Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't make money off of them, though my character is original. And yes, most of the stuff in here that sounds familiar is most likely written by J.K., wonderful, amazing woman that she is.

Author's Note: I know, I know… I'm a failure at not updating. I apologize. I've just been trying to think of what to do with this next chapter, and how I want to continue this story… I'm not sure what I'm doing with this right now, so bear with me.

Chapter 10: Quidditch

Rebecca felt more confidence in herself as the year slowly changed into November. Word had gotten around of her being the defeater of the troll that had entered the castle, though she had never said a word to anyone else about it. She never mentioned it around her new friends; she didn't want to make Ron feel bad. The Slytherins watched her now with a wary eye, and Marcus Flint had nodded at her once or twice, but never anything more. Malfoy and his cronies were leaving her well alone, now that they understood the extent of her power.

Her time was spent with the three Gryffindors, mostly. They were helping Harry to prepare for his first Quidditch match, which just happened to be against Slytherin. Rebecca felt a bit of a nervous tension, and wondered from time to time where she should sit during the match. She tried to push the thought away, to save it for game day.

The day of the match had finally arrived, and early on Saturday morning, she awoke and went into the Entrance Hall to meet Ron and Hermione to pick a place in the stands so they could watch the match together. She felt a bit nervous, being the only Slytherin to ever dare to sit with Gryffindors during a Quidditch match. However, Ron and Hermione were keeping her thoughts occupied on a discussion about Snape.

"He took Harry's copy of Quidditch Through the Ages yesterday," Hermione quickly explained as they made their way out to the pitch. The air around them was practically frozen, or at least it felt like it. "When Harry went to get it back last night, well…" She looked to Ron.

"He went to the staff room, and Snape and Filch are in there together," Ron said quickly, his nose and ears a bit red from the cold. "Snape's leg is torn up, from what Harry told us, and Filch was giving him bandages."

"He said something about not being able to keep an eye on all the heads at once," Hermione finished slowly.

Rebecca's memory went straight back to when they had seen the Cerberus. Her eyes widened. "What d'you think this means?" she asked slowly.

Hermione gave Ron a worried look before answering. "We think Snape let the troll inside the castle, to make a diversion so he could get whatever the Cerberus is supposed to be hiding."

Rebecca paused a moment, thinking it over. She couldn't imagine why Snape would do such a thing.

"I don't think he'd do that," she said, firmly. She gave the others a look that dared them to challenge her.

"That's what I originally thought, too, Rebecca," Hermione said quickly. "But, you have to admit, it does seem a bit… strange."

Rebecca shrugged. "We don't have enough information, Hermione," she said. "I just don't see why Professor Snape would do such a thing."

Ron was giving her a sideways glance, a look that was uncomforting to Rebecca. She stayed silent until they had reached their place in the stands.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Rebecca was in the exact middle of the stands, between Ron and Hermione. She was trying her best not to think about how high they were off the ground, but it became extremely hard when a flock of birds flew by them, or perched about them in the stands.

There was also Neville, Seamus, and Dean up in the top row with them, and along with Ron and Hermione, they had all painted a large banner on one of the sheets that Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors. Hermione explained all of this to Rebecca very quickly, and although she admired the work, she couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't been invited to join in for the making of it. She tried her best not to think about it.

Soon the match was getting ready to start, with the two different teams walking out onto the field together. Rebecca watched at the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood, she was told, shook hands with Marcus Flint. She could tell that Madam Hooch was talking to the teams, but couldn't hear a word of what was being said. Then, the teams mounted their brooms, and she heard Hooch's whistle blow shrilly over the wind.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, rather attractive, too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. Rebecca couldn't help but laugh at the woman's expression.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson, and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle—that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger—sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—she's really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goals posts are ahead—come on, now Angelina—Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Rebecca felt a wave of excitement go through her as she cheered on the Gryffindors. Thankfully, she didn't think any of the Slytherins saw her now, but they would probably ask her whereabouts later.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Everyone on the top row had to squeeze together to give Hagrid rnough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck. "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outa trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Rebecca felt nervous with Hagrid so near. The giant man had caught her off guard before, and now she wondered what he thought of her being there. So far, he hadn't seemed to notice her. But he was, clearly, a good friend of Hermione, Ron, and Harry's. She tried to focus on the game, but she felt very squished in her current position.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Rebecca watched as Harry dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch—all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs, Rebecca saw. But she also caught a glimpse of green and silver streaking toward him. She stood just as Marcus Flint purposefully blocked Harry, making the smaller boy run into him with a loud WHAM!

Gryffindors roared with rage as Rebecca stared, wide-eyed, at what had just happened. Harry looked like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. She watched as Flint soared off, a triumphant grin on his face. She scowled at him.

"Send him off, red! Red card!" Dean Thomas was yelling.

