off, and she too was shouting furiously. 

Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights. 

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal -- Montague scores --" Lee groaned. "Seventy- twenty to Gryffindor..." 

Harry was now marking Malfoy so closely their knees kept hitting each other. Harry wasn't going to let Malfoy anywhere near the Snitch.... 

"Get out of it, Potter!" Malfoy yelled in frustration as he tried to turn and found Harry blocking him. 

"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!" 

Harry looked around. Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward Angelina, including the Slytherin Keeper -- they were all going to block her -- 

Harry wheeled the Firebolt around, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a bullet, he shot toward the Slytherins. 

"AAAAAAARRRGH!" 

They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed toward them; Angelina's Way was clear. 

"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty Points to twenty!" 

Harry, who had almost pelted headlong into the stands, skidded to a halt in midair, reversed, and zoomed back into the middle of the field.

 And then he saw something to make his heart stand still. Malfoy was diving, a look of triumph on his face -- there, a few feet above the grass below, was a tiny, golden glimmer -