Chapter 9

Harry Potter was proud to declare, he was the youngest member in Quidditch history of playing professional.

In spite he did not parade it to anyone, he was itching in excitement and was ready to burst. It's simply extraordinary for a player whose age young as him, joined one of the Quidditch professional clubs but here he is, currently dressed in his own Puddlemere Jersey, robes of navy-blue emblazon with two crossed golden bull rushes. He rushed down the stadium, toiling behind his teammates. He was awed with all the sights around him. So many people crowded in one stadium and they all rolled up to see the game. He didn't know what to make of it, whether to be quavering in edginess or just breakdown at the sheer number of the large crowds.

Harry never experienced anything like it.

His heart was thumping rapidly, too loud. He swore anyone in the proximity could hear his heart beating. Not to mention, the crowds were flocking to them, but respectfully gave them a pathway to the changing room for their preparation of the match with Caerphilly Catapults. He was thankful that he was in the middle of the group. That way, no one get to see him. His admittance on being the member of Puddlemere United hasn't leaked out yet as there hasn't been any news regarding it. He steadied his breath, inhaling and exhaling. It's just his luck that the media hadn't discovered anything about him yet. Now, Harry marveled if accepting the offer from Mr. Gandalf was the right thing to do. Gulping at the cheer from the crowds, he imposed his legs to stop shaking. The noise banged against his eardrums powerfully. This is so unlike him at all.

As a hand clamped on one of his shoulders, his body stiffened. Looking over his shoulder, Jocelind Wadcock smiled at the young fellow in front of him. "Nervous, mate?" Harry shook his head, a bit too rapid, not trusting his own voice.

The captain approached him a few days ago along with the other main players. They all congratulated him of his achievements in the team and some were awed because of how fast Harry rose up in just a short amount of time. In all honesty, Harry was flattered with them. What he knew was that the captain was definitely Jocelind Wadcock, the other chaser was the once Holyhead Harpies star chaser, Wilda Griffiths and the oldest player of Puddlemere, Brien Carras, also a chaser. There were two beaters, Maxwell Montmerry and Katy Fonger, the star seeker, Benjy Williams and the skilful keeper, Casper Doukas.

His deep blue eyes glittered in hilarity. "Don't worry, mate. The first time is kind of panicky to everyone else, but you'll be fine after some time. Trust me, you'll get used to it." Harry just nodded his head, though not heeding what Wadcock said to him.

Damn it, he was nervous as hell. He never felt anything like it. He had fewer words with Lord Greengrass in Puddlemere's headquarters wherein it staggered everyone with the exception of Gandalf and Deverill. The man was seeking to ease Harry's nervousness, but it won't do well with him trembling in anxiety all the time. Who wouldn't anyway? With this large crowd watching them, it was nerve breaking. Nonetheless, with all the nervousness building inside him, it gradually ebbed away once he watched the game between Puddlemere United and Caerphilly Catapults. His eyes were like a hawk observing the game, calculating their movements.

He wasn't surprised how spectacular each player played their game given that he attended one of the games before with the Greengrass. He even spotted the snitch after fifteen minutes of the game, though, just hearing the thousands of cheers is breathtaking. Still, he's not ready to play with a thousand pairs of eyes following every of his movement. He preferred to just butt out of it. True to Coach's words, the reserve players have slim chances on playing the game since the main players handle any injuries very well. Harry was relieved after the game ended and Puddlemere won the first game by 840 to 670, going on for two hours and thirty minutes. It's because the snitch was much harder and faster to catch, compared to Hogwarts'.

That night, Harry had the first taste of what professionals were like when they celebrated their first victory.

30 July 1992.

For nearly a month, the team had seven games and Harry attended all Puddlemere's matches as one of the reserve chasers.

The nervousness inside him was no longer there once he watched the games. He, by now, had gotten used to it. He still went on with the daily training regime. Due to his vigorous training given by Puddlemere, his body grew to be more attractive than normal. That, and he happened to add extra vigorous training to himself. His charms increased further because of it. He didn't know if he was pleased or should groan at it. His muscles aren't that big, they're just moderate. His body is gorgeously cut, making him simply more attractive, nothing more. It did cause the girls to blush furiously when he wore just a sleeveless Muggle shirt at the time he and their families assembled in Daphne's estate.

It became a common thing for them to be gathering in the Greengrass mansion. William was even kind enough to install a floo network in the Campbell's house. That way, they won't have to take the underground tunnels through the Leaky Cauldron to get to the Wizarding world. The first time Astoria set her sight on her crush's recent transformation, was the day she lost her ability to speak, mouth closing and opening consistently. In truth, her voice momentarily disappeared when he was around her. Harry considered her common blush for him was impressive, nice shades of red but nothing compared to her new blush. Harry was sure her face looks exactly like a ripe of tomato, akin to it.

Thanks to that, he had been getting timid glares from Regine's little brother, Noah. He also became an idol to the twins, Regine's baby brothers. The older ones were no different than their daughters, they also blushed at his new gorgeous looks which Harry was greatly uncomfortable of. Thankfully, their husbands didn't fault him for it, only scolded their wives when the couples were out of earshot. Elizabeth merely smiled brightly to him and complimented his looks without a blush on her face, stating he grew a lot in the last month which she approved of, satisfied with it.

He was thankful with that because he viewed Elizabeth as a mothering figure. It would be awkward for him if she possessed a slight attraction to his appearance, but she was never like that. She just treated him as if she was her son. His heart soared at the simple thought and with all that, he's still oblivious on how much he affected the females in most occasions. Harry was and always will be an idiot once he relates himself to these kinds of emotions and feelings. It's to be expected considering how his upbringing was, and that is why he cannot be blamed for it.

