WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom span off course, Harry hanging on for dear life.
How's your back? - If I don't breathe, great. God, it has been so long since my back has acted up. Then, wham! Out of the blue, I'm crying by a tree stump.
Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and — WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap.