Chapter 14: Quidditch and Cultural Anthropology

Harry watched the Quidditch stadium fill. The match start was still well away, but there already looked to be over a thousand wizards and witches in the stands, and they were very far from full, which meant a very sizable proportion of Magical Britain would be there. He was in the Gryffindor section, the Slytherin section was across the stadium, and smaller Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw section separated them.

Lupin and Shelby had come, and Professors Snape, Quirrell and McGonagall were sitting in the row behind him, despite the first two being Slytherin alumni and this being the Gryffindor section. Defending him, he was told, from well-wishers.

He hadn't disguised himself with metamorphmagery, as Tonks had advised him to not expose the ace up his sleeve so carelessly, but a knit wool cap hid his hair and scar, and he was wearing a maroon sweater, just like Ron.

To the casual eye, he was a Weasley.

He opened his book to its mark. Peter and the Unicorn, by J.C. Chester. It was a famous old wizarding children's book, and Harry quite liked it. The enemies included a lot of muggle-borns and half-bloods who were resentful of the natural order, true, but there were also purebloods whose pride had gotten the best of them, and there was a muggle-born on the side of good. She was in love with the hero, though it was pretty clearly hopeless. Harry was looking forward to borrowing the next one in the series from Ron, though Ron was encouraging him to read one of Chester's social and ethical commentaries instead.

According to Ron, J.C. Chester had argued for greater toleration and humane treatment of muggle-borns, but fast forward most of two centuries, and those very same arguments weighed on the side of seeing muggle-borns as fundamentally different and in need of careful management.

"It's not like I agree with her on everything," Ron had said, "but she makes a lot of good points."

Harry put the book away when Hermione and Percy returned from the tram with several newcomers in tow. Mrs. Weasley, a red-headed man who had to be Mr. Weasley, a red-headed girl who had to be the rumored Weasley sister, a young blonde girl, and two brown-haired adults in muggle clothing.

His stomach turned and he looked for a hiding place. Snape was right behind him. He could step over his seat and hide behind Snape.

No, no, what was he thinking? Hiding didn't achieve anything. Out of practice, that's what he was. Calm, polite, and demure.

Hermione said, "Harry, these are my parents."

He shook the mother's hand. "Hello Mrs. Granger, it's very nice to meet you."

"And it's very nice to meet you," said the woman.

He peaked up, saw her reassuring smile, and wondered why he was so nervous.

They introduced themselves to Lupin as Heather and John Granger. Mr. Granger gave Harry a quick hug, which Harry tried not to be too uncomfortable with, and started asking him questions about school-the classes, the teachers, the food, the building itself.

John Granger said, "Hermione mentioned moving staircases? Couldn't you fall off?"

"Sure," said Ron, "But I don't like it. It's fun from twenty feet, but the hundred-foot falls make me feel like my stomach's coming out my throat."

Mr. Granger said, "What was that about falling?"

Harry explained that jumping off the moving staircases was more recreational activity than safety hazard, and Mr. Weasley said, "It's a bit like muggle bungee jumping, only without the bungee, and you have to walk back to the top of the stairs to do it again."

Mrs. Weasley pulled Ron's little sister forward, red-haired, freckled, and downcast.

He held out his hand, said, "Hello, I'm Harry, and she squeezed Harry's hand very tight as she shook it, looked at her feet, tried to speak, failed, started to clear her throat, stopped, and said, "Hi," as if her voice was being squeezed out through a straw.

"You're Ginny?"

She turned bright red.

"This is Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley.

Harry said, "It's nice to meet you Ginny. You look almost old enough for Hogwarts."

Ginny nodded, still looking at her feet.

Mrs. Weasley said, "She'll start next year."

"I'm sure we'll see more of each other then," said Harry, and thought he was doing her a favor when he turned to the other girl.

She was small and had blonde hair and large silver eyes that protruded slightly. She was looking around, ignoring him, gawking at the crowd, the stadium, a pebble on the ground.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Harry Potter."

She nodded, glanced his way, shook his hand while barely looking at him, then snapped back around and stared.

She held onto his hand, not blinking, eyes moving slowly over his body in a way that made Harry feel horribly exposed and unclothed.

She said, "You're Harry Potter. I didn't think you'd be so interesting. Have you always been made of water?"
"Um." He looked at Mrs. Weasley, who was wearing a smile like uncomfortable shoes. He said, "I guess. About 90 percent water."

