QUIDDITCH
“Bin watchin’ from me hut,” said Hagrid, patting a large pair of
binoculars around his neck, “But it isn’t the same as bein’ in the
crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?”
“Nope,” said Ron. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.”
“Kept outta trouble, though, that’s somethin’,” said Hagrid, rais-
ing his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.
Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting
about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood’s
game plan.
“Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch,” Wood
had said. “We don’t want you attacked before you have to be.”
When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-
the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around
for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was
just a reflection from one of the Weasleys’ wristwatches, and once a
Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball
than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chas-
ing after it.
“All right there, Harry?” he had time to yell, as he beat the
Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.
“Slytherin in possession,” Lee Jordan was saying, “Chaser Pucey
ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds
toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?”
A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the
Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that
had passed his left ear.
Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward
after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it,
too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the
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