"All right, gather up!" Deverill bellowed, his voice resonated in the changing room. "Hurry up, you cowards! Gather up, I say!"

Every player fastened their doings and rushed to their coach, lining up. Harry shuffled his way to them, taking his place on the back.

"Listen to me, you bunch of useless idiots, this is it," Deverill began his inspirational speech in the locker room. "This is our time, our moment, our life and our bonus depend on this, on this game! This game, every inch of it, our life is at stake here! I live to win, not to lose and that goes the same to you cowards! If we beat Montrose Magpies, then we're on our way to the finals. Hear the crowds roar for you, never forget their screams and support for Puddlemere, for you! Play your best out there and thrash those sissies! We aim to win, aim for the cup, not to lose! Let's liven up the once great Puddlemere United name! So go out there and show them what you made of! Show them why you are a Puddlemere's!" Harry's heart skipped a beat at the speech, however, he grumbled when, "Or else you all will be responsible for cleaning the club without any magic, just bare hands, scrubbing everything!" Deverill threatened, glaring at each them. Their face dramatically paled. Harry rolled his eyes, way to ruin the moment. "Play your best and for Merlin sake, win, damn it!"

"Alright, Puddlemere on three!" Deverill roared, placing his right hand in front of the group. His hand then flooded with many hands from the players, including Harry's. "One, two, three…"

"PUDDLEMERE!" Harry swore the room vibrated by the boom they had just created. After that, Harry took his place outside and sat on the bench that had been provided for the reserve players, staring at the main players stepping on the field. Today, he didn't know why, but he had a sinking feeling that something terrible was going to happen and damn, he was fidgeting in anxiety.

"Welcome ladies and gentleman to the semi-final of British and Irish league tournament. We are here to watch the Puddlemere United against Montrose Magpies, battling each other for the spot in the finals. I'm Marvin Gudabin, your commentator for today along with my partner, Arnold Volger." A deep voice echoed in the stadium, loud for everyone to hear it.

"Right you are, Marv, this is the moment we all get to see- to see who will take on Ballycastle Bats in the finals. The conflicts and tensions between the two sides are clearly palpable to our Quidditch fans out there. I don't know if I could handle that kind of pressure if I was in the middle of the two teams, Marv." This voice was much more different than the last commentator, more enlightened.

"Well, we'll just see which team will be qualified to go on to the finals. Both teams are in their top and best condition this year, ready to take on anything that each team throws at each other."

"I agree, Marv. It's hard to say who's going to win the match now, but I have my bets on Magpies, all people do. Puddlemere is just losing its touch these days, I tell you. What they need is a fresh player to carry them all the way to the top and I sure hope they find some talented player or they're just going to be disappointed with how the match goes."

"Let's just hope Puddlemere United has what it takes to beat Montrose Magpies, Arnold."

"I can't argue with you on that, Marv."

"And we're here live in Ellis Moor Quidditch stadium filled with many fans cheering for two teams," proclaimed the commentator.

Today was the semi-final match between Puddlemere United and Montrose Magpies. All the tickets were sold out and the crowds were larger than any of the previous matches. The girls attended the semi-final match in a special booth, more spacious and larger than the rest in the stadium.

It was reserved for only the Greengrass, but they brought along their friends to watch the game, thinking it would be more fun in groups than by themselves. Three girls were actually excited to see how professional game goes, especially Sheila. She couldn't sit still in her seat, hopping giddily. She was joined by her father as both father and daughter are Quidditch fanatics. Funnily, William shared their enthusiasm in Quidditch. Despite the Jonnet was a wealthy and pureblood family, they never managed to get a ticket or two for the game, and now Daphne's father invited them, they were thrilled. Thrilled was far from it, in their case.

Callista's family was awed by the place, both parents and daughter alike. Elizabeth was happy enough in enlightening them the details of the stadium, how the magic works and all. It's not easy to bring two Muggles here, but with the Greengrass' influence, it's easy enough. Regine's family was not far behind them. They wore looks of admiration on their faces. Even though, they had become somewhat familiar on their own quite well in the Wizarding world, they never had the privilege to be in such higher places, considering their families were half-bloods. The children are, only the father is a Pureblood and the mother is a Muggle-born.

"Hey, do you think Harry gets to play in the game?" Sheila screamed enthusiastically. "Hey, put Harry in the game!"

Daphne cringed, covering her ears with both of her hands. "Jonnet! You don't have to shout, I can hear you because I'm right next to you! And I don't know!" she growled, glaring the perky girl.

Sheila didn't pay attention to Daphne as she whooped in exhilaration. Daphne's eyes twitched in annoyance and averted her eyes to her two other best friends on her left side. Her eyes comically bulged at both girls, blanched. They both were wearing accessories of Puddlemere's, long hats, scarves and other silly things of Puddlemere. The fact that they were cheering for Puddlemere was what amazed her.

"Come on, I want to see some fucking blood! Not this!"

"Callista, what are you saying?" Daphne couldn't believe what her ears were taking in from her gentle friend.

The girl gave an igneous look to Daphne, fluttering her eye lashes innocently. "Yes?"

"What's taking you all so long? We didn't pay the tickets to wait and listen to boring speeches! Get on with it! We came here for the game! For the game, you shitless arseholes! Oy! Can you hear me?"

"Regine!" Daphne shrieked incredulously, appalled of their behavior. She could understand Sheila but...them?

"What?" Regine said, shrugging her shoulders offhandedly. "It's no fun without cheering something, even though we didn't actually buy the tickets, it's not like anyone is going to hear a word from out of my mouth."