She nodded, and pointed right to his scar, even though his scar was hidden by his cap. "The splinter. It isn't water. Oh, I have to show you to daddy." She ran into the crowd.

Mrs. Weasley said, "Sorry Harry. She's a good girl, but she's always been a little odd."

"It's fine."

The girl appeared again, holding the hand of a man wearing a gray suit and a green fedora with a tag on the front that said Press in blinking letters. She said, "Daddy, look, it's Harry Potter, he's made of water, he's whatever shape he puts himself inside!"

Harry's blood ran cold.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both stood behind Harry, and before the man could even introduce himself, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said as one, "He's not giving you an interview, Xeno."

The man said, "I wouldn't ask. The Quibbler, unlike some papers I might name, has ethics enough to respect the bar on approaching students at Hogwarts. But tell me, Harry, what level of Mastery did you achieve while training with the Shaolin monks? Second? Third?"

Harry looked at Ron, hoping the wizard-raised kid had some idea of what the man was talking about, and Mrs. Weasley dragged the man away.

Ron said, "Your dad's worse than you are, Loony."

Harry sat the girl between himself and Hermione, wishing dearly that he had been learning legilimency, but asking would have to do.

"You seem like a very flexible person," said Luna to Harry. "Do you stretch?" She bent over, putting her head between her ankles to demonstrate.

"Not really," said Harry, impressed, then lowered his voice. "What makes you say I'm made of water?"

"You are, aren't you?" said Luna, looking confused.

Ron said, "Don't worry about Loony, Harry, she's an inch short of a full wand."

Luna stuck her tongue at him.

Harry spotted Hagrid coming toward them, and Hermione whispered, "I told my parents that the troll was only a little taller than the gamekeeper."

And it wouldn't have occurred to them that the gamekeeper was eleven feet tall. Harry removed his glasses, stared at Hagrid, and placed over his occulmency shields a single thought. Please don't stop and introduce yourself, sorry, please don't stop and introduce yourself, sorry.

Hagrid glanced at him, noticed Harry was still staring, made eye contact, and Harry felt a flash of legilimency. Hagrid nodded, and moved an aisle, walking all the way to the very top, which made sense. No one would want to sit behind Hagrid.

The teams flew out, warm-ups commenced, and the Grangers gaped.

"They'll die," said Mrs. Granger.

Mr. Weasley laughed. "You'll see."

"The one there must be a hundred feet up!"
Mr. Weasley snorted. "Closer to three hundred feet. But no worries. They're perfectly safe."

Harry was too enthralled by the aerial acrobatics of the warm-ups to pay attention to anything else. He'd easily been one of the best fliers in his flying class, despite never having flown before, but they hadn't done anything like that.

"Who'll win?" said Harry.

Ron said, "Smart money's on Slytherin, but I say it'll be an upset. We've got really talented quafflers, but they're young. The keeper's a fifth-year, but both beaters and two of the chasers are third-years. The other's a sixth-year. It's a young side, but they looked promising when they got a run the end of last year. Our seeker though... I'm sure Bulwerk will do his best. But we'll have to play for quaffle, and Slytherin's a lot older."

Lights flashed.

The grass field became an image, only loosely comparable to a muggle television. It was more like holograms from the Star Wars movie he'd seen, except the holograms were clear and lifelike and oddly stretchy. When he wanted to see a particular part, the image zoomed in.

He looked at the keeper, who he recognized as Oliver Wood, though he'd rarely spoken to the teenager. He looked at Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, both third years, and Oliver was small and fuzzy as they occupied his eyes.

It was like watching TV, except if whatever part of the TV he looked at became the center of the frame.

Mr. Granger said, "The focal point is wherever you look." He tapped Mr. Weasley's elbow. "One of those images can show different people different views at the same time?"

Mr. Weasley laughed. "Well spotted."

Harry looked at the Gryffindor beaters.

Harry said, "Fred and George are on the team?"

Ron winced, "And people call me oblivious. They've only been talking about the first match since the start of the year."

The twins were taking practice swings with large wooden bats while flipping around on their brooms. Both teams seekers were doing practice dives, Slytherin's seeker noticeably smoother, and five Gryffindor chasers were taking shots at goals defended by two keepers.

Harry pointed to one of the chasers. "Isn't that Katie?" The second-year he'd practiced with over Christmas.

