Harry stared absently straight ahead as he pulled on his gloves and adjusted them. The first Quidditch match of the year had finally come: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. He had to admit he was nervous, considering the temperament of everyone in the school. He was also anxious about how his team would perform. Their ability to work as a team had continued to be hit or miss in practice. Even now, no one was speaking.

He gave up fiddling with his gloves and walked over to grab his broom. They would be called to the pitch soon. He glanced around at his team.

“Everyone, huddle up,” he called out.

They all looked at him before moving to join him.

“It’s the first match and we have a lot to prove,” he said. “This is a brand new team. Today is when we prove we’re just as good and even better than any other team that’s come before us.”

He paused to gauge reaction. There wasn’t much of one and he sighed.

“You each know what to do. You made the team for a reason. You’re good, but today, you have to be great. To do that, you have to work together. Use our plays, make calls, and rely on each other. Whatever issues you have, you leave in here,” Harry said. He looked at each of them in turn. “Got it?”

“Got it, Captain,” they all said together. It wasn’t as enthusiastic as he would’ve liked, but he would take it.

“Good. Let’s go.”

He led the way to the doors to the pitch. They stood in twos with Harry alone in front. He took a deep breath as the doors opened with Seamus Finnigan announcing their team’s entrance. They hopped onto their brooms and zoomed into the air, circling the pitch. He flew to the center of the pitch to wait for Malfoy and his team.

It was only a few seconds later that he watched the Slytherins make their own rounds of the pitch before taking their positions, Malfoy in front of him.

They stared steadily into each other’s eyes, hardly listening to Madam Hooch review the rules and reinforce her desire for a clean game. Given how the year had been going so far, he was certain she shouldn’t get her hopes up.

“Captains, shake hands.”

Their eyes narrowing, Harry and Malfoy clasped hands. Harry frowned when a feeling of electricity travelled up his arm. He had little time to contemplate, however, as they released each other after only a second and flew off, replaced by Chasers.

He glanced away from Ginny and at Ron. He knew his friend had been extremely nervous for his first match. Harry gave a small smile and nod when their eyes met, receiving the same in return.

He returned his attention to Ginny in the center just as the whistle was blown and the Quaffle released. Ginny won the throw, but not without receiving an immediate shoulder check from Vaisey as she flew past. The Slytherin Chaser raced after her. Ginny ducked under a Bludger and was nearly in range to take a shot on Keeper Isaac Claimorn when Chaser Cassius Warrington came from seemingly nowhere and rushed Ginny, punching the Quaffle out from where it was tucked under her arm. Harry winced in sympathy as he saw the force of the punch wrench her arm and then it was pulled even harder when Warrington purposely hooked his arm into hers after the punch as he flew by.

Keeping an eye on Malfoy, Harry tracked the game, slowly moving around the outside. It didn’t take long for the match to turn vicious. Neither team was holding back, allowing the game to be an excuse to act on the anger and hatred they all felt. He wasn’t listening to Seamus’ commentary, more focused on watching what was happening and hoping no one was killed.

He grimaced as Demelza Robins was crushed between Warrington and Urquhart, clearly knocking the wind out of her and forcing her to drop the Quaffle. Vaisey swiped the falling Quaffle and made a beeline for Ron at the goalposts. Vaisey kicked out at Ginny as she came for him, forcing her to pull back. Katie Bell flew by to try and knock the Quaffle from Vaisey’s grip, but he threw an elbow, catching her in the face.

His stomach dropped as he watched his long-time teammate spiral to the ground in her daze, but blew out a relieved breath when she caught herself. He watched her swipe a hand across her face before rising back up to rejoin the game. He cringed again at the blood smeared across her face and the blood continuing to flow from her obviously broken nose.

He groaned as Slytherin got another goal despite Ron’s best efforts. He glanced at the score. Either they needed more goals or he had to catch the Snitch before Slytherin could get three more goals.

He swung his attention back to the match when he registered screams from the stands. He spotted the issue just in time to see Demelza flung back into both Urquhart and a Hufflepuff spectator stand by a Bludger from Gregory Goyle that slammed into her shoulder. While clearly in agony, she gained her bearings quickly and swung her other elbow back, hitting Urquhart in the throat so she could fly away before he could do anything more to her.

He was thrilled when Ginny got a shot past Claimorn and chuckled at her rude gesture that accompanied the goal.

