Aerial Entanglement and the Golden Snitch (6)

After the timeout ended, Madam Hooch followed the rules and released the Golden Snitch one last time. She opened her fingers over the small silver box, and that faint glimmer of gold looked utterly insignificant against the backdrop of torrential rain and mud, like a firefly tossed into the sea, barely causing a ripple. It staggered through the rain for a few circles, then skimmed low over the ground toward Gryffindor's half of the pitch.

From the Gryffindor stands came only scattered, low cries clinging to the last shred of hope. Those sounds did not come from their throats, but were squeezed from their chests, carrying the guilty uncertainty of people who no longer believed in miracles but were still pretending that they did.

Neville had lowered his sign, not because his arms were tired, but because he felt Harry would not look this way again. Seamus had his hands in his pockets, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood, yet he felt nothing. Dean leaned back against his seat with his head tilted upward, rain striking his face, and he did not wipe it away.

Harry gritted his teeth as rainwater mixed with mud streamed down his face and into his mouth—salty and metallic. He forced himself to look up again, trying to find that flash of gold in the gray gloom. The mist on his glasses was now so thick he could see nothing at all. He wiped them carelessly with his sleeve, but it was covered in mud, and the more he wiped, the worse it got. He took off his glasses, rubbed them twice against his robes, and put them back on. They were still blurry.

But he did not give up. Even if he knew it was futile, even if he