Ron said, "She's a reserve this year. Youngest on the team."

Warm-ups kept them occupied until three referees rose. The reserves went to their benches, the seekers sat on their blocks, and the teams lined up. Three chasers, two beaters, and one keeper.

Mr. Weasley cast a spell over Harry and Co so that, no matter how loud the crowd became, they'd be able to hear each other just fine.

The crowd roared, then hushed, as Madam Hooch tossed the quaffle in the air while another referee released the bludgers.

Alicia Spinnet got to the quaffle an instant before Marcus Flint, back-tapped it to Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor claiming possession.

Angelina streaked for the goals, the shot-clock counting up, every second the odds of the quaffle going wild increasing, from near nil at 1 second to very high around 30 seconds.

The Gryffindors didn't let it get close to that.

They streaked through the air, passing quickly to each other. Angelina screened for Daniel, who got one of the smaller Slytherin chasers on him. He put his shoulder on the boy's chest, muscling over him, drawing the keeper over, then passed to Angelina, who took a shot the Slytherin keeper deflected.

Luckily for Gryffindor, he deflected it into one of the other goals.

10-0, Gryffindor.

Ron grinned. "You don't see that on the first possession every day. Good omen."

Slytherin caught, and were moving across the field themselves, the players pushing, and bumping shoulders, but not grabbing, and Marcus Flint took a shot on goal, which Wood blocked. Flint recovered his own shot, and faked as if he was going to take another, but passed to Adrian Pucey, who scored.

The Slytherins cheered. 10-10 on the score, and their team was up 2-1 on the shot count.

The Gryffindors took possession, racing toward the Slytherin goals, and it seemed to Harry that there was nothing chasers could do to actually stop opposing chasers. Harry knew the quaffle went mad if you were hit by a bludger, touched by the keeper, or touched by two opposing chasers simultaneously, but that didn't seem likely to happen much.

The quaffle was passed, and it curved away from a bludger, but Alicia Spinnet read the curve better than her Slytherin opponent, caught the pass, veered to the other side of the hoops, skimming the edge of the restricted zone. The keeper passed through the near goal, trying to maintain a good angle to defend the hoops, but Alicia was too fast and got a clear look at the far goal.

Marcus Flint batted it away just before the quaffle would've scored.

Madam Hooch called goaltending against the Slytherin captain, (only keepers were allowed to tend goal) and Gryffindor went up 20-10.

Harry said, "Why even bother blocking it then?"

Ron said, "Flint probably didn't want her to see it go through the hoop. Some places, goaltending gives the other team 15 points but denies them a shot counted on goal, which I think it's awful interesting, but at Hogwarts it's just 10 points, and you get called for delay of game after your third goaltend."

Harry said, "I take it Quidditch doesn't include a lot of defense?"

Ron gave him a dirty look. "There's a lot of scoring, but defense wins. Make the other team miss a little more often, and that adds up over the one-hundred and forty-three possessions in an average game."

As the game went on, Harry saw how the defense worked. Traps were rare, but by using the restricted zone intelligently, chasers and keepers working together made scoring hard on opposing chasers.

Marcus Flint shoulder checked Daniels into the restricted zone while Daniels was holding the quaffle, and the quaffle turned bright red, exploded out of Daniels' grasp, and zipped around randomly like a shy bludger or a very large snitch before being caught by the Slytherin keeper.

Being the keeper, he could hold the quaffle even aside the restricted zone.

The restricted zone extended about fifteen feet from the edge of the goals, forming a wedge shaped like a boomerang. It was possible to fly through the restricted area, and to pass the ball through it, but only the keeper could hold the quaffle inside the restricted area without it going mad, and a defending chaser touching the ball inside the restricted zone was an automatic goaltend.

A roar of the crowd drew Harry's attention to another part of the field. One of the Slytherin beaters had been struck directly by a bludger, and he was tumbling through the air, his broom still connected to his leg by an anklet and a cord, connected to his beater bat by a cord tied to his wrist. He plummeted toward the ground. Mrs. Granger screamed.

Twenty feet from impact, the fall slowed, slowed, stopped, the boy floating in the air several feet above the grass. He shook himself, tugged the broom to himself by its cord, clambered on, and was off, finding a bludger and hitting it at one of the Weasley twins.

"Bad discipline," said Ron, shaking his head. "For beaters, other beaters are targets of opportunity only."

