Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

“We do,” said Harry and Ron together.

“Well, they don’t look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from the other,” said Angelina, pocketing her parchment, “but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way on to the pitch without signposts.”

“Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mould,” Harry assured her.

They could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators’ stands. Some people were singing, though Harry could not make out the words. He was starting to feel nervous, but he knew his butterflies were as nothing compared to Ron’s, who was clutching his stomach and staring straight ahead again, his jaw set and his complexion pale grey.

“It’s time,” said Angelina in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. “C’mon everyone… good luck.”

The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight. A roar of sound greeted them in which Harry could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles.

The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They, too, were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley Dursley, with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters’ bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry’s eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.

“Captains, shake hands,” ordered the referee Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. Harry could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina’s fingers, though she did not wince. “Mount your brooms…”

Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron streak off towards the goalhoops. Harry zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same.

“And it’s Johnson—Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I’ve been saying it for years but she still won’t go out with me—”

“JORDAN!” yelled Professor McGonagall.

“—just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest—and she’s ducked Warrington, she’s passed Montague, she’s—ouch—been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe… Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and—nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that’s a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet’s away—”

Lee Jordan’s commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened as hard as he could through the wind whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.

“—dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger—close call, Alicia—and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what’s that they’re singing?”

And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That’s why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.

Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King.

“—and Alicia passes back to Angelina!” Lee shouted, and as Harry swerved, his insides boiling at what he had just heard, he knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. “Come on now, Angelina—looks like she’s got just the Keeper to beat!—SHE SHOOTS—SHE—aaaah…”

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.

Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King.

Harry could not help himself: abandoning his search for the Snitch, he wheeled around to watch Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goalhoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him.

“—and it’s Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he’s out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead—”

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring…

“—so it’s the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team—come on, Ron!”