“And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch!”

“And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch!” said Zacharias Smith through his megaphone. “Yes, he's certainly seen something Potter hasn't!”

Smith really was an idiot, thought Harry, hadn't he noticed them collide? But next moment, his stomach seemed to drop out of the sky—Smith was right and Harry was

wrong: Harper had not sped upward at random; he had spotted what Harry had not: the Snitch was speeding along high above them, glinting brightly against the clear blue

sky.

Harry accelerated; the wind was whistling in his ears so that it drowned all sound of Smith's commentary or the crowd, but Harper was still ahead of him, and Gryffindor

was only a hundred points up; if Harper got there first Gryffindor had lost... and now Harper was feet from it, his hand outstretched...

“Oi, Harper!” yelled Harry in desperation. “How much did Malfoy pay you to come on instead of him?”

He did not know what made him say it, but Harper did a double-take; he fumbled the Snitch, let it slip through his fingers, and shot right past it. Harry made a great

swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.

“YES!” Hairy yelled: wheeling around, he hurtled back toward the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand. As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went

up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.

“Ginny, where're you going?” yelled Harry, who had found himself trapped in the midst of a mass midair hug with the rest of the team, but Ginny sped right on past

them until, with an almighty crash, she collided with the commentator's podium. As the crowd shrieked and laughed, the Gryffindor team landed beside the wreckage of

wood under which Zacharias was feebly stirring, Harry heard Ginny saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall, “Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry.”

Laughing, Harry broke free of the rest of the team and hugged Ginny, but let go very quickly. Avoiding her gaze, he clapped cheering Ron on the back instead as, all

enmity forgotten, the Gryffindor team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters.

The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant. “Party up in the common room, Seamus said!” yelled Dean exuberantly. “C'mon, Ginny, Demelza!”

Ron and Harry were the last two in the changing room. They were just about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked

upset but determined.

“I want a word with you, Harry.” She took a deep breath. “You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal.”

“What are you going to do, turn us in?” demanded Ron.

“What are you two talking about?” asked Harry, turning away to hang up his robes so that neither of them would see him grinning.

“You know perfectly well what we're talking about!” said Hermione shrilly. “You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!”

“No, I didn't,” said Harry, turning back to face them both.