Ack, guys! I'm so sorry for not posting in, like, a hundred eons, but I've been super busy with schoolwork and stuff. I'll make sure to make this an extra-awesome chapter, okay?
. . .
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains behind the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows, defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.
The Quidditch season had begun.
On Saturday, Charlie would be playing in her first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move into second place in the House Championship. Hardly anyone had seen Charlie play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Charlie should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, (Ron was her immediate suspicion) and Charlie didn't know which was worse—people telling her she'd be brilliant or people telling her they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.
It was really lucky that Charlie now had Hermione as a friend. She didn't know she'd have gotten through all her homework without her, what with all the last minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do.
But, even though she was growing more and more nervous at her first game, the subject of her first Quidditch match couldn't be avoided, and Charlie welcomed any help she was offered.
Hermione had lent her "Quidditch Through the Ages", which turned out to be a very interesting read.
Charlie learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.
Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules, since Charlie and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it.
The day before Charlie's first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and Hermione had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar.
They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Charlie noticed at once that Snape was limping. Charlie, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed.
Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye.
He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.
"What's that you've got there, Miss Potter?"
It was "Quidditch Through the Ages". Charlie showed him, glowering a bit as she did.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."
"He's just made that rule up," Charlie muttered lividly as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"
"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.
The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Charlie, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Charlie and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.
Charlie felt restless and even a little angry. She wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back to take her mind of her nerves about tomorrow. Why should she be afraid of Snape?
Getting up from where she was slouching down on a fluffy armchair, she told Ron and Hermione she was going to ask Snape if she could have it back.
"Better you than me," they said together, but Charlie had an inkling that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.
She made her way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again. Nothing.
Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. She pushed the door ajar and peered inside—and a horrible scene met his eyes.
Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. Charlie gagged quietly, and her eyes suddenly spotted the redness of his (shudder, shudder) white leg.
One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.
"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"
Charlie tried to shut the door quietly, but —
"POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Charlie gulped nervously, but met his gaze with a defiant lift of her chin.
"I just wondered if I could have my book back."
"GET OUT! OUT!"
"Fine, Professor Snape- I know your leg might be quite ugly and mangled, but you're still pretty to me," She said sarcastically, and then darted away before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. She sprinted back upstairs.
"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Charlie joined them. Her face was extremely white. "What's the matter?"
In a low whisper, Charlie told them what she'd seen.
"You know what this means?" she finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him—he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"
Hermione's eyes were wide. "No — he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."
"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron, and Charlie secretly agreed, even though she wasn't as blunt as Ron to confess it out loud.
"I'm with Charlie. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"
Charlie went to bed with her head buzzing with the same question. Lavender was snoring loudly, but Charlie couldn't sleep. She tried to empty her mind — she needed to sleep, she had to, she had her first Quidditch match in a few hours – but the expression on Snape's face when Charlie had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget, and it wasn't because it was so scrunched-up and red and ugly.
The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.
"You've got to eat some breakfast."
"I don't want anything."
"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.
"I'm not hungry."
"Mate, if you're trying to starve yourself like Lavender, let me tell you that being a skeleton with flesh isn't all that attractive." Ron jerked his head over to Lavender, who was chewing her food in bite-sized pieces with a scrunched look on her face.
Charlie bit of the edge of a piece of toast.
She felt like a horrid mess. In an hour's time she'd be walking onto the field.
"Charlie, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."
"Thanks, Seamus," said Charlie, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages with a grateful smile.
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.
Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Charlie, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets 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. Charlie felt so grateful, tears blurred in her eyes. She blinked them away and tried to do deep breaths. Now wasn't the time to get emotional.
Meanwhile, in the locker room, Charlie and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).
Wood cleared his throat for silence. "Okay, men," he said.
"And women," chorused Chaser Angelina Johnson and Charlie at the same time, and they gave each other sheepish grins.
"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."
"The big one," said Fred Weasley, and for the billionth time Charlie's heart did a backflip when he spoke.
"The one we've all been waiting for," said George. Charlie wondered why she wasn't freaking out when she saw him, like Fred- they were completely identical; if she thought Fred was attractive, wasn't George, too? But he was more of a big brotherly attractive than a potential future husband attractive.
"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Charlie with an easy smile on his face that left her heart racing, "we were on the team last year."
"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."
He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."
"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
Charlie followed Fred (cue frantic, annoying heartbeat) and George out of the locker room and, hoping her knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.
Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.
"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Charlie snorted under her breath and mumbled, "Like that'll happen." Fred sent her a grin, and she blushed.
Charlie noticed that Madame Hooch seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Charlie thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. Her heart skipped. She felt braver.
"Mount your brooms, please."
Charlie mounted onto her Nimbus Two Thousand with a carefree swoop, like she rode on flying broomsticks every day- which she did, for the last few weeks at the very least. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. 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, and rather attractive, too —"
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry, Professor."