He looked over at Malfoy, but nothing had changed. The Slytherin Seeker was doing much the same as him, watching the violent game and hoping to spot the Snitch soon.

He was startled by the Bludger suddenly coming his way and dodged effortlessly. However, he had to duck quickly when his own Beater, Ritchie Coote hit the Bludger back towards him, seeming to either not notice or care.

“Coote!” he yelled. “Focus! You want to hit the Slytherins, not me!”

Ritchie seemed to glare as he nodded and flew off. Harry shook his head, turning back around to face the match. During the brief distraction, Slytherin had gotten another goal, but Vaisey was spitting out blood from a Gryffindor punch.

He audibly gasped when Ritchie and Jimmy Peakes swung their bats together, connecting with either side of Vaisey’s head. The Slytherin’s eyes rolled and he went limp, plummeting to the ground unconscious. Ritchie joined the Slytherin when Crabbe and Goyle each aimed a Bludger at the Gryffindor Beaters. However, Goyle’s aim was off and both Bludgers hit Ritchie, one in the abdomen, and one grazed his head. Ritchie was thrown from his broom and hit the ground hard.

He had to end this. They wouldn’t have teams left at this rate. He narrowed his eyes and let his gaze dart around, searching intently for the Snitch.

Both Gryffindor and Slytherin got another goal while he searched. More assaults and injuries were also gained between the two teams.

Desperation filled him as he watched a Bludger slam into Ginny’s leg square on the knee, forcing it in a direction he knew should be impossible. In pained response, Ginny spun her broom up and around as Crabbe flew past her with a sadistic grin that was wiped off as her broom hit him in the face. They both spun out of control for a moment, but were back in quickly. Ginny flew directly under Warrington as she caught the Quaffle from Katie, making him spin to avoid her and allowing her to get another goal as the Quaffle hit Caimorn in the chest with such force he fell through the hoop.

Then he saw it. The Snitch was fluttering by the base of the Gryffindor goalposts. He took off instantly, pushing his Firebolt as fast as it could possible go. He was so close and was surprised at how easy of a catch it would be when he had an entire body slam into him from the side. The impact threw him off course and into one of the posts. He cried out when he felt something snap in his side. He wrapped an arm around his ribs and blinked rapidly, clearing the tears and blurring pain from his eyes. He immediately spotted Malfoy chasing the Snitch and took off, dodging the other players that still seemed intent on causing as much harm as they could to each other. He gritted his teeth as his broken ribs continued to shift painfully. He did his best to ignore it as he caught up with Malfoy and matched the Slytherin’s speed.

They soared around the pitch, weaving through players and goalposts as they shoved each other with shoulders and knees. At one point, they both reached out as they were nearly in range of catching the Snitch. They swiped and gouged at each other’s hands, both drawing blood from fingernails. Malfoy apparently determined scratching wasn’t enough so he grabbed a couple of Harry’s fingers and yanked hard to the side, all before Harry had a chance to react. He screamed as his fingers broke and, without even thinking, he kicked out hard. He made contact with the blonde’s knee and Malfoy let out his own pained cry, and he was forced off course, crashing into a Gryffindor stand.

Harry looked back at the Snitch and reached out with the hand that had been holding his ribs. Squeezing his broom with his thighs to stay on, he pushed harder and leaned forward as far as he dared. When he felt the hummingbird-like wings graze his fingers, he closed them, bringing the Snitch into his palm.

The whistle rang out and he let out a relieved sigh, glad it was over. He was moving to get a bit closer to the ground to dismount when he was knocked from his broom by the Quaffle hitting him hard directly in the center of his back.

He groaned and gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs and he hit the ground.

“You bastard! The whistle had gone! That was intentional!”

He looked up at Ron’s angry voice and his eyes widened at the sight of the still standing, conscious players getting in each other’s faces. He pushed himself up as quick as he could and stumbled over to try and stop what he knew was about to happen.

“Oh yeah?” Warrington sneered. “And what’re you gonna do about it, Mudblood lover?”

Ron’s eyes flashed and, despite having clear damage to his hand, clenched it into a fist and swung. There seemed to be a second where everyone looked at Ron and Warrington and determined what to do. After that second, both teams devolved into bringing the violence from the match to the ground.

It didn’t matter that they had shattered bones, were covered in blood, had blurred vision from concussions and pain, or that they could barely stand for various reasons. They had to continue what the match had started.