Daphne slapped her forehead, running it down her face and shaking her head in mortification. She centered her attention to the accessories now. "What are you two wearing?" Daphne demanded, her voice overwhelmed by the crowds.

They stopped cheering, reclaiming their seats and they looked at her oddly. "It's to support Puddlemere, Daph and its fun..." Regine answered. Perching on her left shoulder, her red owl was happily hooting, donning a small scarf of Puddlemere around its neck and a small jersey fitted for it.

"Take it off, you two," Daphne commanded sternly. "Take it off, now!"

"Come now, Daphne. This is the precise time for us to blow our steam off. O.W.L is coming soon so let's have a splendid time while it lasts. There is no harm in doing it, right? This way, we can show our support to Harry as well."

Callista grinned at her Slytherin friend. Regine shared the same grin.

"I agree... in fact-" The two girls traded mischievous grins, eyes glimmering and they pulled another Puddlemere's long hat out of nowhere. Daphne's eyes grew wide at that. She backed away from them without thinking. "-You should join our happy little charade."

"Oh no! Take another step and I'll curse you both with some hideous spells. Don't test my patience!" They both presented her their best puppy dog eyes. "Don't give me those looks! Stop it and I mean it. No! Just drop it, you two!" In the end, she capitulated, nodding her head dismally. "Fine..."

The two girls cheerfully situated the hat on top of Daphne's head, inserting a scarf around her neck. Daphne grunted in her seat, crossing her arms morosely. She knew she shouldn't come here, but the three were unyielding for her to go with them. She just couldn't resist their pleas.

"Hey, where's mine?" Sheila hurtfully stated, believing they had forgotten her.

Grinning widely, the girls yanked out another hat for Sheila and handed it to her. Snatching it, Sheila giddily placed it on her head. She wore the scarf around her neck too, grinning widely. Now, all four girls were dressed in the exact same accessories except for their attire, of course. Three of the girls grinned with each other more before they carried on with their own cheering, cursing someone or whatever. Daphne groaned loudly at the day she was having. This was why she hates Quidditch. She just hoped this day would be over quickly.

The groans from Puddlemere's fans were perceptible. Clenching his hands tightly together, Harry blew a stray of his hair away, right feet tapping impatiently. It was horrible, the team was getting crushed out there. Montrose Magpies led by 650 to 470, a difference of a hundred and eighty points. It had been going on for an hour and fifty-five minutes now. At first, the game was evenly matched and there was a clear balance between both sides, however, Harry began to doubt Brien Carras's performance. He wasn't playing like he usually did. Harry knew Carras was the oldest member of the team, judging the man was thirty-five years old. Narrowing his eyes at Carras, Harry's eyebrows shot up. He stood up abruptly, marching a quick way to Deverill, shoving a few people away.

"Coach!"

"Not now, kid! Get back to your place, we're in crisis here!" Deverill snapped irritatingly. "If this keeps up, we can kiss the cup farewell!"

Harry scowled in annoyance. "Carras is injured. Can't you see it? It's affecting his performance deeply. Every time he abruptly swerved his broom right, he clutched his right shoulder, wincing. It's seems serious, Coach."

"Good Lord, mother of Merlin, you're right, kid!" Deverill exclaimed after concentrating on Carras for a little while. "It must be those bloody bludgers he got hit earlier on. It was a repetitive multitude combo by the Magpies's beaters. Damn, at a time like this! Those beaters are really good, very good. Great, just what we need! More crisis!" He cursed under his breath, pondering on what to do. "No choice, we have to substitute Carras. If it keeps on, he'll be out of the game for the rest of season and I can't let that happen."

Before the Coach tried to warn the referee, a furious bludger assaulted Carras from the back, knocking him off his broom, causing him to lose the grip of the broom. Lucky for him, the distance wasn't really that high. Still, he must have taken quite a bit of damage from it. The crowds gasped as some stood up from their seats to see what happen to Carras. Time out was called by a bang from the referee's wand after he checked Carras at a closer range. Immediately, the members of Puddlemere rushed to Carras, transporting him to the changing room.

"Carras, Carras! Hey!" Deverill hastened to the man's side, kneeling down. "Can you still play?"

"Sorry, Coach, but I'm out for today. I thought I could keep up just then, but I was wrong," Carras croaked, grimacing at the stinginess in some part of his body. "You have to substitute me, Coach."

"That's okay Carras, you did a brilliant job. Leave this to your teammates." Carras nodded his head.

One of the employees levitated him, transferring him to the infirmary to see the team's healer.

"Coach, what are we going to do?" Jocelind Wadcock breathed heavily. His face was sweaty and his expression was alarm.

Griffiths stepped in front of the group, her face was full of worry. "Coach, if we lose this match, we won't be going to the finals. We already lost one game against Appleby Arrows, so we can't risk another chance of losing."

That's right, they already lost once. Although Puddlemere was leading that time, they still suffered a defeat when the opponent's seeker snatched the snitch. Whispers erupted, whispers of fretfulness in losing the game spread around the room. Deverill put a contemplating face, his forehead scrunched up, with him processing his brain. His eyes slowly descended on Harry, right hand rubbing his chin. Harry's eyes broadened at what the looks insinuated for him to do. Just like that, every person followed the coach's gaze in disbelief.

Wadcock looked somberly from Harry to his coach, unsure on his face. "Coach, you're sure about this?"

"We need the kid..." Deverill nodded his head firmly. "Potter, you're up!"

Harry's face completely drained of color, ashen white. With all those crowds, he wasn't convinced he'd perform excellently. Furthermore, this is a professional level, not like Hogwarts. Roy Raesly, a reserve chaser like Harry, protested this with instant outrage. "What? Coach, are you mad? He's not up for this! I've been holding one of the reserve chasers for four years straight and have way more experience than him! Let me play!"

