"Remember Harry, keep your eyes searching for the Snitch at all times." Oliver warned, his trademark intensity plastered all over his face. "It's tempting to look out for the bludgers – don't. Trust the Weasleys. They may be a pair of hooligans, but they know what they're about."

"Yeah, we'll protect you, promise!" One of the twins said insincerely as they scooped up a few rashers of bacon.

Harry just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Already he could feel the inevitable knots in his stomach squirming. It was strange how he never got used to them. He'd had them before every game of Quidditch he'd ever played, but they never got any easier to handle.

He prodded unenthusiastically at a rasher of bacon, nudging it with his fork.

"Cheer up Harry, you'll do fine." Katie Bell reassured him from across the table. "We can run rings around the Slytherin Chasers anyway."

Now that was a blatant lie. Slytherin's 1991/92 team had three very good chasers. Marcus Flint would actually be chosen to be part of the Wimbourne Wasps youth squad after he graduated. Pucey and Montague were also both very effective, not to mention experienced. Whilst the Gryffindor chasers would go on to be a legendary trio in their later years, for now they were a relatively unknown outfit. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet were debuting, whilst Johnson had been part of the whitewashed 90/91 Gryffindor squad.

Harry sighed. It was a tough assignment, that was for sure. Last time, this match had been a Slytherin landslide. Cormac McLaggen had been drafted in as seeker, and stood no chance against the infinitely more experienced and versatile Higgs. The Gryffindor chasers had put up a worthy fight, but had been outplayed by the wilier Slytherins. It stood to reason that unless Harry stepped in, the same thing would happen again.

"Harry, you have to eat." A concerned Hermione said from further down the table.

Harry just shook his head, not bothering to answer. He wasn't in the mood to talk. He wanted to be out on the field already, the wind in his hair and his broom in his hands.

"She's right Harry, you might not want to eat now, but you'll regret it when your stomach growls a hundred feet in the air." Wood said, his face stern. "I want you at your best Harry. I know this is your first game, but we really have to win this one. I won't be able to Flint in the eye if we don't." He added softly, talking more to himself than anybody else.

Angelina reached over and smacked him on the arm. "Ollie, don't put so much pressure on him!" She turned to Harry. "Ignore him. Try your best Harry, but don't do anything too dangerous!"

"Yeah!" Alicia chimed in. "We don't want to see you flat on the ground because you tried to pull a Wronski Feint, alright?"

Harry smiled shyly and looked down, unsure how to respond. "em..yeah, sure. Thanks."

Looking for something to distract himself, he once again stabbed at his bacon, skewering it and holding it up in front of him. He examined it, his lip curling in distaste. Whilst on another day the fatty meat would be heavenly, today it was nothing short of nauseating. Resignedly, he put it back down on his plate.

"Alright, I'm going down to the pitch. I'll see you guys down there." He murmured. With that, he stood, ignoring the cries of protest from the table. Believe it or not, he wasn't just looking for an exit. He had his rituals. As he walked down the hall, he could feel the eyes of the various Houses, all staring at his back. The great Harry Potter, taking up the legacy of his father and becoming the youngest seeker in a hundred years. He snorted dismissively, trying to ignore the irrational glow of pride swelling in him.

He walked through the Entrance Hall out into the crisp winter air, the chill making him hunker down in his scarlet scarf. He began trudging his way down the field, wishing he still had his lucky socks. Or his lucky broom. Or his lucky anything, really. Still, at least he was able to complete some of his rituals. He took out the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages that Hermione had loaned him from his coat, and began flipping through the pages. After a few seconds, he reached the page he'd been searching for; The Game at Queerditch Marsh. He scanned the page, remembering more than reading Gertie Keddle's words (and complaints). Satisfied, he closed it again, before tucking it back into his pocket. He was ready to play.

"He's going to be okay, isn't he?" Neville asked in concern. High up in the stands, he, Ron and Hermione (along with a few dozen other students) were all waiting with bated breath for the teams to make their way out onto the pitch. Behind them, the banner the first years had made flapped triumphantly in the wind, the golden lion pacing back and forth thanks to a handy charm Flitwick had performed on it for them. The words Potter For President were emblazoned in gold above the animate lion, the words occasionally shining as they caught the rays of the midmorning sun.

