Ron Potter and the Next Generation by PEMDAS
Chapter Notes: What do you think this chapter could be about? Death Eaters attacking the Quidditch pitch and stealing glasses? Glasses vs. Death Eaters in a Quidditch match? You'll have to wait until validation to find out...
As soon as they got outside, Ron and Harry began combing through the bushes beneath Professor Potter’s office, looking for the object they’d dropped. Finally, Harry found it. “Over here!” he called to Ron, and the latter ran over to take the object from him...it was a pair of glasses.
But not just any glasses. A few years ago, after the death of Alastor Moody, Harry Potter did some research on his magical eye, and invented glasses that work in the same way. They could see through just about anything, just as Moody’s magical eye. Unfortunately, the new glasses impaired Harry’s sight, so he couldn’t wear them regularly, and he kept the glasses nearby, but never used them. As Ron had predicted, his father rarely thought about it.
“So why do we have to wait until Hogsmeade weekend again?” Harry asked Ron.
“C’mon, Harry, stay with it,” Ron said, sighing. “Whoever left the grounds would never try anything until then, since everyone is watching him or her since the incident that Saturday. Hogsmeade would be the simplest way for them to slip away.”
“Oh, gotcha,” Harry said, nodding. With that, they walked back up to the dormitories, so Ron could stow the glasses safely in his trunk.
Over the following week, Harry and Ron found themselves too busy to think about much else. In addition to homework from their teachers, the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, was this coming Saturday, and Hodge was making the Gryffindor practice hard, once a day. Harry and Ron didn’t complain, as they wanted to hold their position on the team, although they found it difficult to keep up with the other teammates. That’s probably why they don’t usually let first-years on the team, Ron found himself thinking.
The morning of the Quidditch match, Ron and Harry felt very queasy, and were unable to eat much at breakfast. Harry actually ate a plate of scrambled eggs, and then rushed to the bathroom to throw up. Ron lost his appetite after that...not that he’d had much of an appetite before that.
In the locker room, Hodge gave the team a pep-talk before the game. “All right, the Slytherin team isn’t very good this year. Their Keeper is pretty decent, but he’s about the only defense they’ve got, as their beaters are two boneheads, as usual. Their Seeker is all right, and their Chasers are mediocre, so we should have easy-going.”
“As long as we all pull our own weight, right?” one of the Chasers said, glancing at Ron and Harry as he said this.
“Worry about yourself, Johnson,” Hodge said coldly. “We are all capable of doing our own part.” That made the Chaser quiet.
Hodge then showed them the plays they’d be practicing (mostly for the other Chasers, but partly for everyone else as well), and before long, Madam Hooch walked in, informing them that the match was about to begin. Everyone walked onto the pitch, and Ron and Harry looked around, blinking in the sun, amazed: the huge pitch was packed with students, all cheering and dressed to support either Gryffindor or Slytherin. Ron heard Harry moan next to him, and Ron also felt a bit nervous as he mounted his Firebolt.
After the captains shook hands, everyone flew up into the air. Both teams formed a semicircle around the center of the pitch, and Ron got his first look at Slytherin’s Seeker...a burly boy, probably in his fifth or sixth year, Ron thought. Something about him seemed familiar (and the rest of the Slytherin team), but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
The commentator for the match, Wesley Jordan (Ron and Harry smirked at each other), boomed into the microphone, “Welcome to the first match of the season!” Everyone cheered wildly. “For Gryffindor, Captain Hodge, Townsend, Johnson, Smith, Edwards, Weasley, and Potter! For Slytherin, Captain Nott, Macnair, Larson, Lestrange, Lestrange, Avery, and Dolohov!”
Ron started...six of the seven players on the team were the children of Death Eaters! The only player that wasn’t was a Chaser named Larson, a third-year that looked rather timid. Ron presumed he was a new find. The other Seeker must be Dolohov...Ron nervously eyed the other boy, who looked as though he could snap Ron in half if he wanted.
Before he could think much on it, Madam Hooch stepped into the center of the ring of players. She threw the Quaffle into the air, and the game began.
“And it’s Hodge with the Quaffle!” Wesley said excitedly. “He passes to Johnson “ Townsend “ back to Johnson “ Hodge “ to Townsend, ooh, that’s gotta hurt...”
A well-placed Bludger had hit Townsend directly in the chest, knocking her off her broom. Johnson caught her from underneath, but the lost time caused them to lose possession of the Quaffle.
As Ron watched a Slytherin Chaser speed towards Harry at the other end of the pitch, Ron realized he was supposed to be watching for the Snitch. However, he couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of his eye as his cousin’s skills were tested for the first time. He listened to Wesley’s commentary as well as he scanned the pitch for any sign of something gold.
“...and it’s Nott with the Quaffle, he flips it back to Larson, wow! a behind-the-back pass to Macnair, he shoots...oh, a brilliant save by Weasley!”
Ron whooped as he watched Harry catch the Quaffle by the tips of his fingers, saving Gryffindor from a ten-point deficit. Harry had to admire, however, that the Slytherin playbook was much more advanced that their own. He hoped that Harry would be able to hold his own against them.
Suddenly, he was snapped out of his thoughts as he saw Dolohov dive sharply downward. Ron didn’t see the Snitch, but he sped after him, terrified that he would lose the game for them.