He was about to try and separate Ron and Warrington when his head snapped to the side from a blow to his cheek. He turned to Malfoy with a glare and threw his own punch.

He had no idea how long they were all fighting. He was about to land a kick to Malfoy’s already injured, probably broken knee when magic forced all of them apart. Every player was gently, but firmly thrown in a different direction and left on the ground.

“Enough!” Dumbledore’s voice roared.

Aching all over, Harry wrapped his arm around his torso again and pushed himself onto his other elbow so he could see the headmaster. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick had left the stands and were walking across the pitch to the teams with Madam Hooch. He briefly wondered why Hooch hadn’t made any calls to stop the violence during the match. The thought left quickly as he looked around at all the other players, most of who were also sitting up to some degree to see the professors.

“I have never been so appalled by the conduct of students at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said angrily. “What is meant to be a friendly competition was turned into a battlefield of hate today, and I have never been so disappointed.”

Dumbledore’s gazed roamed over the players. When they met Harry’s, he frowned. The headmaster’s face was hard and serious, but there was something in the blue eyes that didn’t match the face or tone.

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, please see your students to the Hospital Wing. Professor Flitwick, please assist with bringing the unconscious players there,” Dumbledore said. “Each and every one of you has earned detention for your deplorable behaviour. You will receive an owl with details at a later date. On your way now.”

Harry watched the headmaster sweep back to the castle before pushing himself to his feet with a groan. He waited where he was for the rest of his team to join him. In various stages of what could be considered ‘able-bodied’, the Gryffindors limped, shuffled, and stumbled their way to the Hospital Wing with McGonagall in the lead. Once there, they all collapsed into beds without any prompting from Madam Pomfrey. The Slytherins followed close behind, not in any better condition. Once they were in beds, Flitwick entered with floating stretchers carrying the still unconscious Vaisey and Ritchie.

No one spoke except Pomfrey. A student only spoke if asked a question. Snape and McGonagall stood in the center of the Wing but on the side with their students, arms crossed and glaring. As she examined students, injuries were muttered aloud with frustration and disappointment.

Concussions…broken nose…dislocated shoulder…broken collarbone…fractured leg…broken fingers…sprained wrist…broken ribs…punctured lung…severe lacerations…shattered knee…burst blood vessels…torn muscles and ligaments…broken teeth…internal bleeding…

“You would think these children had fought a war, not played a game of Quidditch!” Pomfrey exclaimed, clicking her tongue and shaking her head in disapproval. She got to work, though, administering all types of medical care to treat and heal her more than a dozen patients.

Harry was one of the last to receive treatment. His broken fingers and ribs were easily healed though he was still bandaged to help the freshly healed bones remain stable. He had a concussion, a sprained ankle, severe bruising, and numerous cuts. Compared to most of the others, he’d escaped relatively unscathed.

“Get comfortable, all of you,” Pomfrey said. “Not a single one of you is leaving until tomorrow at the earliest. Many of you will be here for a few days.”

Harry let his head fall back against the pillow with a sigh, both annoyed and exhausted. He couldn’t even feel good about winning the match because of how aggressive they had all been. Pomfrey was right. It hadn’t been like they were just playing Quidditch; something else had come out.

Harry opened his eyes with a frown. He was certain he had just had the dream about the woman again. Like last time, he couldn’t remember anything, could hardly remember her, but he was sure she was there again. She left a feeling of familiarity behind.

As he stared through the dark up at the high ceiling, he couldn’t help but contemplate all he had been experiencing in his interactions with various people. The amplified anger and hate they all seemed to be feeling, the magical explosion in Defense, the electrical jolt when he and Malfoy shook hands, the similar jolt when he met Snape’s eyes, the chill when he met Dumbledore’s…

It was like there was a barrier hiding things from him, but was crumbling, letting these things slip through the cracks.

All of a sudden, there was a hand over his mouth and a wand to his throat. His eyes widened but then narrowed as they met well-known grey ones swirling with fury. A mild pain ran through his head and he was suddenly seeing a younger version of himself and Malfoy laughing together. As quick as it came, the image was gone.

“If you ever touch me again or whatever you did in Defense, I will kill you,” Malfoy said in a deadly whisper. With a snarl, Malfoy slipped away back to his bed, leaving Harry with a pounding heart and extreme confusion.