Harry Potter and all associated characters are the property of JK Rowling.
This story belongs to MinaandChao. I make no claim to ownership.
Chapter 7: Stings Like a B****
Harry met with the rest of the team in the locker room, sitting nervously on one of the benches as Flint prowled around them like an angry bear. None of the other players looked particularly nervous - all of them had played the year before - and but instead looked fiercely excited.
"I know you lot are ready to go out and show those lions the new tricks we've learned." Filch growled out, and the team perked up and traded vicious looks. "But pull back this time, alright?" That earned him frowns and a few protests. "Oh, shut your damned mouths. It's only Gryffindor - I don't want you wasting our new strategies on such a pathetic team. They haven't won more than a game in a decade, and Wood's got more enthusiasm than brains. Best save our tricks for Ravenclaw - they've got a new Seeker as well, and she looks like she actually knows how to use her brain." That got him some snorts. Of course the Ravenclaw could fight smart. Flint frowned at them and they shut up. "Now go kick their asses! If you lot don't win by a landslide I will having you doing laps until you drop dead of exhaustion, you got that?" Cheers were his response and he motioned for them to line up.
Harry followed, silent and feeling sick, before Flint grabbed his shoulder and dragged him a couple of steps off. Looking him straight in the eye, Flint patted him on the shoulder like he was trying to comfort the smaller boy, but only succeeded in knocking him around a bit. "Potter, I'll be keeping a close eye on you. Can't have you messing up now, can we? Besides, those twins are going to be on your ass the entire time, and I didn't waste all that effort training you up just to have you broken in your first game." He patted Harry again and turned to join the rest of the team.
For a moment Harry stood there, wondering what this House was doing to him so that speech actually sounded comforting. Then his musings were interrupted by the sound of the team getting called out, and he ran to catch up, mounting his broom and soaring up. Nearly three quarters of the school seemed to be booing, having thrown their lot in with Gryffindor. However, he could see small pockets of cheers within the other Houses - Ron looked like he was carrying a small Slytherin flag, though it was nearly covered by the various red and gold items and clothing articles he had. He still gave a little wave, and the tiny flag got waggled at him in response.
Madame Hooch came out and gave a quick warning about fair play, directed near directly at Flint, who merely smirked at her and then Wood. Then the balls were released and Harry couldn't see anything but blurs of color. He tried to watch the snitch, ignoring the sound of Lee Jordan's commentary as the game began, but the little glint of gold quickly darted out of view.
He rose above the pitch, circling slowly, watching the game unravel in fascination. He'd seen pictures of the game, but nothing compared to the thrum of adrenaline and the graceful moves of the players in action. He saw Flint glare at him and focused back on his task, twisting this way and that as he searched for the Snitch.
The Gryffindor Seeker, a gangly brunette 5th year who looked too long for his broom, was tracking him, deciding it was easier to simply follow Harry than to try and find it on his own. The smaller boy thought about pointing out to him how utterly un-House-like that seemed, but figured his advice would only be sneered at. Instead he put on a burst of speed straight up, grinning as the other boy followed, and then did a tight loop and started going almost straight down, enjoying the feel of the forces at play and the whipping wind. The other Seeker tried to follow him, but just ended up nearly falling off his broom, and stayed a good bit farther away from Harry afterwards.
He could hear Jordan saying something about sneaky moves, but he wasn't sure if the boy was talking about him or another Slytherin and didn't really care. Instead he slowly tracked around the pitch, getting slightly frustrated at the lack of any sign of the ball. Of course, it was much harder to see it with all the motion distracting him, but normally he'd caught at least a hint of the thing before now.
He turned and flew back towards his teams side of the pitch, just slightly above the hoops, hoping that the new angle would help him, and knowing the twins would be more reluctant to send a Bludger this way - they could interrupt their Chasers trying to make a goal, or simply send the dangerous ball right into the hands of his own team's Beaters.
When no glint because visible, Harry started to fly back up, only to feel the broom jerk in his grasp. He gripped tighter on the handle and looked down at it, confused, and nearly tumbled over when it moved again, this time with a stronger motion. Soon it was bucking, completely wild, and he had to cling with all his might to keep from losing his grip.