Fred hit the bludger at Marcus Flint, forcing him to pass and peel away.

Mr. Granger says, "When the bludger hits, what happens?"

Mrs. Weasley said, "They sting something awful, and there's a stunning spell of course, and the quaffle goes mad if the player's carrying it."

Ron said, "The other team gets a brief play till you're back up."

Mr. Granger said, "But they don't get hurt?"

Mrs. Weasley said, "Again, it strings, but it's not like the bludgers can injure them."

Hermione, taking a better look at the Gryffindor beaters, said, "Fred and George are on the team?"

"Gah!" said Ron. "I've told you this a hundred times."

Marcus Flint scored again, and Ron said, "Daniel's getting manhandled."

Even Harry could tell, once Ron pointed it out, that Marcus Flint was out-muscling Daniels, and it was forcing the other chasers to support him (stunt, Ron said,) opening up the other Slytherin chasers for easy passes leading to easy shots on goal.

Only Oliver Wood's brilliance kept Gryffindor within 10.

Flint scored another goal, bringing the Slytherin lead up to 20, and perhaps more importantly, bringing the Slytherin shot count to 13.

When the number flashed, the Slytherin crowd screamed and the Slytherin seeker gate opened. Terrence Higgs burst out, Ron groaning in synchrony with the rest of the Gryffindor crowd. "Lone seeker," he said.

Gryffindor got the quaffle and called timeout. Higgs pulled up, joining the other Slytherins in a huddle, and Ron looked depressed. "At this rate we're going to have to put a beater on Higgs to give Bulwerk a gull's chance at the snitch, and then they'll kill us on quaffle."

Mrs. Granger said, "I see there's magic, but it's hard to believe this sport could possibly be safe. And moving staircases they talked about earlier... And all the stuff in the newspapers..." She spoke to Hermione. "You have been safe here, haven't you honey?"

"Of course," said Hermione.

Lupin leaned over Harry's shoulder and said, "Do you let your daughter climb trees?"

"It depends on the tree," said Mr. Granger.

"And you'd be more inclined to let her climb if there was soft grass rather than concrete beneath?"

Mr. Granger nodded.

"In the magical world, we're able to provide our children with very thick grass indeed. Often, we encourage our children to do what to you looks obscenely dangerous, but only because you do not see the layers of protective charms coddling them-though it's worth keeping in mind that we think of simple fractures as little more than bumps and bruises. They hardly take a moment to fix, after all.

"Muggles die in car accidents. You're so used to it you barely think of it. But whenever you hear of a wizard dying in a way you're unused to, it's an unknown, terrifying threat. But wizards feel much the same about muggles dying from car accidents."

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the game resumed.

Daniels was out, and Katie Bell was in, marking Marcus Flint.

Harry thought that was a very bad idea; if Daniels was being out-muscled by Marcus Flint, Katie would have no chance at all, but Ron said, "Let's see what speed and agility can do."

She turned the ball over with a bad pass, Marcus Flint shoved her out of the way with his shoulder, caught the Quaffle with space, and even Wood couldn't get to the resulting shot.

Katie Bell recovered the ball and charged back up the field with it.

Marcus Flint went directly at her, and Katie went directly at him.

Harry saw it in his head. Katie wouldn't dodge because the rules said she didn't have to, and Flint wouldn't dodge because he didn't care. The two would collide, it would be a foul on Flint, and little Katie would spend the rest of the match in the hospital wing.

Except at the moment of collision, Katie wasn't there. She corkscrewed so quickly, so adroitly, Harry lost track of her for an instant, and so did Marcus Flint. She sped past him, Terrence Higgs hurrying from his snitching to intercept.

She faked the pass, swerved toward the center goal, passed to Angelina Johnson, broke left, and Angelina immediately passed back. Katie took a shot on the central goal, except the ball never left her hand, threw the ball through the leftward goal, and as 10 points added to Gryffindor's score, and its shot counter moved from 11 to 12, Alicia Spinnet caught the ball and scored throughout the rightward goal, the ball barely brushing Bletchley's fingertips as it went through. The shot count went to 13.

The Gryffindor seeker gate opened, Bulwerk burst out and immediately bumped into Terence Higgs, the hunt for the snitch commenced.

