One afternoon, a couple of days before they were due to go back to school, they were all out in the garden, enjoying the last dregs of the summer sunshine. Hermione and Ginny were stretched out on a blanket by the pond, talking quietly and giggling every now and then; the two girls were thick as thieves this summer, and Harry sort-of wondered what they talked about all the time. From some of the looks they sent him before bursting into giggles, he probably didn't want to know.
Harry and the other boys were, as they often were, high in the air on their brooms. Bill had brought an old quaffle home with him, and they were tossing it between them, thinking up increasingly ridiculous forfeits for anyone who dropped it. Harry was currently having to sit sidesaddle on his broom, which made it even harder to catch future passes. He was doing alright, though; Charlie was working with one hand spelled behind his back, and it was not doing him any favours.
"This is ridiculous," the dragon tamer complained when the quaffle dropped to the ground below him. "I was never a chaser for a reason!" He swooped down to grab it, zooming back to the same level as the rest of them. "They're putting us seekers through our paces, eh?" he added to Harry with a grin. "If we had a snitch, we could show them."
Harry remembered the little wooden box tucked away in his trunk. "I've got a practice snitch," he volunteered. Charlie stared at him.
"And you're just mentioning this now? Poor show, Potter!" He shook his head exasperatedly. Then he grinned, eyes flashing in challenge. "Fancy a seeker's match?"
Harry, who — other than the one glorious day when Draco visited — had been chasing the snitch all summer without any real competition for it, smirked. "You're on." He landed and raced up to Ron's bedroom, squeezing through the extra beds and piles of clothing to get to his trunk, digging through until he found the box containing his practice snitch. When he got back out into the garden, all the boys had landed, and even Ginny and Hermione had abandoned their blanket, interested in the proceedings.
Bill held a hand out, and Harry passed him the box. "Alright, seekers," he announced, taking the whole thing incredibly seriously, though there was a curve to his lips he couldn't quite hide. "Here's the rules. Snitch gets a ten second head start, with your eyes closed. If it goes over the property line, we'll have to summon it back; don't want the muggles seeing anything they shouldn't. And I want a good, clean match, alright?" He was channelling Madam Hooch, and it made both seekers snicker.
Harry and Charlie shook hands, then mounted their brooms but kept their feet on the ground. Bill flicked the lid of the box open, and Harry's eyes were on the little golden ball as it unfurled its wings and shot off into the air. Bill cleared his throat, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. The other Weasley siblings started up a loud countdown, and even Hermione got involved halfway through. "Three… two… one… GO!"
Both seekers were off like a rocket, Harry much faster than Charlie. The older seeker was on one of the newer model Cleansweeps; an excellent broom, but no match for the Firebolt. He did a wide loop around the back yard, keeping his eyes peeled for a flash of gold.
Unable to help himself, Harry threw in a few of the tricks and rolls he'd been working on over the summer, earning whoops and cheers from their small audience. Charlie laughed as he tailed Harry through a particularly sharp Wollongong Shimmy. "You'll have to try better than that to lose me, Potter!"
Grinning at the challenge, Harry shot up high, and Charlie followed. All of a sudden, Harry caught a glimpse of the snitch down below, and his smirk widened. Time to really show off a bit. Turning the nose of his broom to the ground, he dived full speed downwards, Charlie following him with a shouted curse. Harry kept going, picking up speed, growing closer and closer to the grass. The rest of the world faded away, his focus narrowed entirely to his broom and the snitch hovering above the ground. He was vaguely aware when Charlie pulled out of the dive, not willing to risk his neck, but Harry waited until the last second, veering off course and reaching out as his toes skimmed the grass, grabbing the snitch on his way past.
Slowing to a halt, he held the gold ball up to a gobsmacked Charlie, winking. "Found it," he said. The redhead gaped.
"You certainly did, didn't you," he agreed faintly, drifting closer. "Blimey, Harry. I think Oliver might've actually been underplaying you a bit in his letters. That was some serious flying!" He ruffled Harry's hair, and Harry grinned at him. They returned to the ground, where the audience was cheering, and he even saw money exchange hands between Fred and Ron, the latter looking put-out.
"You bet against me?" Harry asked in mock-offence, redden.
watching
Ron's
ears
"Well, no offence mate, but Charlie was really good, and—" He stuttered out some half-hearted excuses, and Harry laughed.
"You could've just said you were showing family solidarity." He was still a little breathless, exhilarated from the tense flying. He turned back to the dragon tamer. "Want to go again? Swap brooms this time?" He wanted to make sure he wasn't relying too much on his fancy broom to get ahead. Charlie's eyes lit up.
"You'll let me ride your Firebolt?" he gasped. Harry nodded. "You're on! Best three out of five?" "What do I get for winning?" Harry asked cheekily, making Charlie bark out a laugh.
"Cocky little sod. If you win, I'll owe you a favour. To be called in at any time you like, no questions asked, even if it's to hex one of my siblings. Also I'll let you take the rest of that bottle of firewhisky to school," he added as an afterthought. "If I win, you'll owe me a favour, no questions asked. And I get to use your Firebolt as much as I like before you go back to school."
Harry would've let Charlie borrow his Firebolt anyway, so he agreed to the terms. Though he did wonder what kind of favour the dragon tamer might ask of him. He didn't plan on losing, so it was a moot point.
"So we're at one to Harry. Firebolt trades hands every round, and if it looks like whoever's riding it is winning because of that, Harry can take my broom," Bill declared, still in referee-mode. "Ready?"
They traded brooms, and the match began anew. Charlie was having a whale of a time on the Firebolt, zooming around and whooping in joy. Harry kept up with him fairly well on the Cleansweep, getting used to its speed and turning radius. Within the first few minutes, he had eyes on the snitch, and was off. Charlie was hot on his tail, overtaking him quickly, but Harry pulled out a tricky little manoeuvre that had him pulling in front again, hand closing around the snitch. They slowed to a halt, and Charlie stared at him. "Aw, fuck," he muttered. Harry snorted.
•
🚀New updates on my Ko-fi!🚀
Support me and read the novel, now available in PDF, with the advanced chapters.
•
https://ko-fi.com/cmrowling