There was gasping as people started to see his struggles, and he heard Jordan claim that he'd lost control of his broom, but it was just all a part of the blur of sensation that had become his world. Harry could feel his grip slipping and a small, dramatic part of his brain that sounded a bit like Draco began reciting goodbyes to the world.
Just as one hand finally slipped off the broom and Harry felt himself tumble sideways, a huge hand grabbed onto him and Harry was lifted bodily off the broom and over Flint's shoulders. The captain had grabbed onto Harry's broom, where it continued to wriggle in his grasp like it wanted to become a snake and slither away. He struggled with it one-handed for a moment, muscles bulging and holding the broom as steady as possible, but his head was looking around at the audiences, finally pausing at the teacher's booth, where the Malfoys also were. Though he couldn't see who Flint was looking at precisely - Flint's huge back blocked his view - Harry felt his face heat with shame. What a way to be introduced to Draco's parents, and to thank them for the broom.
Running out of patience, Flint maneuvered Harry so that he was securely on the older boy's broom in front of the captain. The he reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, murmuring a few spells which Harry figured cancelled jinxes or curses. Finally it stopped bucking, settling down and acting normal. Harry swung onto his like a monkey, pulling himself up easily, and Flint nodded at him and went back to the hoops, which thankfully no one had tried for while they were incapacitated - there was a good side to going against the Gryffindors after all.
Harry glanced at Madam Hooch, who was blinking in shock with the whistle in her mouth ready to blow, and gave her a thumbs up. She weakly returned the gesture. Nodding once more at her, Harry soared up higher as the game renewed, this time catching sight of the Snitch almost instantly. Instead of dashing after it, he took a look around for the Gryffindor Seeker, spotting the boy slightly closer to the ball, but looking in the opposite direction. He was now not paying attention to Harry at all and keeping well away, as if afraid bucking brooms were contagious. Taking that little advantage, Harry drifted closer to the Snitch, keeping a close eye on it while looking as unexcited as possible.
Once the distance between them was equal, Harry shot forward, following the Snitch's trail. The other boy noticed quickly and dashed after, his experience making up for Harry's superior broom. The two were side-by-side for one dramatic moment, running along the grass of the pitch, when the tiny gold ball darted sideways towards Harry. He reached out for it, feeling his fingers run along it's edges, but then had the sickening feeling of pitching forward as the other Seeker over-adjusted and slammed into him, sending him flying forward and crashing into the ground.
Silence descended upon the pitch as everyone waited to see how damaged he was. Harry sat up slowly, feeling achy and most definitely bruised but not like anything had broken. Instead there was something in his mouth, and he spat it out, grabbing the Snitch before it could take advantage of its new found freedom and raised it up in the air.
The Slytherin stands went wild, followed slightly later and less enthusiastically by Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. There was polite, disappointed clapping from the Gryffindors, who couldn't really complain, seeing as how Flint's team had played a remarkably clean game.
Flint landed next to him and gave him a hard, congratulatory pat on the back, which nearly sent Harry sprawling back on the ground. Harry's eyes searched out Draco and Pansy, who were clapping and waving wildly and grinned.
"Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Slytherin wins!"
After a hot shower Harry changed back into his usual robes and exited the locker room with exhausted pleasure. Pansy, Draco, and Ron were waiting for him. Harry had to admit, seeing Ron there, looking so relaxed, while also slightly perturbed in his red and gold next to his Housemates made him feel fuzzy.
"Alright?" Ron asked, his face flushed pink with excitement.
"Yeah." Harry offered back, grinning. "How'd I do for my first game."
"Brilliant!" Pansy thumped him on the back and looped her arm with his. "A little unorthodox, though. I don't think anyone's caught the snitch in their mouth before."
"I don't think that was his plan," Draco laughed, rolling his eyes at Pansy. "It was amazing is what it was. Not to mention six Ravenclaws owe me for us winning that game!"
Harry snorted. "Glad I could service your financial needs, Draco."
"Anyway, I should get back to the Tower. People already sent a few stinging jinxes after me for supporting you." Ron rose a shoulder in a shrug. "Whatever, you're way better than our Seeker anyway, just... don't tell them I said that."