"Raesly, are you the coach or am I?" Raesly was taken aback by the acid tone from his coach, mumbling his response in a negative answer.

"Good." Deverill grabbed Harry, hauling the boy violently from the horde of the people to have silent conversation.

"Coach, what the hell are you doing?" Harry remarked, face still a bit pale. "I thought we agreed that I'm not playing! I'm not ready for this yet! And now you're tossing me into the real game! Are you freaking insane?"

"I know that, kid. But we can't lose this game, we need your talents to catch up to those points. If we can just score the hoops nine times and then rely on Williams to catch the snitch, we'll win this game. Their seeker ain't that good, Williams can beat him. There's still a chance here and I'm not giving up this game just yet. I also know that without your amazing concentration and fortitude, we won't be able to pull this stunt. You're sharp, very sharp and that's why I chose you. We need this, kid, we need this more than anything to get to the final. Do you understand me, kid?" Deverill's hands grasped each one of Harry's shoulders, shaking his body. "This is also an opportunity for you, not just us but for you as well. This is your time to shine, kid, so get out there and play your best. Have faith in yourself."

Harry compressed his hands into a tight fist, grounding his teeth at the lack of choice. Closing his eyes, he nodded his head shakily, choosing to just get on with it. It's probably not that bad. If he could just overlook the crowds, then he'd be fine. Right, just focus on the game. Oh, who the hell is he kidding? He might be lucky enough to remain on the broom for five minutes!

"Good. Go get your broom, Potter, and demonstrate it to the crowds why you're on Puddlemere's." There's a bang-like sound on someone's wand, indicating the time out was already over, resuming the game once more. "Good luck, kid."

Wadcock handed Harry his broom. "Just be cool and follow the rhythm of our plays, mate." Wadcock's stomach twisted into a bad lurch when Harry wasn't listening to him. Harry was too occupied with his musings and his worry seemed like taking over his emotion. "Potter!" Harry reverted to reality. "Stop worrying so much and let's go!"

"I can't believe what I'm seeing here, Marv." Arnold commented, clearly surprise, rising up from his seat to get a better view. "Is that a new player on the field? Are you seeing what I'm seeing, Marv?"

"I'm not too sure, Arnold. We have never seen this player in any of the matches before, no less in action. Unmistakably, Puddlemere indeed has some fresh players." Marvin groped through some of the papers that were lying on the desk, searching for the new player identification. "Ah, here it is. Well, I think everyone will want to listen this. This player is actually the youngest player ever to join a professional Quidditch club since 1962. His age is fourteen and to be specific, fifteen this year. He was recruited a month ago by one of Puddlemere's famous scouts, Peter Gandalf. Apparently, this player is so talented with brooms that he was given a proposal to join Puddlemere United nearly in an instant. His name is Harry Potter... Potter? Merlin, he's the brother of the boy-who-lived?"

"I didn't know he had a brother, Marv." Arnold's words boomed throughout the stadium, visibly shocked.

"It appears it's true, Harry Potter is the brother to the boy-who-lived. That is quite a shock and I'm certain everyone in the stadium feels the same."

"Well, whatever, Marv. When I meant fresh player, I didn't mean it literally. This kid is out of his league even if he is the brother to the boy-who-lived. Is this kid even good?"

"We'll just have to witness how good this player is."

"Right you are, Marv. Right you are..."

"Merlin, Harry gets to play!" Sheila yelled excitedly, her omnicular locked on Harry. "Lucky sod, I wish I'm in his shoes right about now."

Removing her omnicular temporarily, Callista put it on again. "Something is not right with Harry," she asserted this piece of news to her best friends.

"You're right, he's not himself. I've never seen him acting like that." Regine gazed worriedly through the omnicular.

"Now that you two mention it, he's not himself." Sheila was now unease at how Harry was. Currently, he was mounting his broom to join his fellow teammates, but his flying wasn't suave like it usually was. "Hey, do you girls think he's all right?"

"I don't know, Sheila. I just hope he is." Azure eyes gleamed in concern for Harry.

Lowering her omnicular, Daphne nibbled her bottom lip at her assumption. "I think he's nervous... He's going through one of those nervous breakdowns that a player usually undergoes in one of their matches." That statement made all three girls confirming his condition once more.

"He is nervous, really, really nervous," Regine verified, sharing the deep concern of her three friends.

"Oh, Harry, I hope he's going to be all right. I'm not comfortable seeing him in this state. He never showed this side of himself to me before nor have I witness it."

"You're not the only one, Callista," said Sheila, distraughtly. "This is bad. His confidence is nowhere."

"Let's just hope and pray he's going to be fine for the rest of the game…" spoke Daphne, influencing the three girls with positive thoughts.

They're not too confident with her words. All four were too concerned for Harry. In all their times with him, Harry was never like this, troubled and in fear of something. Just watching him like this from afar, really instigated them into wishing to be there with him. At the present, they felt helpless and useless to him for being unable to do anything about the predicament he's in. Now, they simply sat in their seats and contained their worries for him.

Harry couldn't move, he was frozen, hovering in the air on his Nimbus 2001. The color in his face faded, there was nothing but white on his face, his eyes almost popped out. His hands were shaking like crazy, gripping the handle of the broom. His eyes roamed the whole stadium and gulped audibly at it. When he was on the field, the crowds were much larger than what they appeared to be.

"Potter!" His head moved to the captain in a snail pace. "Just calm down! Just play the game like you always do!" The answer Wadcock got was a rigid nod. That's not a good sign coming from anybody. Putting his focus on the game, he looked ahead of himself. "Here they come, Potter!"