"He'll be fine, Neville. It'll take more than a few snakes to hurt Harry." Ron reassured him with a confidence he did not entirely feel.

"It's not the Slytherins I'm worried about." Murmured Neville gloomily as he looked at the precipitous drop to the ground fifty feet below.

"I still think it should have said 'Harry's our Hero'." Said a distracted Hermione, clearly still a little bitter the first years had ruled against her idea.

Neville and Ron ignored her complaint, instead choosing to look out onto the pitch down below.

"They're coming out!" Somebody in the back rows yelled excitedly. The crowd roared its approval as the small figures marched out onto the field, clad in their house colours. Ron, Neville and Hermione roared with them, yelling out encouragement as they spied the unruly black hair of a certain Harry Potter.

Fifty feet below, the players on the field couldn't hear any individual voices, only the raucous cheers of the supporters from the four houses, all of whom had turned out for the inaugural match of the season. Harry could almost feel the vibration in his chest as a thousand people yelled and shouted. Apparently, quite a few parents and spectators had also come to the school, probably to see the great Harry Potter either make a fool of himself or live up to his father's legacy. Even as he thought of it, his heart slipped into a higher gear, pounding in his chest. Experimentally, he bounced on his toes a few times, just to make sure his legs hadn't inexplicably stopped working.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you." He heard Hooch say.

He scoffed at the idea. Quidditch had always been infamously foul-ridden, and Slytherins were worse than most in that regard. The massive expectations placed on the team's players meant that win-at-all-costs had practically become the mantra of the house for nigh on thirty years.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Cleansweep, feeling the comfortingly smooth finish on his fingertips. As if a switch had been flicked, he felts his nerves just fall away.

A sharp whistle blast signalled the start of play, and Harry kicked hard off the ground into the air. Shadowing his rise, he could see Terence Higgs staring at him, his eyes in narrow slits.

That meant he was probably insecure about being pitted against the Boy-Who-Lived. Good. With any luck, he'd be extra impatient, and probably more likely to foul as well. Harry could work with that.

The Quaffle throw was snaffled by Angelina, who immediately began a drive towards the Slytherin goal. Caught off guard, the Slytherin chasers quickly fell into a defensive formation, Pucey harassing her whilst his fellows worked to cut off passing lanes. They weren't quick enough. Angelina threw a perfect pass to Alicia, who caught it easily. Confronted by Flint, she tried to pull a one-two, but her throw was poor, and the Quaffle was intercepted by the Slytherin Captain.

Harry shook his head at the poor move, before resuming his search for the snitch. It was always a tiring job, looking for the small golden ball. It was nearly impossible to see, and whilst the Hogwarts version was enchanted to make it a little easier (to prevent the day long games common in the professional leagues) it was still as much a game of fortune as it was a game of skill.

In the distance, Harry could hear Lee Jordan commentating. "-That's a nice save by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and Gryffindor take the Quaffle. That's Katie Bell there, nice dive around Flint, off up the ground and -OUCH-" Harry winced as a bludger ricocheted off the top of Bell's head, forcing her to drop the Quaffle.

"DO YOUR BLOODY JOBS, BEATERS!" Harry roared at the twins, the sound ripped away by the wind as soon as it left his lips.

The Weasleys didn't need any encouragement. Just as Pucey sped off towards the goal, he was hit in the chest by a bludger fired off at him by one of the redheads. He too dropped the Quaffle, which was promptly caught after a second's fall by Johnson. Harry watched her for a few seconds as she made progress up the pitch, narrowly dodging a tackle by Flint. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a figure in green with a bat in his hand diving for a bludger. Taking a deep breath, Harry dived after him. His broom's superior acceleration proved key as he swept in ahead of the unfortunate Slytherin, forcing the boy to pull out of his run at the bludger. Since seekers were a protected species in most games due to the outrageous amount of fouls propagated against them, any infringements on the seeker tended to be punished harshly.

