Erin's broom jittered forward like a dog anxious to be let off its leash, the Seeker himself staring so hard and so narrow-eyed it almost hurt. The Snitch would pop up again any second. Erin could feel it. He'd played this game for years, he knew its tricks - he just had to be right there when it did.

The Snitch appeared - and Erin leapt. It was several meters above him now but he was closer than Heliotrope was, and he shot up in a rush that set robes and scarves in the stands to flapping, plastered his blonde hair flat to his head. Nothing else mattered but the little winged ball above him. The length between it and his fingers rapidly closed.

The tips of his fingers brushed it and Erin - already high on adrenaline-  felt the bat of the feathers against his palm as a burst of sweetness, the usual thrill. Then something rougher snaked across his skin, and the Snitch flicked sideways at the tug of the other Seeker's hand.

And just like that, he went from being in the intensely focused mood that pursuing the Snitch prompted to the abrupt white heat of a towering rage. Erin whirled on the Heliotrope, teeth bared, fingers curling in the air. "What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing!" he demanded, half-growl, half-scream. He was furious, absolutely furious, all memory of his Head of House's decree forgotten. Fight again, and you lose the captaincy...

It would have been one thing if she'd grabbed it from him fair and square. Erin had never (well, okay, only once or twice) turned on a player just for beating him to the Snitch. But a whip, a bloody whip? After he'd already touched it - felt the victory so close? He couldn't take that. If Hooch didn't call a foul, he was going to bash the girl off her manky little broom.

| Announcer |

If snakes zipped through the air like wing-less dragons, twisting and winding around each other like heads of a Hydra, as they took out little Hufflepuffs with deadly, relentless efficiency—then, as far as Connor was concerned, that was Slytherin’s Quidditch team in a nutshell.

For the last several minutes, they had been decimating their hapless opponents, showing everyone how little they cared about taking advantage of certain players’ inexperience, or lack of focus; again and again the green team scored, until the fourth year was reduced to shaking his head as he churned out commentary (“An’ Hufflepuff has a lucky break at last! Good on ya, Hunter!”) frequently riddled with sympathetic groans (“Well that ended pretty quickly…”). The match, so far, was proving to be both spectacular and downright painful – like an impending trainwreck of massive proportions – and it was all he could do to not fall out from the commentators’ stand, clutching at its edge as he’d curse the sky black with his swears.

Kitty’s assault, in particular, had been truly amazing; it wasn’t often one could see her in action like that, zeroing in on a luckless Hufflebutt with such ferocity that he really couldn’t have helped that “An’ Li’s claws have come out!” from escaping, a mixture of awe and glee coloring the words. (“Lejean’s fishbutt is cooked!” miraculously, had not.) Then, Slant – that fit sixth year who hung out with Naomi so much – and Naomi herself had swarmed in, like a vicious pair of Siamese twins, and then Strelnikov had made up a third and had gone after Sellaphix like a bullet. That the weird-looking second year had come out alive at all – after pulling a few crazy maneuvers that reminded Connor rather strongly of spider monkeys – was just… wow. Wow.

And then the whole mess had turned up the snitch.

He had winced when the Slytherin finally took a spill (“Y’ don’ see that every day…”) but rallied quickly as she’d taken back to the air amidst the sharp whistle of Hooch and the crowd’s booing; elsewhere, Figaro had just delivered a surprising blow to one Slytherin Chaser’s face (“An’ now Sellaphix checks Strelnikov in th’ face! Foul!”)—which ended in yet another nasty collision and the sharp sound of the whistle.

And Sellaphix still wasn’t done. “Guess that elbow hit harder than it looked,” Connor tsk’d in sympathy when the Hufflepuff successfully intercepted the pass. Even from where he sat, he could see the Chaser touching her face gingerly.

But, there was still time—and from Figaro’s hurried glances, the Ravenclaw could see that the older boy knew that, too; a Chaser without cover was a dead one. However, until then, Connor diverted his attention elsewhere, to that one pair who could make or break the game for either of the teams. “Looks like Harper’s found th’ Snitch!” he crowed excitedly as green and silver zipped after gold, the Seeker’s speed belying fierce intent. “This is it, folks, this is it-”

And then… it wasn’t.

Connor had, quite literally, actually gone gobsmack-speechless as the scene unfurled before him. To his own ears, shock had sucked in all sound, that the whistling sound of high winds, fast brooms, cackling bludgers and boisterous crowd combined seemed far, far away. She did not-

But she had. A tongue of ugly green had licked out and curled itself around that tiny, golden ball.

