Curses and Counter-Curses

Spirits Awakened.

Harry had used this mental magic from Neil on Uncle Vernon and his cousin Dudley many times. Though the spell was simple, its effects were excellent.

It greatly enhanced focus, concentrating the mind and creating a sense that everything came easily and went smoothly.

Now Ron had entered that state.

Harry had not wanted to casually use Neil's magic at Hogwarts. After all, there were too many powerful wizards here, and being discovered would inevitably cause trouble.

But if he did not use it now, they would lose this match!

The timeout was brief-so brief that the Slytherin players had yet to come down from the elation of their commanding lead. Still riding that high, they charged again, then crashed and burned.

Led by Slytherin captain Flint, the three Chasers broke through Gryffindor's defenses, then hurled the ball toward the hoop farthest from their stand-in Keeper, Ron.

Yet just as the Slytherin stands were about to erupt in cheers, a scarlet figure streaked over and caught the Quaffle securely in his arms.

"A fluke. That was just a fluke," Flint shouted to rally his team after Gryffindor scored a goal. "That first-year Carrot-Head just happened to catch one ball. You all saw how rubbish he was before."

The other Slytherin players nodded and launched another attack. Yet once again, Ron stopped them at the final hurdle.

If everyone had been too slow to react the first time Ron thwarted Slytherin's attack, this time the entire Gryffindor stand erupted.

"Ron! Ron Weasley! Our new Gryffindor Keeper! Did you see that? Did you see that?" Lee Jordan whooped excitedly.

Harry smiled in satisfaction. The results were better than he had expected.

He had long since noticed that Ron possessed exceptional talent, every bit as impressive as his own, even though Wood and Madam Hooch had called Harry a genius.

Yet Ron struggled to perform to his full potential for one simple reason: he lacked confidence.

Perhaps it was because he had five older brothers, all of them outstanding. Ever since Harry had met Ron, he had always lacked confidence. It seriously affected his performance in every area.

After conceding that first goal, he had panicked, then fallen apart.

But Harry had used Spirits Awakened to help him focus all his attention, keeping him from dwelling on those jumbled thoughts. Freed from distractions and able to give his all, Ron revealed his true ability.

For the next five full minutes, Slytherin made eleven attacks without scoring a single point!

Meanwhile, Gryffindor scored three goals, narrowing the gap to forty points.

The Slytherin Seeker, who had underestimated Ron, paid for his dismissive attitude with a full eleven attacking opportunities.

"Ron! Ron! Ron!"

At some point, after one of his saves, a rhythmic chant rose from the Gryffindor stands. The young wizards cheered for Ron, who seemed like a different person, as mighty as a god descended to earth. They gave him the highest honor of all: chanting his name.

Lee Jordan had even started composing a song for Ron. Unfortunately, though he was a black boy with dreadlocks, he did not seem to have any hip-hop in his blood-at least, none that showed itself at that moment.

With no need to worry about Ron anymore, Harry returned his attention to his own job. Just then, a glimmer of gold in a corner of the pitch caught his eye.

It was the Golden Snitch.

Harry's eyes lit up. The Slytherin Seeker was still watching him and had not noticed the Golden Snitch at all.

This was his chance. Harry carefully watched his opponent's movements, since the Golden Snitch was a little closer to the other boy. He tried flying slowly in the opposite direction to draw his opponent's attention, while keeping the glittering Golden Snitch in the corner of his eye.

The opposing Seeker noticed Harry's movement and flew toward him.

Almost. Just a little longer!

Harry watched his opponent's position while calculating the distance, ready to burst forward at any moment and catch the Golden Snitch in one go.

Just as he felt everything was nearly in place and prepared to send his broom surging forward, the broom beneath him began to shake violently.

Harry had once tried something called a mechanical bull. When someone sat on it, the imitation bull beneath them bucked wildly, trying to throw its rider off.

Now Harry felt exactly the same thing. This broom was clearly trying to throw him off.

Something was wrong. Very wrong!

Harry fought to keep his balance and stay on the broom. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Flying brooms were highly sophisticated magical items, capable, to some extent, of responding to their riders' thoughts.

He had read plenty of books about Quidditch and had never heard of a flying broom refusing to obey.

In the stands, Hermione had been smiling as Gryffindor's fortunes improved. Now, watching Harry in the air, her expression turned to bewildered alarm. "What's happening to Harry?"

"I don't know. Something looks really wrong," Neville said anxiously beside her. As they watched, Harry was nearly thrown off his broom.

What the hell? Someone's screwing with me!

Up in the air, Harry was cursing furiously. His Nimbus 2000 was the latest model; it could not simply malfunction. Someone had to be tampering with it. With no other solution, Harry suddenly thought of Magic Perception. With the broom bucking violently beneath him, it took an enormous effort just to activate it.