Harry didn't hear the curse the dark haired lad yelled at him but from his body language (not to mention the bat being threateningly brandished at him) the meaning was clear. Of course, Harry didn't care. He looked on in satisfaction as Johnson, who had been given a clear run thanks to her Seeker's intervention, slipped the Quaffle past Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper. The crowd went wild as the Gryffindor team celebrated first blood of the season.

"Nice move Harry!" A Weasley twin shouted as the Quaffle was retrieved. "But be careful! Sometimes they'll think taking you out is worth the penalty." The other one added.

Looking at the venomous glare the Slytherin beaters were sending him, Harry didn't doubt that would be the case next time.

The game quickly resumed, Slytherin in possession. Harry, knowing he was likely to be targeted in the Slytherin drive, withdrew from the danger zone. Tilting his broom's nose up slightly, he daintily floated up another fifty feet, giving him a wonderful bird's eye view of Pucey scoring, courtesy of a lovely setup by Flint. Even this high, he could still faintly hear the cheers of the Slytherin contingent. Blocking out the sound, he resumed his scan for the Snitch by keeping his eyes unfocused, allowing his peripheral vision to better register any flashes of light…there! Harry immediately began a severe dive, his eyes focused on the flash of light near a Weasley Twin's…oh.

Harry pulled out of his dive, ignoring the disappointed groans of the crowd. Stupid Weasley's. Why bring a wristwatch on the pitch? Shaking his head at their idiocy, he almost missed the flash of gold that zipped past Katie Bell's ear. Almost.

Harry looked around him, searching for his opposite number.

Oh no.

Higgs was hovering directly over the Gryffindor Chaser, his brow furrowed as he inspected the air. Clearly, he hadn't noticed the snitch hovering underneath him yet.

Yet.

Harry looked frantically back to Bell for a moment. Thankfully, the Snitch hadn't moved too far. Unfortunately, Higgs didn't look like he was moving any time soon either.

Harry played it casual, slowly tilting his broom down to accelerate. He began gliding to the place where the Snitch fluttered happily, his heart racing in his chest. His mind didn't register the sound of another Slytherin goal, putting them ten ahead. His eyes still locked on the Snitch, he could just make out Higgs looking at him suspiciously from his peripheral vision. Harry got closer, doing his best to look like he was staring at something in the middle distance. Higgs, confused, began looking around, above him, to his right, to his left – Suddenly Higgs stiffened, just as Harry's broom began to break into a sprint.

They both charged towards the enchanted device, Higgs slapping his broom like a demented jockey whilst Harry flattened himself against his broom, trying to increase his aerodynamicsm. The snitch, clearly sensing its peril, began backpedalling from its predators, clearly seeking escape. Harry reached his hand out for it. It was only a few feet away now, it was his to-

WHAM! Harry felt, rather than saw, a green blob enter his field of vision, and suddenly he found himself clinging onto his broom for dear life, the world, inexplicably, upside down. Harry frowned at this strange turn of events. He was quite sure the world was, usually at least, the right side up.

"Anymore of that and I'll have your entire team forfeit, do you understand?" Somebody was screaming below (or was it above?) him.

"It was an accident, honest! Terence just got-"

"Three penalty shots to Gryffindor!"

"But it-"

"Do you want me to make it four?"

A woman's face swam into Harry's view. It too was upside down.

"Merlin! Harry, are you alright?" Katie asked, concern in her voice.

Suddenly, the world began to realign as strong hands clasped his shoulders and pulled him back to normality.

Harry blinked as the world returned to the way it should be.

"That was low, even for them." Fred grumbled from behind him, hands still on Harry's shoulders.

Alicia Spinnet flew over, concern all over her face. "Harry! Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?" She said, holding up two fingers by her head.

Harry cursed. "I'm fine. Damnit, I almost had it!" He turned his head to glare at the congregated Slytherin squad, who were no doubt planning some other sleazy tactic.

"Harry!" Spinnet snapped, her left hand clicking to get his attention. "Fingers!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Two. Really, I'm fine."

"Bastards. It shouldn't be allowed." George said darkly, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his bat.

"Yeah, there should be a rule against it." Bell rejoined sarcastically. "Still, at least we'll get some points out of it."

The crowd cheered as Angelina nailed the first of her three penalties.