As the quaffle fell, and Katie Bell who caught it, two Slytherin Chasers right on her, no way to escape, except somehow she spun out of the trap, buying just enough space to take a shot on goal from distance with the keeper in good position, except it wasn't a shot, it was a pass to Angelina Johnson, who tossed the Quaffle through the undefended center goal.

It was recovered by the keeper, who passed it toward Flint, but one of the twins hit a bludger toward the quaffle, which jerked to avoid it, bouncing off Flint's outstretched hands, and Katie Bell appeared from behind Flint, performing a flipping corkscrew to snatch the ball right in front of Flint's face while hanging upside down in the air.

In the same movement, she threw it through a goal. The shot had a curve that took it to Alicia Spinnet, whose own shot glanced off the side of the goal, and was recovered by Slytherin, which called its own time-out.

Forty quick points and Gryffindor was up 10.

Every side of the crowd but Slytherin was cheering, and even they were applauding the display. Wood said something to Katie, and she waved to the crowd, which got so loud Harry covered his ears.

"Holy shit," said Ron. "I think I'm in love."

Mrs. Weasley said, "Ronald, language."

Mr. Weasley said, "That's a second-year?"

Harry said, "I tossed the quaffle around with her over Christmas break." He'd seen she could fly well, but he hadn't had any idea she could do that.

Ron cast Harry the most intensely jealous look he'd ever seen.

Harry said, "Don't you practice with her in the Quidditch club?"

"A little. Not one on one. Stupid Boy-Who-Lived. Gets to do all the fun stuff."

Luna said, "The Slytherin team is completely boys," and began to hum.

Hermione opened a book on transfiguration to a mark a third the way through.

Harry sighed. Transfiguration was his favorite class if he excluded dagarary from Defense. Charms and Potions were lost causes, but he thought he had some small chance of edging Hermione at Transfiguration. But studying at the game?

Harry said, "Seriously?"

Hermione said, "It's a timeout."

Mrs. Granger reached over and shut the book.

"Mum!"

"Unless that's Quidditch rules, you're not reading it now. Socialize with your peers."

Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm, and tugged him forward, presenting him as proof as she said, "I socialize all the time now."

"Really?" Mrs. Granger said. "Harry, how do you and my daughter spend time together?"

"We study," said Harry.

"And?"

"We do homework, we practice spells." Hermione was making faces at him, but he didn't get what she wanted, so he continued. Everything he was saying ought to reassure a worried parent. "We do supplemental studying, and supplemental spells too. That's mostly it. Oh, and we play dagarary, but that's part of our course syllabus, actually."

Mrs. Granger nodded. "Anything truly extra-curricular?"
Hermione was turning pink.

Harry said, "We read the newspaper, and we talk about it. We play chess sometimes, since Hermione says it's good for developing reasoning skills, though neither of us hold a candle to Ron."

"So nothing that's simply fun?" said Mrs. Granger.

"Spell practice is fun," said Hermione.

Harry said, "Some people turn it into a game, sort of, but Hermione is always very serious about it."

"Harry!" said Hermione, and looking at her upset face, Harry finally got what she wanted.

Harry said, "We do have fun though. Like, didn't you play Exploding Snap with us one time?"

"One round," said Ron.

"And we played in the snow a few times." Though it mostly hadn't turned out well. "I know, we don't do it a lot, but Hermione really likes riding me!"

Mrs. Granger paled.

Hermione said, "I told you not to say it that way! Remember! What can it mean?"

"Oh. Yeah. I mean, I should say, sometimes, I give her a ride. I can turn into a lion, so when I'm a lion, she straddles me-"
"Don't say straddles," said Hermione.

"She sits on my back, and I run around. But we use spells, so it's safe."

Mrs. Granger nodded, holding back a smile. "Hermione, I'm glad you've made a friend who's so diligent, but it's important to have fun."

"Alright already," said Hermione, and put her book in Harry's bag. "Happy."

Mrs. Granger nodded, though she'd raised another eyebrow at where her daughter had put her book.

The match continued. Katie Bell was a ball of brilliance, chaos, and rookie mistakes, a mixture of turnovers and brilliant passes. But there were more of the latter than the former, and Gryffindor built a lead.

Marcus Flint hit her with a nasty foul, and Harry feared she'd leave the game, but she shrugged it off and scored on both of the penalties being fouled had earned her.

Flint grimaced, and one of the Weasley's got him with a bludger.

When he came back up, he gave a signal, and one of the beaters broke away.