Harry watched as Ron headed off with a wave before he, Draco and Pansy headed towards their own Common Room. "Did your parents go home?"
"Yeah. They wanted to tell you that you did a good job and they're sorry they couldn't celebrate with you but my dad has a meeting tomorrow morning."
"Harry," Pansy questioned as they headed down the stairs into the dungeons, "what happened with your broom?"
"Dunno. First game jitters? Maybe I was cursing it with my nervousness?"
"We were awfully worried. You could have fallen!"
Harry smiled at Pansy and patted her arm, squeezing in assurance. "I'm safe, so you don't need to worry a single hair on your head."
Pansy gave an over dramatic sigh and rested her head on his shoulder and the three of them burst into laughter as they walked into their Common Room. Cheers exploded and confetti rained down and sparks shot out from wands. Harry dropped onto a couch, flanked by Pansy and Draco and took a bunch of galleons and sickles thrust his way as reward and thanks from people who betted on him. Waves of chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts came along with cheers and pats on the back. It was all a little much.
Harry laughed as he bit into a chocolate frog and crunched down, humming happily. He could get used to this! He grabbed a yellow bean from the box Pansy wrestled open and bit into it hesitantly before popping the rest into his mouth when he found out it tasted of popcorn. Across the room he saw a fourth year boy snorting smoke and breathing flame and his eyebrows rose.
"What is that? A charm?"
"He's probably got some Pepper Imps." Pansy chewed on a bean before making a fance but forced herself to swallow it. "Eugh! Tripe!" She took a drink of pumpkin juice to erase the taste. "They're a Wizarding candy. They're sold in a few shops, and pretty good."
"D'you think he'd let me have one?"
"Harry," Draco drawled, sucking on some kind of lolly, "you are Harry Potter. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. And besides, you just won the first game of the season." With that, Draco shoved him up off the couch and towards the other boy.
A minute later Harry dropped back into his spot, chewing on the peppermint candy. It was so ice-cool it was hot, and several seconds later smoke was curling at the edges of his mouth. He exhaled and his brows rose in wonder as a small, harmless, bright scarlet jet of flame left his lips. Magic. Was. Awesome.
"Potter, a word?"
Harry looked up at Flint, who looked displeased and a frown creased Harry's brow but he nodded and stood as the last of the candy's effects wore off. He trailed behind Flint to a dorm room and was tugged inside. It was empty and Harry's eyes searched about. He figured it was Flint's, since he didn't recognize anything.
"What's going on?"
"I thought you'd like to know who was bewitching your broom during the game today."
Harry's brows shot up. "Someone was bewitching my broom?"
Flint nodded once, sharply. "It was Snape. He was muttering under his breath the whole while your broom was going mad."
Harry froze, his body going numb, and he watched in shock as Marcus turned around and returned to the party as casually as if he had just reported the weather.
The day found Harry waiting in front of Snape's door, feeling a nauseating mix of fear, confusion and betrayal. He wasn't even entirely sure why we was here - Draco and Pansy had told him in no uncertain terms that they felt he should just skip the meeting and stay safe in the dorms. Pansy had even offered to forge a letter by him (how she even knew how to do that, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know) saying that he was sick and couldn't come.
But Harry thought there had to be some Gryffindor in him from his parents, because he couldn't do it. He had to know what the professor had been doing. After all, the man had plenty of chances to kill him nearly every week - why would he suddenly want Harry dead during the game?
Maybe, a part of him suggested, he was waiting to for a chance where the blame couldn't be put on him. After all, it would look really suspicious if you died in his chambers, wouldn't it? Especially when you were only supposed to be reading. But if you were making a potion and there was an accident...
Harry gulped and looked down at the cauldron he was carrying and shifted uncomfortably. He'd just have to be careful, was all. Steeling himself, Harry shuffled the cauldron into one hand and awkwardly reached out and knocked at the door. It opened immediately, and as he stepped through Harry could see Snape sitting at his desk with his wand out. He fought back an instinctive flinch and instead studied the man's face. Really, he didn't look more than vaguely irritated - Harry was probably a few minutes late, what with how he'd waited outside for so long. Then again, even after all the one-on-one time he'd spent with the man, Harry still had trouble reading even a little bit into his expressions.