A minute later, and the game was back on, Gryffindor in possession. Harry just soared through the air, enjoying the feeling of the wind rushing past him. Moments like this were so rare in his life. Simple moments, where life was good. No need to think, no need to analyse or consider, no time for second guessing. In the air, on his broom, things were clear. Fly. Scan. Dodge. A little pressure from his right knee and he was flying off to his left again, ready to follow the strategy. He ignored the boos of the crowd as Slytherin scored. The score wasn't important. All the score bought in school-level games was time. Time for the seeker to win the game. Time for him to win the game. Fly. Scan. Fake a dive for the snitch. Fly again.

Slytherin scored.

Duck. Roll. Keep flying. That was the name of the game. Keep. Flying.

Another Slytherin goal. His time was getting shorter.

Fly. Scan. He looked up at where his opposite number was doing precisely the same thing, on the opposite side (widthways) from him. Harry cocked his head for a moment, the gears turning in his head. At this point, he'd covered quite a bit of the pitch. Assuming Higg's eyes could be trusted, chances were the snitch was up one end of the pitch. He looked to his left, where the Gryffindor goal was coming under relentless pressure from the Slytherin Chasers. Then he looked to his right, where the Slytherin Keeper, Bletchley, was doing bored loop-de-loops as she waited for some action to come her way.

He looked straight ahead, calmly taking stock of the situation as Higgs began looking at the ends of the ground, clearly coming to the same conclusion Harry had. Then, abruptly, the Slytherin seeker dashed off towards the empty Slytherin side of the field. Harry shook his head. It would make more sense, at first glance, that the snitch would be in the empty side of the field. After all, surely if it was down the crowded end one of the players would have spotted it by now?

It was funny that the exact opposite was probably true. The bored Bletchley would doubtless have spent the free minutes she'd had down her end searching for the snitch as she stood in goal, with nothing better to do. If she'd seen it, she'd have given the 'snitch spotted' signal to her seeker, and that would have been that. But on the other side of the field, filled with a brutal aerial battle between the two teams, nobody had time to search for the snitch, and there were plenty of bodies to obscure it from the player's view. Therefore…

Harry swung to his left, where Slytherin were getting very close to extending their lead to twenty points. The chasers were engaged in a fierce melee, with possession switch sides every few seconds. Worse, the bludgers were flying everywhere thanks to the efforts of the beaters, and as Harry closed he could see that not all of the brooms were in their original pristine shape. Katie Bell's broom in particular had lost its rounded top, and seemed to veer off to the left as the Gryffindor tried to fly straight.

Harry ducked under a nasty fly-by courtesy of Pucey, and then performed a Sloth-Grip Roll (where the user hangs upside down off their broom) to dodge a nastily aimed bludger. Recovering, he charged into the melee, zooming past Flint and Angelina's battle over the Quaffle. Feeling strangely calm, his eyes searched the melee, looking for anything that might – there!

On instinct, Harry dove through the heart of the battle, where Flint was trying to get the Quaffle past Wood. Like a bullet, he passed the Slytherin players, enjoying the look on their blurred but clearly confused faces. The snitch, sensing its peril, began flying in a straight line away from Harry, but its speed gave it little hope against the Cleansweep. Harry reached out his arm, all his willpower bent on bringing the little winged sphere into his embrace. He felt the wings beat against his fingertips, then he felt the comforting weight of the sphere land gently in his palm. Suddenly, gloriously, the game was over. He held his hand aloft as the crowd went wild for him. The Slytherin stands, of course, were silent.

The whistle peeped, and the audibly enhanced voice of Madame Hooch rang out across the stadium. "Harry Potter has caught the snitch!" She yelled, not bothering to hide the excitement in her voice. "Gryffindor win, One-hundred-and-ninety to fifty!"

Harry smiled. Today had been a good day.

Sorry guys, I know this is a bit of a nothing chapter in terms of actual plot development. But, everybody has to write a gratuitous quidditch chapter, and now I understand why JK Rowling said they were her least favourite parts to write. I promise, next chapter I'll be starting the second arc of this fic, and I'm very excited to do so. The rest of Harry's year isn't going to be easy either.