Aerial Duel and the Golden Snitch (III)

He began to fly, slowing down. He no longer followed Draco's path, no longer looked at the white dome of smoke above the Slytherin stands, no longer listened to that song mocking him.

He simply flew from one end of the pitch to the other, then from that end back again. Neither high nor low, neither fast nor slow. Rain lashed his face and ran down his chin. His fingers were stiff with cold, and every time he tightened his grip on the broom handle, he had to force it. His back ached, his shoulders were rigid, and the insides of his thighs were red and itchy from being soaked by the rain.

He did not care.

He just kept flying.

Then he saw it.

Not a flash of gold, but a feeling. Something indescribable, like someone lightly tapping on glass in the distance. He looked up toward the southwestern corner of the pitch, near the edge of the Hufflepuff stands. Within the curtain of rain was an incredibly faint, flickering golden speck.

It was tiny, dim, easy to miss.

But it was there.

Harry did not shout, speed up, or even change his expression. He merely adjusted the direction of his broom slightly and flew toward it at an unhurried pace.

He could not let Draco notice. If Draco knew he had found the Golden Snitch, the Nimbus 2001 would come charging over within two seconds and snatch it away from right in front of him. He had to pretend he had noticed nothing. Before Draco did, he had to get his hand on the Snitch.

He drew closer and closer to that speck of light. Fifty feet, forty feet, thirty feet. He could already make out those tiny wings beating frantically, golden and gleaming in the rain like