He sucked in a deep, shuddering, vacuum of a breath.

“Foul!” Connor roared into the mike, fury and outrage spilling into the field with unforgiving abandon and turning those tired-looking eyes a bright, blazing blue. “LeJean’s taken out ‘er bloody, soddin’ fishwhip! Stole it right outta Harper’s hand-” Anger turned those thin, freckled cheeks splotchy; his Quidditch fan soul positively smarted at the move. Because, what the hell! What the honest, bloody hell! You didn’t do shite like that in Quidditch. A guy might cobb and blatch and bumph and flag, but Quidditch was sacred!

He held the mike in a white-knuckled death grip. “What the hell, Hufflepuff! Foul foul foul-!”

|Announcer|

Ananke happily let Mr. Todd narrate the rest of the game--with 2nd year Hufflepuffs crashing into the pitch and Slytherin flying patiently and expertly, the game seemed rather predictable. And as Mr. Harper had his fingers around the snitch the game seemed won--that was until Miss LeJean did something very outrageous and--as Mr. Todd colorfully put it, unsportsmanlike and most likely earning a foul.

However the Ravenclaw boy said it too colorfully.

As stand erupted into outrage and cheers Ananke suddenly lowered her hands to her lap and turned to towards the counter to face the pitch. She lifted her hands and elbows again and leaned on the counter, and, with that one movement, Connor Todd's voice suddenly came to an abrupt halt though the boy still seemed to be moving his mouth--unaware of a clever Silencio spell that had just been cast on him.

"I'm sorry, it seems Mr. Todd has lost his voice," Ananke's voice then calmly drawled over the speakers, "So, to continue, while exciting and edgy, Miss LeJean has done at least one thing wrong here--and it is that she used a piece of kelp as a means to catch a snitch, which is on par with giving her an extendable net or letting someone use their wand to stop a bludger."Ananke's voice was light and crisp as she made the comparisons, and while they were harsh they seemed to have the intended effect she wanted as the stands seemed to calm into a hum of murmurs before she continued.

"The real problem here, however, is that if Mr. Harper touched the snitch first, then Miss LeJean is due for a harsher penalty--one that is up to the discretion of Madame Hooch." The stands seemed to quiet down and hold their breath then, as they awaited Madame Hooch's decision on the matter. Was the game over? Would the snitch be thrown back in play? Would Kelp Whips be deemed illegal? Who knew? Ananke's main concern was that a certain Ravenclaw boy would be having detention with her after the game.

Fweeeet!

Hooch's shreiking whistle came through the deafening din of the protests and counter-protests of the announcer, the crowd and both Quidditch teams.  Hooch's whistle was barely necessary to stop the progress of the other players, half of whom were already rushing up towards the Seekers.

Hooch herself was pink with frustration.  Fweeeet! Fweeet!

"Freeze! Nobody move!" Hooch was over 90-years-old, but it didn't matter.  The witch could be heard if she wanted to be and heard she was.  Her orders to Erin and Heliotrope were unmistakable.  "Not an inch, you two! Freeze!"

In the background, Hooch could hear Professor Cosmos commentating, explaining the situation aptly.  It was highly unusual yet, the rules were simple.  Whoever caught the snitch first imprinted on the ball and earned 150 points.  That is, if the catch was legal.  Snitches obtained through the use of a foul could initiate all sorts of strange scenarios - forfeits, fouls, fines, floggings...!

But had the snitch been touched?

In a firm movement, Hooch took the tangled length of kelp from Heliotrope's grip.  Inside the tangle, the snitch's wings were buzzing angrily.  Hooch unwound it and pinched the snitch between her gloved fingers.  The snitch was caught.  But who'd touched it first? She eyeballed both Erin and Heliotrope sharply. 

"I shall release the snitch," she said.  "And it will come to the Seeker who touched it first, ending the match.  However - Hufflepuff has committed an Unlawful Snitchnip," she looked at Heliotrope with a tired sort of admonishment.  "You can't use wands or objects to catch the snitch.  Body parts only, LeJean."

She continued again.  "If the Unlawful Snitchnip resulted in a catch for Hufflepuff, then Hufflepuff must forfeit.  If not, then Hufflepuff endures a 10 point penalty."

After a pause, she held the snitch high and then released it. It zipped to and fro in an agonizing display of indecision, and then finally zipped straight at Erin Harper's face.  It was clear.