Bulwerk, the Gryffindor seeker, did not seem interested in catching the snitch. Once it had become clear that the Gryffindors had the advantage at quaffling, he'd given himself over entirely to harassing Higgs, who could barely fly in a straight line the way he was being constantly shoulder checked, nevermind looking for the snitch.

That changed when a Slytherin beater came over.

He set a screen for Higgs, who got separation. Then the beater re-found the bludger he'd already hit into the area, and hit it at Bulwerk, who dodged toward Higgs, who twirled away as the beater set another screen.

So it went. Higgs was hardly free from harassment, but at least he had moments to look for the snitch.

The twins had been drawing even before against their older Slytherin counter-parts, but once it became two beaters to one, the bludgers seemed like additional Gryffindors, and the score tilted drastically toward Gryffindor.

Then tilted back in response to a sudden rash of turnovers from the three young Gryffindor chasers.

The lead re-grew. To seventy, then eighty.

Mr. Weasley said, "I've been wondering, the muggle telievee-"

"Telly," said Mrs. Granger.

"I always forget the muggle word is different. The tellys, they play so many commercials. I understand that the people who make the commercials pay the people who make the shows, but why do the muggles watch? If I had a friend who spent a third of his time with me telling me I'd look better if I bought these jeans his other friend wanted to sell me we wouldn't be friends long."

Mrs. Granger frowned and looked to her husband, who shrugged. She said, "I guess we just think it's worth it. Though my family doesn't watch much the telly much. Hermite's only allowed three hours a week, and she usually doesn't hit the limit. Mostly nature documentaries."

Hermione said to Harry, "That doesn't include movies. I watch movies. Like, The Princess Bride. The Court Jester. The one with the stupid lovestruck mermaid. Um. Yes. I watch lots of movies."

"I believe you," said Harry. He didn't, but it seemed important to her.

"I'm lots of fun," said Hermione. "I can get down and hang loose. Kick back and chillax. There's just been a lot to learn here."

"You're lots of fun," said Harry. "We have fun every day."

"Really?!" said Hermione.

"Just being with you is fun," said Harry, though it usually wasn't. Comfortable, more like.

Hermione turned red and smiled very wide while her parents gave Harry looks he didn't know how to read.

Terrence Higgs saw the snitch.

A desperate dive, Bulwerk at his heels, the Slytherin beater left in their wake, the pair too close for him to attempt anything even if the bludger were at his bat, the whole game reduced to a single pursuit, every eye on the crowd on the projections, the golden glint of the snitch not twenty feet ahead of the two seekers.

The snitch swerved, Bulwerk bumping Higgs enough to make his his follow clumsy, but still Higgs was catching up, eating the distance, hand extended, Bulwerk two feet too far back to interfere.

And the snitch disappeared.

The Slytherin crowd groaned or screamed while the Gryffindor crowd collectively sounded like God sighing in relief. Just as the Higgs had been a second from victory, the snitch had apparated to a random spot in the field, as it was wont to do once every 70 seconds or so.

Ron was pale and sweaty, screaming victory and trying to get his breath back.

Luna said, "Oh, look, Fred and George are on the team."

Ron pulled at his hair. "They were on the team last year too, Luna! Even if they were reserves."

Ron looked back to the game, griping about inattentive friends, and Luna giggled, then winked very badly at Harry.

Luna said, "It's good you're building a wall to keep the wrackspurts out, but you should get rid of the ones that are already there too."

Harry said, "Wrackspurts?"

"They make people confused." She pointed at Ron. "Ron's always had too many, but now he has even more, though fewer than when I saw him a few days ago." She leaned forward and fanned away the air next to Ron's right ear.

"Stop that," Ron said.

"He still has an abnormal amount," Luna said.

Ron said, "You're too old for this Loony."

Harry said, "How old are you?"

"My twelfth birthday shall pass on the eve of February 13th."

"Shouldn't you be in Hogwarts then?" He was skeptical of her being older than he was.

Ron rolled his eyes, though he never quite took his attention from the match. "Luna reckons your first birthday is when you're born, so you turn zero on your first birthday, one on your second birthday, two on your third, and eleven on your twelfth. Like how we count centuries."

Harry had taken her for eight or nine, but finding out she was nearly eleven, less than a year younger than him, didn't make him feel any less protective. The opposite, if anything.

Mr. Granger said, "What are wrackspurts?"