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They ought change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outa the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

"Jordan, I'm warning you—"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue to play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Rebecca was watching Harry carefully, also trying to keep an eye on Flint. She saw him dodge a Bludger that was dangerously close to his head, when his broom gave a sudden, violent lurch. She gasped, tugging on Hermione's cloak and pointing at Harry as the lurching continued.

"What's happening to his broom?" she asked anxiously.

Harry's broom was now zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

"I don't know!" Hermione said, getting Ron's attention now.

"Slytherin in possession—Flint with the Quaffle—passes Spinnet—passed Bell—hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose—only joking, Professor—Slytherin score—oh no…"

The Slytherins were cheering. Harry's broom was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. Hagrid was staring at him intently through his binoculars.

"He can't have lost control of his broom," Hagrid was muttering.

Harry's broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. The broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with broomstick except powerful Dark magic—no kid could do that to a Numbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped. "Snape—look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Rebecca watched him, then took them from him after a few moments. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something—jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

Rebecca lowered the binoculars, staring where Snape was across the crowd. He didn't look remotely angry, or like he was trying to hurt anyone. His features were desperate, his hands clasped tightly together in his lap.

"What should we do?" Ron asked.

"Leave it to me."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione disappeared. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good—every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron whispered desperately.

Rebecca was watching the stand across the way, then tore the binoculars back from Ron's grasp. Hermione had knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front, without even stopping to apologize. She then made Snape's robes catch into bright blue flames.

It took the Potions Master a moment to realize he was on fire. Rebecca watched as he stood up suddenly, then the fire was gone just as it had appeared. She turned the binoculars back up to Harry, and saw that he was now able to clamber back onto his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding towards the ground when the crowd saw him clasp his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick—he hit the field on all fours—coughed, and something gold fell into his hands.

"He's got the Snitch!" Rebecca called, still watching him through the binoculars.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it!" she heard Flint howling before the crowd erupted into a thunderous roar, at least from the Gryffindor's side.

Flint's yelling made no difference—Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results—Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

Just minutes later, Rebecca was following Hermione, Ron, Hagrid, and Harry back to Hagrid's hut, where the giant man was making Harry a strong batch of tea.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do something' like that?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked to one another, wondering what to tell him. Rebecca sat, shaking her head. Snape had not been the one to curse Harry's broomstick, she had decided firmly.

"I found out something about him," Harry told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?" Rebecca asked. It was the first time she had said something in Hagrid's presence.

"Yeah—he's mine—bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year—I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"No he's not," Rebecca finally said, her brows furrowed in anger. "Whatever it is, Snape wouldn't steal it. He's got no reason to! He didn't curse Harry's broomstick, either."

"Exactly," said Hagrid, giving Rebecca a look. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione, giving Rebecca a harsh look. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now listen to me, all four of yeh— yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel—"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicholas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

Rebecca rushed from Hagrid's hut in a fury, not wanting to be around the three Gryffindors anymore. It was though they were out to get Snape, when they had very little proof indeed that he had done anything wrong. She knew she wouldn't be able to stay mad at them for very long—they were, after all, the only friends she had at the school—but she just couldn't stand being around them any longer.

Her face was flushed when she growled the password to the common room. When she entered, she felt the weight of the silence settle over her, and looked up. She was facing most of the Quidditch team, all of whom were staring at her, especially Marcus Flint. He approached her, and Rebecca groped for her wand.

"I heard that you're friends with Potter," Marcus said to her. "That's why you helped save that other little Mudblood from the troll on Halloween."

"Her name's Hermione," Rebecca said through clenched teeth.

Flint raised an eyebrow. "Where are your defenses?" he asked, his tone mocking.

Her hand clenched visibly around her wand, which rested in the inside pocket of her robes. She waited to see what Flint was going to do.

"You cheered on the Gryffindors today," Flint said, his gravelly voice very quiet. "That was a bad choice on your part. You'll never get anywhere in this house if you hang round the likes of them. You had just gotten my respect when Professor Snape told me you'd defeated that troll on your own."

"He told you that?" Rebecca asked, her brows furrowed with her being on-edge, and her confusion.

"He asked me to help spread it around, yeah," Flint said with a shrug of his shoulders. "He didn't want another episode that happened in the Great Hall to happen again, if you catch my drift. He thought it might help you." He paused a moment, looking her over. "I just thought I'd let you know that your chances were lost as soon as you sat with the Gryffindors during our Quidditch match."

"You would've lost anyway," Rebecca said quietly. "Your tactics were terrible and underhanded, at best."

Flint scowled. "Like you know anything about Quidditch, Mudblood," he growled, turning and leaving her grasping her wand.

Rebecca thought it best that she make her way to her dormitory, where at least the girls would leave her be. She thought it best, now, if she started carrying Ambrose around with her instead of leaving him in his cage all day on her bed in the dormitory. She didn't know what she would do if anything happened to him.