"Slytherin catches the snitch! Hufflepuff penalized 10 points for an Unlawful Snitchnip! The match is ended!"

What a frustrating match.  Hooch veered off, leaving the players to collect themselves, and the announcers to roll out the grand Hurrah of the inevitable but strange Slytherin victory. 

"Not an inch, you two! Freeze!"

Erin froze, but he wasn't happy about it. He rumbled with anger and pent-up frustration as Hooch shot up to meet them, his hard glare flicking from Heliotrope, to the caught Snitch, to Hooch's hands as she carefully untangled the little ball from the strands of kelp.

It rushed at his face, but it wasn't the victory he wanted. It had hesitated. This whole game was well and truly buggered. Grimly he reached up and crushed the Snitch in his grip, its wings twitching weakly inside his fingers like a second heartbeat. The score was called, and it was a whopping difference - it was, in fact, better than any Slytherin could have hoped for - but even Hufflepuff's negative score wasn't enough to penetrate his black mood. Erin's fingers loosened, and the Snitch careened away. He dove for the ground, his boots hitting the dirt with a vengeance as he stomped off towards the Slytherin locker rooms.

He waved a hand behind him, in sharp dismissal to his team.

Alice gave a sad huff, as her shoulders dropped. She wasn't upset that they'd lost. She expected that. She was upset that they were in the negatives as the game ended. It wasn't Helio's fault though. Alice always liked Helio. She just didn't know. Alice was a little upset, however, that as hard as she tried, after the single goal she was able to block, they still ended on the bottom.

She began to drop on her broom, floating down to the ground, where she stepped off, her shoulders drooped. But, Alice perked herself up. No need to be upset! She didn't fall, that's for sure. She wasn't hurt, and she had fun. Well, yeah, I guess you could call it fun. She smiled, as she tucked her broom under her arm, and looked around. No need for negativity.

"We catch fish this way," Helio said with nonchalance by comparison to the opposing Seeker's outburst. The method should have caught the snidge thing but soon the Flying Instruction Lady was on them and the announcers were calling 'fowl.' Heliotrope paused to look about but didn't notice any birds. Was the chicken meat a part of the game?

Having no idea as to what was going on, Helio sat there on her broom during the proceedings. Then there were words spoken, more announcements, cheers and boos from the watchers in the stands, then Slytherin was flying off after it was said the match had ended.

"Does that mean the Quidditch is over?" Heliotrope asked, still sitting on her broom.

The eruption from the crowd and Connor Todd over the loud speakers nearly drowned out the whistle tones marking an egregious foul and halt of the game progress.  Figaro still had the quaffle, but it turned out not to matter.  The snitch had been caught, but it wasn't that simple.

He watched intently as Hooch spelled out the foul and the sad truth.  Helio had nearly gotten to the snitch first but had totally blown it.  The catch was fair and square to Erin Harper and the match was ended and they were worse off than they began.

He just watched in dumb silence as the energy drained from the pitch.  It was... kiiiind of hilarious!  He laughed a silenced laugh and lazily made a lap up to retrieve Helio.  He patted their poor misunderstood, misunderstanding Seeker.  Yup.  That was it.  Someone would explain it to her later.

Ayla let out a long string of curses that would have made even her motorcycle riding uncle blush. She shook her head with a scowl. She hadn't even gotten a chance to get possession of the quaffle all match and she had wanted nothing more than to get it pass that pompous excuse for a human being - Tawse. So much for being Captain.

She lowered her broom, zooming down to the grass of the pitch and leapt off before she was even a few feet from a comfortable dismount. She swung her broom over her shoulder and marched into the locker room without looking at any of her team mates. She had a feeling none of them felt as horrible as she did. But then why should they? It wasn't them who had been trained by the great Mystique Ketteridge. They weren't the ones who had been on the team for the past year and a half. They hadn't spent a whole night in the Hospital Hut regrowing their shattered Shoulder blade all in the name of getting a score in on Slytherin the previous year. To most of them this would have just been a game, one that they had tried their best in, one they could walk away from without a second thought.

She ignored the raucous cheers of the Slytherin stands and their team. She could just see that stupid smirk on Xavier's face as he hugged his little Russian Ice Princess. She wiped at the tears on her cheeks while pulling on her clothes, throwing her Quidditch robes into her rucksack and hoping to slink out of the locker room unnoticed and unbothered by anyone on her way back up to the castle.