Harry forcefully concentrated his mind on the game, facing to the front. He saw three chasers of the opposing team dashing to the goal post in amazing speed. "Okay, let's use one to one. Wilda, mark the one on the left, Angus Fulber. Potter, yours is on the right, Alasdair Maddock. I'll take care of their captain, Fabius Watkins." Instantly, two older chasers kicked their brooms to their opponents.

Harry looked wildly at the two, panic on his face. At that, the chaser he was supposed to mark, slipped past him easily. "Potter! Don't let him get past you!" Harry snapped at the captain's voice and chased after Maddock. His body was quivering, his flying was not going smooth as he lagged behind the chaser, not able to keep up with the man even if his broom is much faster than the man's Nimbus 2000.

"Potter, the Quaffle! Watkins passed it to Maddock! Get it!" Harry glanced at the Quaffle as it flew to Maddock.

He reached out for the Quaffle, intercepting their pass, but he missed it. Maddock caught it and soared quickly to the goal posts. Harry just stayed in the position, looking very stupid. "Get him, Potter! Your broom is a lot faster than his! Don't let him score!" Hearing that, Harry wobbly raced to Maddock, attempting to steal the Quaffle from the man's possession, but he still fell behind. Maddock, without delaying any time, threw the Quaffle strongly in the direction of the goal posts.

Drawing a sharp breath, Harry watched from afar as the Quaffle slid through the hoop. Keeper Casper Doukas wasn't hasty enough to block the Quaffle from going in. Harry breathed heavily, even if he was in the field for only a few minutes. He looked down, eyes broadened. The groans from the crowds were perceptible and loud for him. His heart was beating riotously. Griffiths flew to his side, "It's okay, Harry, we'll get the next one. Just try your very best in calming down." Harry nodded his head unsteadily, his body was sweating like a pig.

"Forget the last goal and let's begin the assault! We need to boost our morals!" Wadcock hollered, Quaffle in his arm. "Come on!"

With that, two chasers started their attack. Harry shook his head out of his stupor and flew to Wadcock's right side. Wilda was on Wadcock's left side. "Split up and confuse them!" Harry swerved his broom, creating a distance from the captain. The thing was that no one was pursuing Harry, deeming him as no threat to their team. Wadcock endeavored to out-fly two chasers that were tailing him behind, but it was no use. When both locked him on each of his sides, he had no choice other than to pass it to Harry. "Potter!" Harry, in his case, snapped at the voice as the Quaffle directed to him.

It was an easy catch for a chaser, but as Harry endeavored to grab it, it just elapsed from his hand. By now, his nervousness escalated. The crowds cried out loud in disappointment, cursing at the player's stupidity. He breathed more heavily, his body was discharging more sweat, drenching his robe. Coach Deverill wasn't doing too well at the kid's performance and he too moaned at it. That was an obviously easy pass and no one was marking him. It was a catastrophe. The girls and their families weren't doing too good either at what Harry was doing. He wasn't himself. This was humiliating, the biggest humiliation a player ever faced in Quidditch history and with this large of a crowd, it just added more embarrassment.

In spite of thousands of people in the stadium, Harry's sharp eyes suddenly seized a form of a person body on one of the stands. Time seemed to be moving slowly. It was a man, adorned in a white worn ancient-like cloak. Harry's eyes lingered some more on the man. He couldn't identify his face since the hood is concealing the man's face, nonetheless, he saw a smile shaping the man's lips, a creepy enchanting smile. There were wrinkles around the man's lips. Harry blinked his eyes one time in slow motion and just as he reopened his eyes, the man was gone, faded away to somewhere. Harry would've recognized the smile anywhere. The familiar smile he had put up for years. The same smile that made his skin crawl.

"Harry, watch out!" Wilda warned. It was too late when a furious bludger stroke his body directly, pounding him off his broom. Some of the crowds cringed at that hit and Harry Potter fell from his broom, plummeting to the ground with a thud. Both of Magpie's beaters high-fived each other at his fall, smirking and chuckling. Harry's eyes were all blurry, looking at the stadium. Sitting upright, he gritted his teeth, clutching his stomach. He coughed in obvious pain, feeling nausea rise up. It was no good, he wasn't any used to the team. He shut his eyes tightly, wishing to just disappear from the world. In his life, he never felt so humiliated.

Laughter...

His brain ripened in maturity the day he turned to five. The very day, he developed an independent streak for himself.

Laughter...

Aged six, he was completely forgotten by his parents. They swept his existence as if he was air or dust.

More laughter...

Aged seven, he remembered his first time stepping into the outside world without his parents by his side.

People were laughing while he monitored them from afar...

Aged eight, he encountered Merlin, having a battle with himself in grasping how the legendary wizard was still alive after all this time.

Why they were having a fun time without him...

Aged nine, he was determined for an acknowledgement of his parents.

He was crying alone in the dark and no one came to get him...

Aged ten, he gave up on his parents' affection, thinking it was useless to hope.

…

Aged eleven, happiness found him when fate introduced him to four unique girls. First time in six years, he felt content and happy. It was because of them that he was here. Would he just give up on himself because of being nervous? They never gave up on him, no matter what the circumstances were. What will they say if they saw him like this? Come to think of it, they never saw him like this, in a time of weakness.

Still, if they were beside him… Sheila would encourage him to get up. Regine would be worry about his health more. Callista would believe in him all the way. Daphne would support him to the very end. The humiliation be damned! All they care about is just him, their focus was on him, not the humiliation.