Mr. Weasley coughed. "Ah, well. Mythical creatures."

"Like the Loch Ness Monster?" said Mrs. Granger.

"Nessie? Before my time, but I hear that was a spot of bother. They moved her and her family to a lake in the Forbidden Forest. Quite deep in, but your daughter might go on a field trip to see them if she takes Care of Magical Creatures when she's older. No. The issue with wrackspurts and the like is that, no offense to Luna and her father, but most wizards regard them as not real."

Mr. Granger had some trouble taking that in.

"What about unicorns?" said Mrs. Granger.

"They're real." said Mr. Weasley.

"Sasquatch?"

"Imaginary."

"Chupacabra?"

"Real, but not what muggles think it is."

"Dwarves?"

"Extinct."

"Goblins."

"Bankers. Surprised you didn't know."

"Just checking. Hobgoblins?"

"Goblin troll hybrids. Very rare."

"Dragons?"

"Very real."

"Daleks?"

"What?"

Harry mostly tuned it out as he watched the game. Katie Bell was fronting Flint when he didn't have the quaffle, and bothering him from topside when he did, and while she couldn't really guard him, he seemed even less capable of guarding her. The Gryffindor lead was growing once more.

He was only half aware of Mr. Weasley questioning the Grangers on why blue jeans were almost always blue, and the Grangers complimenting Mr. Weasley on how much more he knew about muggles than the other wizards they'd met.

Mr. Weasley said, "I deal with muggles a lot in my work, you see. Back when I started, you were an expert if you knew helicopters were the spinney planes, but there are so many muggle-borns now it's hard to keep up."

Mrs. Granger said, "Sometimes, perusing The Daily Prophet, my husband and I have noticed a certain attitude..."

Mr. Weasley waved a hand. "More than an attitude, in certain editorials. Damn stupid. 'Taking our jobs?' Not half so many as they make. All that innovation's done wonders for the economy, not to mention the population growth. Though I do understand others' anxiety, of course."

Mrs. Granger said, "It fine though for muggle-borns, now isn't it?"

Mr. Weasley sighed. "I won't say there isn't prejudice, but it's not like it used to be. When I was starting, your average muggle-born wouldn't be caught dead having anything to do with muggles. Most got around eventually to claiming they weren't muggle-born at all. Now? 'Muggle-born and proud of it,' they chant. With signs and marches. It's very noisy." He scowled, but quickly added. "Not that they there's anything wrong with that."

Mr. Weasley continued, "You can't hold back the fastest growing demographic for long. I daresay by the time your daughter graduates, it'll hardly matter at all."

Ron said, "These days, purebloods are the ones who are really discriminated against. Muggle-borns don't have any school fees. Half-bloods get a big discount. But purebloods have to pay a small fortune." Ron fumed as he said it.

Ron had indicated from to time to time that his family was poor, and Harry had wondered how that could be true when magic should make food and housing dirt cheap.

Mrs. Weasley had been cheerily chatting at an increasingly irritated Severus Snape, but when Ron said that, her eyes narrowed. Her voice was sharp when she said, "Ronald Bilius Weasley."

Ron cowered, but said, "It's true though."

Mr. Weasley's surprise was evident, but his voice was mild. "It was the Egalitarians who proposed a bill to make Hogwarts free for all at the last Wizengamot session, and the pure-blood faction led by Lucius Malfoy that stopped it. Why do you think that is?"

Ron said, "Because Lucius Malfoy is a git and a Death Eater."

Luna reached across Hermione's lap to squeeze Ron's nose. "You're being right stupid, Ronniekins. If you would read The Quibbler like I said, you'd understand."

Mrs. Weasley said, "If Hogwarts was free for middle-class and poor families, who would pay for it? Old rich purebloods; they're the ones with the money. They don't want to. If they didn't have all the money, how would people know they were better?"

Ron said, "Blood-purism isn't really about superiority. That's a perversion. Properly, blood-purism is about preserving the magical population."

"They're perverse all right. Ron, there's not three blood-purists in Britain who want middle-class pureblood families to have more children."

Ron stared at his mother as if she were crazy.

"Don't give me that look, Ronald. The universe isn't all sunshine and daisies. You know the phrase, 'an heir and a spare?' The blood-purist families stop at two, because a squib would be a social disaster for them. If the other families had lots of children, the blood-purist would be outnumbered shortly enough. So they try to make having kids expensive."

