Severus had agreed he should use openly. Smiling wide at the retreating ringing in his ears, he turned his attention back to the golden Snitch; the appearance of his patronus, although staggering, seemed to have broken the Dementors' spell over Hufflepuff's Seeker too; the blond boy had started diving too. And he had started his dive closer to the Snitch to begin with.

"Come on!" Harry urged his broomstick. "Faster!" He leaned as close as he could to the Nimbus and couldn't hold back his victorious laughter as he overtook Cedric and managed to get the tiny Snitch just seconds before the other Seeker. He flew upwards his fingers tight around the still straggling Snitch as Madam Hooch signalled the end of the game, Lee Jordan's voice shouting Gryffindor's victory to the heavens. He never remembered having gotten a more thunderous applause; it seemed that the crowd was roaring, the clapping booming louder than thunder. He hadn't even touched the ground when his team mates flew to hug him.

"A patronus!" Oliver exclaimed. "A real patronus! And you got the Snitch! Best. Seeker. Ever!" He had said everything very fast, probably in one breath and while holding onto Harry for dear life.

"You're suffocating him, Oliver!" Angelica called from somewhere over his left shoulder. She had a good point, a rapidly turning blue Harry noted. Before being able to think about being hugged to death, he was pried away from a now tearing up Oliver and was vividly congratulated by his team mates. Peeping over George's -or Fred's, he couldn't even begin to tell in that downpour- shoulder, his eyes searched for the resident potions master.

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