I found it surprising that I actually felt conflicted about whether to try to search for the chamber or to go to the Quidditch match – the first match of the year. Usually I would have picked 'search for the chamber' straight away – after all, it's the perfect opportunity to sneak around without anyone noticing me, as everyone will be at the match, students and staff alike. But the match is all Draco's been going on about, as it's his first real game as the Slytherin seeker. Not to mention Pansy and the others are expecting me to be there – if I suddenly disappear, they might suspect something. And with talk about the chamber on the agenda every day, there's always the chance someone will get suspicious. I thought over it for most of the evening, even considering the possibility that someone might have planned the whole stunt in the corridor to draw me out, catch me red-handed as it were, to being the Heir of Slytherin. But, as possible as it was, it seemed rather far-fetched. Petrifying Mrs Norris? Writing words in blood? And the voice was no trick. That was real.

That was when I thought it might be easier to find the chamber if the voice started talking again. Then, I could follow it back, and find out who released it, and where it lives – and by doing so, find the entrance to the chamber. The only problem with that is that the person who opened the chamber will most likely also be at the match. McGonagall said it herself – the school has been searched many times. Without the voice, my chances of finding the chamber are slim.

And so I found myself sitting uncomfortably amongst the rest of Slytherin house as they screamed and cheered around me for our victory. By the first goal (10 – 00 to Slytherin, as announced by Lee Jordan from the teacher's stand) I was regretting my decision, wishing I had risked being noticed as missing from the crowd. I was deafened from every angle, anger slowly building. I tried to focus on the brooms racing by, the quaffle whizzing from player to player, bludgers aiming for heads of both sides alike, and the elusive snitch, seemingly invisible amidst all the chaos. Instead, I found myself only getting more and more irritated as heads disrupted my field of vision, shoulders crammed against my own.

I began to feel like a trapped animal in a cage about to snap when I felt a sharp shove on my back. I span my head around with a glare to see Pansy smirking as she squeezed past to join Millicent and Tracy further along. I had a feeling she had moved deliberately to come back to shove me. One more time and that's it… I'm giving her as many chances as possible, I'm not being unreasonable, but she's going to get what's coming to her…

I turned back around, with a glare still etched onto my face and continued trying to watch the players. Slytherin was doing well, using cheap dirty tactics and the occasional move which I assume to be cheating, such as one player slamming into the Gryffindor keeper while the other scored the goal. Still, we were winning. 20 – 00, 30 – 00, 40 – 00, then one score for Gryffindor, and another, before we took it back. As Lee Jordan's voice echoed the fast-changing score amongst the crowd, the Slytherin students around me seemed to get more and more excited, more wild. Flags were waving, hands thundering in a wave of applause as the score reached 90 – 30 for Slytherin.

I focused on Draco and Harry in particular, and watched as Draco paused behind him, hovering a few more feet in the air than Harry. I couldn't see what was happening – they were too far away – but I assumed Draco was insulting him in some way or another – he usually is. Harry ducked to avoid a bludger – a standard routine in this game it seems. Only then it did a u-turn, knocking another Gryffindor player off his broom and sending him spiralling to the ground in the process. Harry ducked again, only for it to come back around for him. I frowned as he dove, attempting to out-fly it. It stayed on his tail, barely a meter away from the end of his broom at any one time. I don't know much about this game, but I do know bludgers aren't supposed to do that. Someone must have tampered with it.

Both Harry and the bludger raced by, Harry manoeuvring skilfully around the tall teacher's stands, the bludger slamming right through them, leaving a wreckage of wood and fabric in its wake. I was surprised Dumbledore or one of the other professors didn't do anything about it – if Dumbledore's the great wizard everyone says he is (well, everyone who's not in Slytherin anyway) shouldn't he be able to stop a tampered bludger?

Harry did a quick dodge-dive that sent the bludger careering past him into a Ravenclaw stand and off the pitch. He flew carefully back up, and Draco joined him, probably to insult him some more. This time they were close enough to us to see, only it wasn't what our house wanted to see at all. The snitch was hovering barely inches away from Draco's left ear, and he hadn't noticed it, too busy boasting or insulting or whatever it was he was doing, and Harry knew it.

Collectively we groaned a groan of utter frustration as the bludger came back onto the pitch, again aiming for Harry, and he swiftly flew after the snitch. Draco, quickly realising his stupidity, raced after him around the outside of the pitch, slamming into him and taking the lead before the dove out of sight under the stands.

The Slytherin house seemed united at that moment for a few brief seconds as every eye in our stand scanned the ground, waiting for them to reappear, preferably with Draco holding the snitch, although I doubted it highly. They resurfaced for a brief moment, neck and neck, the bludger dangerously close to them, as a young Gryffindor on the pitch took a photograph of them, ducking a second later to avoid the rogue ball. They dove again, and again went out of sight.

A few seconds later, they resurfaced again, only Draco was off of his broom, flying through the air and careering onto the ground, bouncing and flipping a few times before finally landing painfully. Pansy, a few people down, was instantly on her feet and panicking to those around her. I rolled my eyes – he'd live. Harry, on the other hand, I wasn't so sure about.

He was inches away from the snitch, stretching his arm out as far as he could, when the bludger came and slammed into him. His broom span for a moment as he clutched his arm close to his chest, and yet he still stayed on the snitch's tail, moving to hold out his other arm. Unbalanced and wobbly, he span upside down and landed harshly on the sand of the pitch, but not before he caught the snitch.

"Harry Potter has caught the snitch!" Lee Jordan announced gleefully "Gryffindor wins!" I was already on my feet, along with a few other curious Slytherins, including Pansy (who was probably going to Draco rather than Harry) hurrying down to the pitch to see what damage had been done.

I reached the bottom of the stairs of our stand just in time to see the bludger flying directly at Harry as he rolled trying to escape it. It slammed into the sand and rose up again in what would be a clear head-shot when it exploded into ashes. Harry sat up as we all approached, Hermione, Ron and Hagrid included. Hermione had her wand out, and was most likely the cause of the bludger's end.

"Thank you," Harry said to her wincing.

"Are you ok?"
"No, I think my arm's broken," he said with a hiss of pain. Professor Lockhart hurried over and knelt by him.

"Not to worry Harry, I will fix that arm of yours straightaway." He announced.

"No," Harry said, suddenly looking very worried "Not you."

"Poor boy, he doesn't know what he's saying," Lockhart said, ignoring him and rolling up his sleeve to reveal the arm beneath. Well, this is going to go great. Harry will be in the hospital wing for a month after this idiot's done with him.

"Wouldn't it be better taking him to Madam Pomfrey?" I suggested, and Harry quickly nodded, but Lockhart ignored the both of us.

"Now this won't hurt a bit," he said as Harry winced. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the broken arm.

"Brackium emendo!" he said clearly, and a low, soft blue light pulsed at the tip of his wand. He put his wand down confidently with a smile on his face and picked up the arm, only for it to squelch and flop in his hand. The people around me grimaced and moaned in disgust.

"Ah, yes, well that can sometimes happen, but the point is," he said, and bent Harry's wrist backwards so the back of his fingers were touching his forearm "you can no longer feel any pain, and the bones are clearly not broken."

"Broken?!" "Hagrid said angrily "There are no bones left!" Harry's wrist sprang back into place as he stared at it, eyes wide. Lockhart tried to smile, but didn't quite manage it.

"Much more flexible though," he muttered.