Luna said, "The Malfoys didn't even dare to produce a single child. They transfigured Draco Malfoy from a magic ferret instead."

"They didn't," Mr. Weasley said quickly to the Grangers. Then, "Apologies for my son. He's going through a phase. And can we all just please watch the game?"

Ron frowned and the Gryffindors raised the margin to 110, Danny Bulwerk twice bumping the Slytherin chasers, the crowd growing raucous as Gryffindor approached Catbird-a lead of 150 or more.

Higgs resorted to split-timing. While Slytherin was on defense, he played defense with them, allowing the Slytherins to double without leaving a player open, but, being unable to touch the quaffle, he returned to searching for the snitch once Slytherin had possession.

Rather than split-timing as well, Bulwerk snitched, flying over the melee, eyes out for a flash of gold.

Just as Higgs closed on Angelina, Bulwerk dove. Harry looked where Bulwerk's broom pointed, and saw the golden pinprick of the golden snitch, moving rapidly in an arc near the Hufflepuff stands.

Higgs peeled off from defense, going after Bulwerk, but Bulwerk's lead was too large. One of the Slytherin beaters hit a bludger at Bulwerk, but Fred or George batted it at Marcus Finch.

As Bulwerk's fingers stretched toward the snitch, it apparated.

The Gryffindor crowd groaned and the Slytherin crowd cheered as both realized it was the mirror image of the previous occurrence, but the Slytherin team had been more distracted than the Gryffindors, who scored twice, stole, and scored again as Higgs raced to get back on defense, the margin growing to 130.

The Gryffindor crowd began to chant, "CAT-BIRD, CAT-BIRD, CAT-BIRD," and Harry wondered again whether Bulwerk would start split-timing too.

Bulwerk dove again, and Higgs abandoned his defense to chase-then as Bulwerk rose, Higgs realized it was a fake.

Bulwerk did it again and again, dives to nothing, dragging Higgs away from his attempts to help his quafflers, the differential bouncing between 120 and 140, and Harry began screaming for Bulwerk to stop messing around looking for the snitch and just get the differential up over 150. At any moment, Higgs might find the damn snitch hiding behind his ear.

The scoreboard flashed, a whistle sounded, and the players stopped.

The holograms showed it on replay.

No exciting dive, no last-minute chase, just a boy on a broom making a soft, graceful swoop, stretching out a hand, and rising with gold.

Bulwerk had the snitch.

The crowd roared, and Bulwerk pointed emphatically to his teammates, the ones who had run up the score till Higgs had been forced to stop hunting for the snitch. The Gryffindors took their bows and the crowd saved their loudest cheers for Oliver Wood and Katie Bell.

The referees were collecting the balls, putting a now-quiescent bludger in its place.

A single bludger.

The other bludger was still in the sky, streaking away from a frustrated referee, headed for the Gryffindor stands. Harry laughed.

The bludger was getting bigger. Closer, rather. Going quite fast.

Headed straight for him.

Harry put his arm up.

The bludger brushed his arm aside.

The bludger struck his skull.

Blood flew.

:::
This Luna is OP a bit, but she only really gets one chapter, so she deserves it.

Harry needs to make a male friend other than Ron. Between Hermione, Luna and Daphne this is turning into one of those "The MC is surrounded by romantic interests on all sides" stories. Which is fine, but not the feel I'm shooting for. Good thing he's 11.

Otoh, to my surprise, I'm thinking this Luna and this Ron could be quite the couple. Not that that'll happen in this story, but it's hard not to play Matchmaker: Destined Pairs Edition.

Monstrosity, by JLL, in Amazon Books for just 99 cents. It's good, I promise.

I never really liked the Quidditch parts of the books, and when I daydream a Harry Potter story, quidditch isn't included. But, while there may be some kinks to work out, I think this version of quidditch is a good game.

"In the catbird seat" is a moderately rare American idiom meaning "In a position of strong advantage." Though the etymology doesn't fit, I thought it appropriately random for wizarding Britain.

I thought more plot would occur in this chapter, but the match took more words than I expected.

I've started another fanfic, "We Ditched the Graveyard Early." Whereas Polymagus is freely AU, changing both the world and the characters, in Graveyard I feel obligated to keep everything consistent with the books aside from the point of divergence. Writing them simultaneously is interesting.