by
Catherine King
Harry woke up on May 3rd at 6 o’clock in the morning and felt anything but happy or restful. Today was the day of the Quidditch final. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. It was stressful, overwhelming, and exciting.
Later, on the Quidditch pitch, the Gryffindor team walked out amid loud cheers. Since no really liked Slytherin, the main color in the bleachers was red, but a fourth of the audience was green.
“Potter, Malfoy, shake hands.”
The two rivals shook hands, but made sour looks at each other all the while.
“On my whistle - one, two… TWEEEET!!!!!”
“And Gryffindor is up at an extreme start - in scoring area with Quaffle -wait, no, stolen by Slytherin - those green, unlucky little leprechauns, them -going through the field quickly - will they score? - thank heavens for small favors, Weasley saved! - Gryffindor gets Quaffle -”
Two hours later, the score was tied, the Seekers were seriously bored, and the Quaffle was really worn out. Meanwhile in the stands, the watchers were getting eager. No one even noticed when the Seekers all of a sudden flew over the edge of the stadium. They did notice, however when a loud screaming came from above the game.
“Just hand over the Snitch, Mr. Scar! It’s mine because I grabbed it first!”
“I don’t see your name on it, Sir-Cheat-a-Lot, and besides, I caught it first!”
“Yeah, right! You’re a ^%*&$, @%!$# kid who doesn’t belong in the school!”
“Well, you’re such a stuck-up, self-centered, spoiled little brat that you do not know that I CAUGHT THE SNITCH FIRST!!!”
“BOYS!” came Professor Gradison’s voice. “We must let Professor Dumbledore figure this one out.”
So Harry and Malfoy flew down to where Dumbledore was standing. He looked over their hands, both of which held the Snitch. Finally he said, “The matter is settled. Gryffindor has won the Quidditch cup.”
Later that night, the Gryffindor common room, Ron asked Harry and Hermione, “I wonder how Dumbledore knew how Harry had caught the Snitch?”
“Well,” said Harry, “Dumbledore told me that it was because Malfoy’s hand overlapped mine, indicating that I had touched it before him. That’s how he knew, the sly old fox!”
“I always said he is the master of the wits,” said Ron. “Of course, I never guessed he was that good.”