Seconds before they reached the grassy turf, Dolohov pulled up. Ron, realizing it was a trick, pulled his broom sharply upwards. If he’d had any other type of broom, he would have crashed, but Ron’s Firebolt was able to pull out of the dive in time, inches from the ground.
“A near-miss by Potter!” Wesley shouted. “Amazing display of the Wronski Feint by Dolohov! Tough luck, Slytherin! You can’t beat a Firebolt!”
Gritting his teeth, and heart pounding from that narrow escape from a visit to the Hospital Wing, Ron returned to hover above the pitch, continuing his search for the Snitch. After another fifteen minutes of play, the score was 40 to nothing, Gryffindor lead. Harry was putting on a show for the Gryffindor fans in the stands, saving goal after goal. Ron wasn’t sure how many plays the Slytherin Chasers had in their playbook, but surely they were running out. After one spectacular play, in which Nott faked a shot and let the Quaffle roll off his shoulder into the hands of Larson, Ron was sure he had seen more incredible plays than in any highlight reel of a professional Quidditch league.
Fortunately, the plays were wearing the Slytherin team out. As the captain, Nott, passed by Ron after one play, Ron saw that he was breathing hard from the effort, sweat dripping off his face like a fountain. Suddenly, Ron saw it: the Snitch, hovering above the left goal post at the Gryffindor end.
It was almost too easy...Dolohov was out of sight, and Ron was speeding towards the Snitch, which seemed not to have noticed it was in danger yet. When he was five seconds away from the Snitch, Ron spotted Dolohov, diving towards the Snitch. It looked as though they were going to collide. Instinct took over, and Ron flattened himself to the broom. He shot underneath Dolohov, who missed him by less than an inch, and grabbed the Snitch, pulling up as Dolohov, traveling too fast to pull up, crashed into the ground.
Everyone but the Slytherins cheered as Ron proudly flew a victory lap around the pitch, displaying the Snitch for all to see. When he landed, the other Gryffindors piled onto him, hugging him and patting him on the back. Ron was ecstatic. We won! he thought. He had never been so happy.
Unfortunately, the feeling wouldn’t last.
***
Back in the locker room, Ron and Harry met with Professor Potter, who was waiting with Ron’s mother. Ron ran up to hug his mum, who laughed.
“Great game, Ron,” Ginny Potter said. “You too, Harry. You’re both incredible.”
“I’ve never seen such moves by Chasers still in school!” Professor Potter said, referring to the Slytherins.
“What are you doing here?” Ron asked.
“I thought I’d come see my son in action,” his mother replied. “Why, do you not want me here?”
“No, not at all...just a bit surprised,” Ron said, grinning. Just then, the locker room door opened again, and McGonagall burst in.
“Harry,” she said sternly, looking at Professor Potter, “we have an emergency situation.”
“What is it?” Professor Potter asked, frowning. McGonagall walked over to him, whispered in his ear, and drew back. Professor Potter’s eyes grew wide.
“No,” he said quietly, and they both rushed out of the locker room. Confused, Ron, Harry, and Mrs. Potter returned to the pitch, where the other Quidditch players were listening to Professor Flitwick, who had taken the microphone from Wesley.
“...everyone is to stay in the pitch. No one leaves,” the short professor was saying. Everyone was muttering quietly, nervous. What is going on? Ron wondered. He wasn’t about to sit there and find out. When everyone was looking the other way, including Harry, he slipped back into the locker room and grabbed his Firebolt. He took the other exit flying out onto the grounds. He saw McGonagall and his father running into the forest, and he followed them, flying just above the tree level.
The two professors joined a few other professors, who were huddled over a figure that was lying on the ground. Ron realized with a jolt that the person was wearing a Death Eater mask, but this was no student...this was a real Death Eater. Carefully and quietly, Ron got off his Firebolt and sat on a tree branch, leaning down for a closer look, out of sight.
“I got him with a Stunner,” Professor Vector said matter-of-factly. “I don’t know how long it’ll last, though.” When he heard this, Professor Potter drew his own wand and bound him with ropes. Just then, the Death Eater awoke, struggling and squirming. Professor Potter removed his mask, and Ron saw a man, probably in his late thirties, growling and snarling at the professors.
“You won’t take me,” he spat.
“You’re already taken, Dolohov,” Professor Potter said sharply, and Ron realized this must be the father of the boy he’d been playing. He felt a twang of sympathy for the boy; first he lost a Quidditch match, then he would find out his father was captured.
“I will send a message to the Ministry,” McGonagall said, and she rushed back towards the castle. Meanwhile, Professor Potter cast a spell on Dolohov that caused him to fall into a deep sleep, and he levitated the Death Eater into the air, as the professors walked back out of the castle, Dolohov floating in front of them.
“How did you spot him, Pamona?” Professor Potter asked, and realized he was talking to Professor Sprout.
“I was at the match,” Sprout said, “and I saw a student leaving the pitch. A minute later, I saw them walk into the forest. I left to follow them, and saw the student talking to Dolohov, both wearing those masks. I didn’t see who the student was, because I had to go and get help, and didn’t stay long enough to get more information.” Ron felt a pang of disappointment at this.
But he’d heard enough. He sped back to the locker room, where he set his broom against a wall. He than ran out onto the pitch, intent on telling Harry everything he’d seen.
Author’s Note: This chapter was a bit longer than I’d planned, since I combined the Quidditch match with the capture of Dolohov, but I’m sure you’re not complaining...anyway, hope you liked it! Please review!