![]() ![]() ![]() So far it was looking good on two out of three. Or possibly, somehow, both for he had promised that three wishes would be granted. In a distant era of history, maybe in another world entirely, Professor Quirrell had undertaken that the House Cup would be awarded to either Slytherin or Ravenclaw. ![]() "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CALM DOWN? THAT WAS THE WORST MISSED PLAY I'VE EVER SEEN! And the Snitch is gone - maybe gone for good, after being missed that badly - Pucey's heading off towards the goal posts, Inglebee's nowhere near him -" "To the merely acceptable Sharon Vizcaino, whose hair trails behind her like a comet as she blazes toward the Ravenclaw defense - now with two Bludgers in close pursuit! Pucey's on Sharon's tail - what are you doing, Inglebee? - and she swerves in midair to avoid - IS THAT THE SNITCH? GO, CHO CHANG, GO, HIGGS IS ALREADY - WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?" "And the Slytherins take possession - Flint hands off the Quaffle to the lovely -" Lee's voice cut out abruptly and Professor McGonagall's own amplified voice said, "That's the Ravenclaw team's own business, Mr. holy smokes, he's done it already! Smack through the center of the central hoop! I've never seen such a winning streak - I'm calling it right now for Davies becoming Captain next year after Bortan steps down -" "That's another ten points for Ravenclaw in seven. "Davies has the Quaffle!" shouted the amplified voice of Lee Jordan. It was the first Quidditch match Harry had attended at Hogwarts, and he'd already decided that it would be the last. ![]() Blue and green and yellow and red-trimmed robes shouted with the enthusiasm that people felt so easily when no action would be required from them personally. The red-purplish truncated tetrahedron that was the Quaffle was caught, tossed, blocked, and occasionally thrown through floating hoops, accompanied by stadium-rocking cries of triumph or dismay. In the air above the stadium, distant figures on broomsticks swooped and pirouetted and spun around each other. Not exam grades, certainly not death, it was only truth that finished a story.īut unless you bought Draco Malfoy's latest theory that Professor Sprout had been assigning and grading less homework around the time of Hermione being framed for attempted murder, thereby proving that Professor Sprout had been spending her time setting it up, the truth remained unfound.Īnd instead, like the world had priorities that were more like other people's way of thinking, the year was going to end with a climactic Quidditch match. died, it couldn't be allowed for Professor Quirrell to die without knowing the answer, without everything being neatly resolved. Certainly it had to be known by the time the Defense Professor. Somehow Harry had been thinking that, surely, all the truth would come out by the end of the school year like that was the end of a mystery novel and the mystery's answer had been promised him. Harry had wondered, a long time ago when he'd first read about that schedule, just what exactly the students did during the rest of the second week of June, since 'waiting for exam results' didn't sound like much and the answer had surprised him when he'd found out.īut now the second week of June was done as well, and it was Saturday there was nothing left of the year but the Leave-Taking Feast on the 14th and the Hogwarts Express ride on the 15th. Hogwarts tradition said that exams were given in the first week of June, that exam results were released the second week, and that in the third week, there would be the Leave-Taking Feast on Sunday and the Hogwarts Express transporting you to London on Monday. The Defense Professor himself would be in a healer's bed, this day, as he'd been for almost the last week. It was the last week of school in Hogwarts, and Professor Quirrell was still alive, barely. ![]()
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