Chapter 67. Harry's Astonishing Move
On the grass outside the castle, two posts stood on either side, each with a round iron hoop at the top.
Fred gripped his broomstick with one hand to steer and tucked an oval ball under his other arm, then charged hard towards the opposite goal.
They were playing a small game of Quidditch, with no Golden Snitch and no Bludgers.
Everyone was a Chaser, and you scored simply by throwing the ball through that blasted goal.
Fred circled once in mid-air, keenly watching where Harry and the others were.
Suddenly, he pressed his broomstick down hard and dived at great speed.
"Stop him!" Ron shouted to Harry and Neville from a spot just in front of the goal.
Harry and Neville chased Fred together, trying to box him in and snatch the ball from his hands.
But Fred seemed to have predicted exactly that.
After flying a short distance, he pulled off a sharp, skilful brake.
Harry and Neville shot straight past Fred before they could react and nearly crashed into each other.
"Duncan, catch!" Fred stretched the hand holding the ball behind him and hurled it forward with force.
The ball spun over the grass and flew straight to the far end.
Duncan had been waiting there.
He lifted a hand and caught it cleanly.
He was so familiar with Fred and George that with the slightest shift he could tell what the other was thinking, and their teamwork was seamless.
"Damn!" Ron looked at George and Duncan closing in from two directions and froze, not knowing whom to guard.
Not until Duncan, ball in hand, was about to enter shooting range did Ron grit his teeth, finally make up his mind, and fly straight at him.
Duncan held the ball one-handed and feinted a pass to George.
Ron took the bait and swung his broomstick after the fake.
By the time he realised, it was too late.
Facing an unguarded goal, Duncan gave a light toss, and the ball went in.
"That's a goal already, absolutely no pressure!" With an easy one-goal lead, Duncan put on a smug face and laughed.
"Again, this time it was just our misjudgement!" Ron said stiffly, then dived to pick up the ball.
Now it was their turn to attack.
Ron called Harry and Neville over and whispered a few words, quietly arranging a tactic.
"Ron, do you need to be that serious?" Fred hovered on his broomstick and said with a grin.
"Are you ready?" Ron ignored Fred and called out loudly.
When Duncan, Fred, and George raised their hands, Ron handed the ball to Harry and quickly flew to the other side of the pitch.
"What do you think they'll do?" George asked Duncan, ambling along without hurrying to give chase.
Duncan glanced over Harry's formation and smiled.
"I think the final point of attack is still going to be Ron."
"Given what we know about Ron," Fred said, "I agree—Ron will want to finish it himself."
"Then shall we pincer him later?" Duncan asked.
"Let's act like we're fooled and play along," George said, then led the way, riding his broomstick towards Harry.
Duncan shrugged and flew left to cover Neville coming in from that side, leaving only Fred where he was.
"Harry, Neville!" Ron felt his plan was working, and he could not suppress the excitement in his voice.
Neville swung sharply to the right and flew towards open space, and Harry threw the ball with force.
Harry's aim was a little off, but Neville stretched as far as he could and still gathered the flying ball into his arms.
"Nice!" Ron couldn't help clenching his fist and cheering.
With Neville racing off with the ball, he had already dragged the defence out of position and created enough space.
As soon as Neville reached their agreed spot, Ron accelerated to the flank to slip past Fred, who was marking him.
What Ron did not expect was that the moment he raised a hand to call for the ball, Duncan and George dropped back at once and lunged at him.
"How did they know?"
"Neville could clearly drive straight in from there."
"Are they just not going to defend?"
Ron's mind went blank.
He had two choices now: trust Neville, or trust himself.
If he chose Neville, Neville was playing Quidditch for the first time and had no experience.
If he chose himself, he might be boxed in the moment he received the pass.
Both were risky.
Ron thought for a moment and chose to believe in himself.
He raised his hand and shouted for the ball.
Neville, with almost no hesitation, passed to him.
Just as Ron stretched hard to take the ball, Duncan flashed past him and left behind a heart-piercing line: "Nice tactic, but sorry—the ball's mine!"
Ron swung a fist in futile anger and could only watch as Duncan and the others made two quick passes and slipped the ball into the goal with ease.
"Can you lot even play?" George said with a laugh as he flew down to fetch the ball. "Want us to swap a player with you?"
"Cut the rubbish—no, we'll just spot you two players!" Ron shouted back, then huddled again with Harry and Neville.
Only the scenes Ron imagined never materialised.
Most of the attacking patterns he designed were seen through by Duncan and the others.
Even on the rare one or two that were not, Fred and George could make up for it with sheer ability and snuff out their attack.
After all sorts of attempts and ages of flying hard, they still had not scored a single goal, while Duncan's side grabbed their chances and netted more than a dozen.
Ron's face fell, and his mind turned to mush.
He had no idea what to do anymore.
The gap in strength was too big to make a game of it.
"Still not swapping?" George said, cradling the ball after yet another easy score.
"No!" Harry shot back, then said to Neville and Ron, "How about we don't use a set tactic this time?"
"Huh?" Ron looked up, puzzled.
"We'll just fly together," Harry said.
"Whoever has a chance gives it a go, and maybe we'll nick one."
"Will that work?" Ron said, hesitating.
"Let's try it once," Neville said.
"We've already fallen far behind anyway."
"All right," Ron took a deep breath and nodded heavily.
"I'll take the kick-off then."
Ron asked George to pass him the ball.
Once everyone was ready, he flew forward together with Harry and Neville.
They passed the ball among the three of them, hoping to throw Duncan's side off and buy themselves a shooting chance.
Duncan arched an eyebrow, waved Fred and George forward, and himself held station in front of the goal, meeting change with no change.
Pressed by Fred and George, Harry's trio began to lose shape, but Neville still fought his way through.
Duncan immediately rode his broomstick up to block Neville's shot.
What he did not expect was that just as he was about to arrive, Harry popped up from who-knew-where, and Neville passed to him.
"Are Fred and George going easy on them?" flashed through Duncan's mind, and he darted after Harry.
Luckily, Neville had passed a fraction early, and Duncan caught up in time to cut off Harry's lane.
Harry had no choice but to turn away, only to find Fred had also recovered and was in front of him.
He was boxed in again.
But Harry acted as if he had not even seen Fred.
He charged straight ahead, as if betting Fred would give way.
"Harry, are you mad?" Fred yelled, yanking his broomstick up to avoid him, but a touch too late.
Just when everyone thought they would collide, Harry did something completely unexpected.
He let his body tip to the side.
Clinging to his broomstick, he hung in mid-air, slipped past Fred, broke through the line, and the goal was right there.
Only, at the last moment he failed to keep the broom tail steady and brushed lightly against Fred's broom.
In the instant before he lost control completely, Harry aimed at the goal and hurled the ball with all his might, then fell with his broom straight towards the ground.
Thankfully, Duncan had judged the spot, surged forward, and caught him.
Otherwise, Harry might have spent the next week in the hospital.
"Did it go in?" Harry asked, settling in behind Duncan, his heart still thudding wildly.
"It did, it did," Duncan replied.
Playing with these maniacs tests your mental fortitude…
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