He opened his eyes wide and large to the world, reverting himself back to the reality. His head wasn't in pain anymore, his heart wasn't thumping madly anymore, his body wasn't quaking anymore and he wasn't nervous as hell anymore. "Hey, kid!" Harry looked up at the referee who was on the broom. "Are you up to play?" Harry tilted his head at the silly question. "Yeah…" Standing up, he nonchalantly brushed the dirt from his attire and without a care he coolly walked to his broom, mounting up and mildly flew up in the air. He eyed the crowds all around and permitted a smirk to coil his lips.

"Phillbert! Just give him one more chance!" Gandalf argued hotly. He scuttled over to the Puddlemere's locker room after Harry clambered back to his broom. "He'll do better after this!"

"Forget it, Gandalf! It's clear the kid isn't ready yet! This is an embarrassment to him and to Puddlemere!" Deverill hollered angrily. "I made a big mistake on shoving him into the real match!" The coach waited patiently for Raesly to drop around them. He creased his forehead when his old friend didn't retort back. "Gandalf, why are you-" he ceased his sentences as he tracked what captured Gandalf interest, "Raesly, go back and take a seat…" Deverill absently said. He also noticed the sudden change in Harry's expression.

"But- but Coach, I'm ready!"

"Don't make me repeat myself," Deverill hissed. Raesly scurried back to his previous seat, knowing what's best for him.

Harry placidly moved to his teammates. "Mate, are you all right?" Wadcock asked, rage no longer clouded his sight at Harry's terrible performance.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry responded. His eyes weren't bulged anymore, they were half-lidded, darting to Wadcock's eyes. The two older chasers were astounded at this sudden of transformation, it was like Harry swapped himself into someone else and so abrupt too. Harry was ignoring the angry shouts from the crowds, concentrating more on the game. Wadcock shared a look with Wilda and they both nodded their heads.

"All right, Potter, let's try this again. You take on Maddock and the rest of them, leave it to us."

Harry bobbed his head confidently, commanding his broom to it. Both chasers stirred their brooms towards the other chasers, not worried about Harry any longer, even though he was in bad shape just then. It was just seeing Harry changed so suddenly feels like the heavy burden on their shoulders lifted, and now playing without concern of the scores. Watkins didn't waste time and threw the Quaffle swiftly to Maddock, given that it's the fresh player that was the team's main weakness. Wadcock's eyes widened when Harry wasn't marking Maddock.

He was amazed when the Quaffle was effortlessly intercepted by none other than Harry. Smirking more than ever, eyes sparkled maniacally, Harry took off in a rush speed, pushing the broom to its maximum limit. He never did exert this broom to the limit before, so he'd see what it was really capable of, it's true potential. Everyone in the stadium, including the players themselves, was momentarily flabbergasted at the unexpected speed. What Harry did was extreme, very extreme. If anyone was to observe the boy closely, they could see he was enjoying it.

Only when the Magpies's coach shouted to focus on the game did the players snapped out of their reverie.

The beaters swiftly adopted their defensive stances, determined to knock Harry again. Harry, by himself, plunged straight into their defense. Deverill shouted to Wadcock and Griffiths to support the kid. Harry didn't care. His sight was on the goal post. One of the beaters sent the first bludger to disorder Harry's flying and then, the other beater sent the second one. Harry, with a resolve scowl on his face, budged his broom, missing the first one by inches, then reclaimed back his previous position of flying, missing another bludger by inches as well. He rushed past the beaters coolly, discarding their presence there, not retarding his broom from the current high speed.

Of course, that gave another huge shock to everyone, especially how he dodged the bludgers with ease.

Players usually swerved their broom violently, just to escape a furious bludger. Clenching the Quaffle in his right hand tightly, Harry tossed it powerfully. The keeper was prepared for him, but was taken aback at how powerful the throw was, accurate too. He didn't have time to react and it brought about a score to Puddlemere. There was no cheering since the crowds were too astonished by Harry's performance. Harry whizzed back to the defensive, slipping to Wadcock's side. The Puddlemere captain fluttered his eyes at this so as Griffiths, too dumbfounded to even pay a compliment. It didn't look like he required any of their assistance just now.

As the Magpies were not affected by the score, they hastened to score some points for themselves. This time, they changed their tactics by closing in to the goal posts, displaying remarkable teamwork and shaking Puddlemere's defenses. The Puddlemere's beaters, Maxwell Montmerry and Katy Fonger, struggled their best to strike them really hard. Harry just stayed still, eyes tracking them, regardless of how complicated it was. Figuring out their pass in just a nick of time, he intercepted the Quaffle when Watkins released the Quaffle to Fulber.

At that, Harry merely whooshed to the goal posts, not waiting for his teammates. It was second time that everyone got a big surprise coming from the newbie. The opponent's beaters dismissed their shock as they used one of the famous Quidditch tactics, Dopplebeater Defense, not holding back their strength. Both beaters strike the bludgers at the same time, doubling the force. They hurled two bludgers in route to Harry's direction. Harry smirked at this. They were obviously aiming for his head and so in accordance to it, he moved his head coolly to avoid the bludgers, both narrowly missing his face.

He grinned at their looks, their mouths were hanging open. Who did they think they were? He was trained by the most powerful man in the world. No one can compete with his reflexes and instinct. Charging straight up, he bumped both of them by the shoulder at top speed, amazingly knocking both beaters from their brooms. It wasn't illegal, Harry knew that. Not long, there were loud cheers from the crowds at the true performance Harry bestowed upon them. It was spectacular. Harry faked a convincing throw for the keeper and he took it. Harry, then, threw it to the last goal post, scoring again. He smirked arrogantly. That's Sheila signature move.

Harry retreated and recommenced his defensive position. "Great job, Potter! In no time we can score another eight hoops before Williams gets the snitch." Wadcock grinned, excitedly patting the young fellow on the back again and again.

