QUIDDITCH
taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue
play, Gryffindor still in possession.”
It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning
dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sud-
den, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going
to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and
knees. He’d never felt anything like that.
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to
buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly de-
cide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the
Gryffindor goal posts — he had half a mind to ask Wood to call
time-out — and then he realized that his broom was completely
out of his control. He couldn’t turn it. He couldn’t direct it at all. It
was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making vi-
olent swishing movements that almost unseated him.
Lee was still commentating.
“Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes
Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it
broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — oh
no . . .”
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed
that Harry’s broom was behaving strangely It was carrying him
slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it
went.
“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled. He
stared through his binoculars. “If I didn’ know better, I’d say he’d
lost control of his broom . . . but he can’t have. . . .”
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands.
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