"Take a seat, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, standing slowly. Harry nodded and made his way over to his normal spot, which now had a desk next to it. He dumped the cauldron onto it and carefully watched the professor as he went to a cabinet and began picking out ingredients. He gazed back at Harry. "If you would, grab the book I have been letting you read from the shelves and turn to page 248."
Nodding slowly, Harry got up and reluctantly made his way over to the shelf. He gently eased the book out, wary that it was somehow booby-trapped. Honestly, it was kind of stupid of him - why kill him with a shelf when there was going to be a cauldron full of possibly dangerous liquid - but he couldn't help feeling on edge. When the book came out with no problems Harry resisted the urge to sigh with relief and made his way back over to the desk, flipping through the pages as he did so.
Page 248 turned out to be a Boil Cure Potion, and Harry frowned at it. That wasn't a dangerous potion at all - they'd done it in the very first Potions class. He glanced up as his professor, who was coming back with an armful of ingredients. Snape caught his expression and arched an eyebrow. "The Boil Cure Potion used today is a newer recipe - the one you see before you is from several decades ago, and is somewhat more tricky." The last word was drawled out, his voice ever so slightly dark, and Harry's eyes widened. "You should be alright, provided you are not...distracted." He paused to give Harry a significant look, and the boy realized that he'd been unusually quiet so far.
Forcing a small smile on his face, Harry looked up into the man's eyes. "Sorry, Sir. I'm just a bit shaken up from yesterday."
Snape's expression didn't change in the slightest, and black eyes gazed intently into green ones. "That is quite understandable, Mr. Potter. I suppose I'll just have to keep my eye on you, to prevent any accidents."
This time Harry gulped audibly, and he nodded a bit, hoping that his professor would simply think it nerves. Watching Snape out of the corner of his eye, Harry began prepping the ingredients. He recognized a few combinations that could be explosive in the right conditions and felt his nervousness spike up.
About halfway through the potion, Snape spoke up. "Be careful in adding the next ingredient. This step can get rather dangerous." His voice was silky and his eyes stared intently at the top of Harry's head.
Unable to take it anymore, Harry turned off the heat with a wave of his wand and stumbled away from the cauldron, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. Snape snapped out a, "Mr. Potter?", sounding equal parts confused and angry, and he whirled to look him in the eye.
"Why did you do it?" He demanded, taking all the bravery and bravado he had and putting it up as a front so he didn't look as terrified as he felt. "Why did you curse my broom?"
Snape gaped - actually gaped - at him. "How dare you-"
Shaking his head, Harry took a cautious step backwards toward the door. "Flint saw you! He saw you casting when he came and got me." Taking another step backward, he straightened his back. "So why do you want me dead, Professor?"
The man's shock gave way to anger, and his finger's dug into his desk - and kept away from his wand, Harry carefully noted. "You ungrateful brat!" The professor snarled. "I was trying to save you!" Harry opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off by a wave of the professor's hand. "I wasn't casting the curse - I was casting the counter! I was trying to keep you from falling to your death, stupid boy! Did you ever think of that?"
"No, I didn't." Harry returned, quite angry himself. "Because I have a lot of enemies, don't I, Professor? Whatever happened on that Halloween night, as far as I'm concerned all it did was make me an orphan and the number one target of loads of really terrifying people." He tensed up and took one more step back so that he was just a second away from the door. "So tell me, what reason could you possibly have to want me alive?"
Snape blinked at him, and then scowled. "My reasons are my own, Potter! I have no reason to need to justify myself to you."
"Yes, you do! This is my life." Harry was aware that he was pushing it, but couldn't bring himself to care. "So far as I'm concerned, anyone who doesn't have a reason for me to be alive wants me dead. Unless you can tell me why you would cast the counter..." He trailed off, not sure how to finish that...threat? Plea?
For a long moment, the professor stared at him, before shaking his head. "I admit to having reasons, but they are not ones for your ears."
Harry stared at him, face carefully blank. That wasn't good enough. "I...I don't think I should be here anymore. I'll see you in class, Professor." With that he turned and dashed out, ignoring Snape when he called his name.
He should have known better, really. It was his own fault for trusting the man.