"What do you mean eight hoops? We're going to even the odds." Harry kicked off his broom to Watkins, sneakily stealing the Quaffle. The chasers were too stunned to react as Harry feinted and slammed the Quaffle, passing the Magpies's keeper, scoring yet again. That steal was flawless and the boy did it in a fast speed. "My specialties are stealing and fast attack," Harry informed his other two teammates.

Little by little, a large grin swiped Wadcock's lips. He could feel it, the victory was now in their grasp. The other Puddlemere players shared the same feeling as well. There was no doubt in their minds that they were lucky to have Harry. All around, the crowds were now cheering loudly for Puddlemere. Too caught up in their conversation, three Magpies chasers slithered past their defensive lines, past the beaters as well, darting to the keeper. Shaking out of his stupor, Doukas steeled himself for the attack.

Watkins closed in on the last goal posts on the right and Doukas followed him. The keeper's eyes widened when he realized the Quaffle was not with Watkins. He took the bait. He rotated his neck, just in time to witness Maddock flung the Quaffle to the other goal posts. He couldn't reach that even if he tried it, but a grin split his face when Harry halted the Quaffle from entering the hoop, barely. Harry passed it to Griffiths at once and accelerated his broom to the Magpies' keeper, followed by the rest of the chasers.

Calling out for Harry, Griffiths passed the Quaffle back to him. He seized it without looking at the Quaffle. Dodging the bludgers, he dived suddenly, shrugging off the two chasers behind him. It worked as the chasers were caught by surprise. Veering his broom to the left, he managed to escape Watkins from stealing the Quaffle, but the man was persistent. Harry glanced at him over his shoulder. This time he jerked his broom up the notch.

With the speed, Harry quickly hurled the Quaffle with such force, scoring another for Puddlemere. The crowds were now going crazy, their voices intensified further. The sound around the stadium was deafening, even the voice of the commentators were crushed by the crowds. It's the fourth time

Harry scored and he was on a streak too, not granting the opposing team any possibility to score.

"What a score from Harry Potter!" Marvin announced. "And, this is his fourth time in a row. It's his first day view and yet he bested every player out there! At first, we see Potter isn't that good, but now we're reconsidering that opinion greatly. What do you think, Arnold?"

"I tell you what, Marv," Arnold drawled in a calm tone before he was on his feet, knocking the chair backward and screamed loudly, "He's bloody brilliant! Did you see how he avoided the bludgers without effort? I mean who is this kid? Where in blue blazes did he come from? He was magnificent, Marv! Words can't even begin to describe it! I take everything that I said about him and just swallow those words! The kid is amazing, never in all my years as a commentator and spectator alike, have I ever witnessed such a performance! I- I-" He slumped back on his seat. "I'm overwhelmed, Marv...overwhelmed by the kid."

"There's no disagreeing with your words, my good friend. Even I'm speechless at the performance he was giving us."

The Magpies's keeper cursed at this, grasping hold of the Quaffle and carelessly pitched it to Watkins. Before anyone could react, Harry came into the view in a blur. He kicked the Quaffle, directing it to one of the hoops, scoring one more for Puddlemere. The referee counted the score given that the game began again when the keeper released the Quaffle from his possession. The crowds went nuts this time, screaming at the top of their lungs and rooting for Harry, not caring about the loss of their vocal box at the end of the day.

"Did you see that, Marv? Did you see that? That was so sudden! It's that really legal?" The magical screen centered on Harry's face. A smirk on his face caused a blow up of delight shrieks from the females. It was irresistible.

"Yes, it was unexpected! Each of us was caught by the surprise. The referee stated that it is legal which means another score for Puddlemere and that's Potter five and Magpies zero. What an incredible young lad! There's no denying anymore, ladies and gentleman, Puddlemere have found a very talented player, youngest player ever to play in professional Quidditch matches and that is, Harry Potter!" The crowds burst to cheer in a barbaric manner.

Back at the Greengrass special stand, they were also cheering like the rest of the crowds. They were no longer distressed by his rather eccentric episode and behavior. Astoria was rooting loudly for her huge crush, on her father's shoulders, screeching Harry's name. Her father didn't mind this at all, merely glad he came for the game. They both were joined by Ethan and Nathan, the twins, chanting their idol's name annoyingly. Noah, for his part, was all sulky, though clapped his hands absentmindedly and was awed when Harry performed his position as a chaser marvelously. The rest also cheered for Harry.

Elizabeth was worried about Harry's well-being at first, nearly telling William to get Harry out of the field, but found herself enjoying the game as it progressed. It was the first Quidditch game she ever found entertaining. William and Sheila's fathers were acting childishly, cheering for the game. Both led their wives to shake their heads at how their husbands were. Where's their pureblood mannerism? Callista's parents were more fascinated by how the playing was, discovered it to be more brutal than most of Muggle sports. Regine's parents were trying to soothe their youngest sons, but to no avail, as the twins kept running around the stand, chanting their idol's name.

Of course, the girls were in high-spirits now.

"Yeah, Harry! Show them what you got!" screamed Sheila, thrusting her hands in the air, almost slapping Daphne's face in the process.

"Go Harry! Kick their butts!" Callista was clapping her hands non-stop, smiling widely.

"Don't give up, Harry!" Regine yelled, her hands around her mouth, trying to amplify her voice. It was pointless as the crowds proved larger.

"Yeah, that's right, Potter! Show them no mercy! Don't give them any chances! Humiliate them! Rip them apart! Tear them to pieces! Crush their bones into ashes! Let them soak by their own blood!" Daphne shouted with a serious expression, her forehead was crunching. There was an eerie silence in their stand as all eyes affixed on Daphne, even the twins looked at her with wide eyes, no longer running. Daphne terminated her own cheer and quirked an eyebrow at all of them.

"What?" she said indifferently. "You have to admit, even I have a hard time in not succumbing to the temptations on cheering him... It's not like anyone is going to hear me, right?"

The hat Sheila was wearing slipped from her head and fell to the ground. Callista slackened her grip on the omnicular and it dropped down. Regine collapsed to her seat, almost squished her owl with her butt. Luckily, the owl flapped its wings hastily to get out of there. Hell must be frozen.

After Harry recovered from his breakdown, he went all out against the Magpies, not holding back. It was a tough play, the toughest Harry ever faced in his entire Quidditch career. Though he kept scoring, it was still hard for him to lose the chasers and evade the bludgers at the same time. They were marking him persistently, as they recognized him to be a serious danger to their team. Even so, Puddlemere gained an upper hand as the scores were now 710 to 590. Still though, the Magpies were in the lead.

Now, thirty-five minutes had passed, and yet the snitch was still not in the spectacle.

With no such luck, Williams had been searching for it the whole game. Striving for the Quaffle in Fulber's custody, he efficiently stole it causing the chaser to be fuming at Harry's successful attempt. He'd been doing that a lot in the match. The spectators cheered noisily in approval. They now knew Harry Potter was good at robbing the Quaffle without fouling. He, then, charged to the other side of the goal post, resolved to score more points. The Magpies's beaters were ready and they surrounded Harry, back and the front, striving to match his speed. They were furious with Harry now, incensed by the kid. Harry had to slow down when one of the beaters was blocking his path.

Immediately, they began their furious assaults against him. First, the front beater attacked him with a bludger and Harry budged his broom to sidestep from it. Subsequent to it, his eyes broadened when his senses told him about another attack from his back. He swiftly moved his head to the left, evading the bludger. He cursed to himself as his eyes widened more when the bludger returned back to him from the front. He ducked his head, dodging it. He dove abruptly downward when the same bludger assaulted him from the back. This was an impressive combo coming from the beaters and getting rid of them was tricky and challenging.

The commentators commented that Harry was in a tight situation but complimented him for the remarkable evasion of the bludger. Inhaling a huge breath, he took some risks. Sensing the bludger was about to attack him, he increased the broom's speed instead of avoiding the bludger like usual. Just as he was about to collide with the beater, who was blocking and in front of him, he performed a perfect Sloth Grip Roll, hanging upside down on his broom, shirking the bludger along the way. The beater didn't have time to deflect the bludger and he got smacked in the face by it. Harry smirked at this, chuckling slightly. The spectators roared, applauding at how igneous and devilish of him.

Still, hanging upside down, he simply zoomed to the goal posts. He chucked the Quaffle to the hoop. He did that in the middle of switching back to his normal flying position. He pumped his fist in the air once he scored again, celebrating for a short while. He flew back to his captain's side, bumping their fists together. He was aware Griffiths's breath was labored and Harry comprehended that it couldn't go on like this forever. The match had to end now. He averted his attention from the Quaffle and strayed his eyes throughout the stadium in search for the snitch. His eyes flashed and locked onto a golden snitch.

"Williams!" Harry shouted amidst the cheers. "The snitch is behind you!"

Williams' eyes bugged at that statement, whirling his broom around to catch the snitch. The snitch, though, was making it difficult for Williams as it shot away from the seeker. With a roar of a lion, Williams stretched out his one hand painfully for the snitch, just about to be in the palm of his hand, a little more. A heavy black bludger came pelting towards Williams. Gritting his teeth, the man continued to stick on the snitch no matter what, not drifting away. His eyes were as large as a tennis ball when the bludger grew closer. Out of the blue, he was saved by a hand, blocking the bludger from assailing him. It hit the person's forearm, smashing it. The crack was evident, perceiving the sound of a bone being shattered.

The bludger was, then, repelled to another direction. Williams was somewhat astonished to discover it was Harry Potter who saved him.

"The snitch!" Harry gasped the words, wincing at the searing pain he was in. His left arm was dangling uselessly at his side. Williams was touched at the sacrifice and he didn't let Harry down as he seized the snitch in a quick action, more determined than ever. The match ended by 740 to 710 with Puddlemere in the lead. Every person in the stadium rose from their seats and cheered at this, went wild at the unexpected end, with the birth of a new player who had created a new history of Quidditch. Harry, for his case, got mauled by his teammates once his feet touched the ground, hugging him enthusiastically. Harry endeavored in prying them away from him, more careful of his injured arm.

He groaned loudly when many more came sprinting to greet his winnings. He had to sidestep an excited jumping hug from Gandalf. The coach was grinning at him widely which freaked him out since he only got to see the man's gruff expression all the time. His cheeks got kissed by Griffiths and the beater, Fonger. He blushed a little at that, scowling at the affections. Then, before he knew it, he was lifted by Wadcock and Williams, treating him like a king and putting him on their shoulders. He was surprised at this as they all cheered his name. Absently, he brought his injured arm to his chest. The magical screen now directed to Harry, enlarging his form.

His arm that was throbbing in pain at the moment was completely forgotten due to many people greeted him, accompanied with many flashes and flicking noises nearby. The flashes of the cameras were blinding his eyes, however, he didn't bother to shield his eyes from it. The reporters began clicking madly when the people started throwing his body up in the air. Harry was truly flabbergasted with all the treatment he was receiving, didn't know how to react. He didn't even panic when he was being thrown in the air again and again. All his brain processed was that it would be a very long night and the following day would be a fucked up day.