The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. Charlie took a liking to him instantly- the jokey comments made her feel a tad more courageous, and with the Potter for President banner fluttering in the cold, cheek-whipping wind, she felt optimism flood into her veins. Maybe, just maybe, the Gryffindors would win this thing.
"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 goal 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.
"Budge up there, move along."
"Hagrid!"
Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough 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. "Charlie hasn't had much to do yet."
"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck clad with wind-whipping long black hair that was Charlie.
Way up above them, Charlie was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of her and Wood's game plan.
"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."
When Angelina scored, Charlie had done a couple of loop-the loops to let off her exhilarated feelings.
Now she was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once she caught a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches.
And once a Bludger decided to come pelting her way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Charlie dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it, which didn't help Charlie's already-pounding heart as she stared after the shock of brilliant red hair.
"All right there, Charlie?" He had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasley's, and Chaser Bell, and speeds towards 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.
Charlie saw it. In a great rush of excitement she 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.
Charlie was way faster than Higgs—she could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead—she put on an extra spurt of speed—
WHAM!
"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.
Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!" If Charlie peered hard at the figure, she could see he was kind of cute. Stupid hormonal tween thoughts, she thought angrily to herself.
"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 oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Charlie outta 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 the quite cute Gryffindor Seeker- sorry, Professor, but it's my job to enforce the truth-, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
It was as Charlie dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past her head, that it happened. Her broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch.
For a terrifying split second, she thought she was going to fall. She gripped the broom tightly with both her hands and knees. She'd never felt anything like that, and terror flooded into her bones as she glanced uneasily at the ground beneath her.
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck her off, and she let out a small, mental scream.
Charlie tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goalposts - she had half a mind to ask Wood to call a time out and she realized that her broom was completely out of her control. She couldn't turn it. She couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated her.
Lee was still commentating.
"Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — Ah no…"
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Charlie's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying her slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
"Dunno what Charlie thinks she's doing," Hagrid mumbled.
He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say she'd lost control of her broom… but she can't have…"
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Charlie all over the stands. Herbroom had started to roll over and over, with her only just managing to hold on, and she couldn't help the small, horrified scream coming out of her mouth. Then the whole crowd gasped. Charlie's broom had given a wild jerk and Charlie swung off it. She was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand, and she willed all the power inside of her not to scream and thrash wildly around like shewanted in vain to do.
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked her?" Seamus whispered.
"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."
At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Charlie, 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. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Charlie, and was muttering nonstop under his breath.
"He's doing something — jinxing the broom," said Hermione.
"What should we do?"
"Leave it to me."
Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Charlie, his face uncharacteristically worried as he stared after his best friend. Charlie's broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for her to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Charlie safely onto one of their brooms, and in a hysterical second she had a mental image of Fred sweeping her to safety, and her clutching herself tight against him, and they would ride off into the sunset.
Mental facepalm.
Even though they tried their hardest to get her to the safety of their own broomsticks, it was no good- every time they got near her dangling figure, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath her, obviously hoping to catch her if she fell.
Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.
"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.
Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind her; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.
Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire.
A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row — Snape would never know what had happened. Charlie looked down and peered at the figure barely visible behind the stands- and almost fell off her broom, she was shaking with laughter so hard. Snape's robes were entirely on flames, and he was freaking out.
It was enough, though, for Charlie to clamber back onto her broomstick.
"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.
Charlie was racing toward the ground when the crowd saw her clap her hand to her mouth as though she was about to be sick— she hit the field on all fours — coughed — and something gold fell into her hand.
"I've got the Snitch!" she shouted triumphantly, waving it above her head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
"She didn't catch it, she nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Charlie 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.
Charlie heard none of this, though- not that she'd care even if she had.
She was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.
"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."
"And it wasn't because of my distractingly good looks?" Charlie asked sarcastically, and Hermione rolled her eyes at her.
"Very funny, Char." She glowered, and Charlie just smiled at her fretting friend. It was all right, she told Hermione mentally. I got the snitch, I'm not scarred for life, you don't have to worry about me.
"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
Charlie, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Charlie decided on the truth.
"I found out something about him," she told Hagrid, her black hair still sticking to her forehead as she brushed it away to reveal her large, glistening green orbs of eyes. "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?"
"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 Charlie eagerly.
"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."
"But Snape's trying to steal it."
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
"So why did he just try and kill Charlie?" cried Hermione. The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.
"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 Charlie's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three 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 an' Nicolas Flamel —"
"Aha!" said Charlie, pointing a triumphant yet accusing finger at Hagrid, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looked furious with himself.
So, there's the chapter! Once again, DO NOT TELL ME WHETHER I MADE SPELLING MISTAKES ON "HE" OR "HARRY", SINCE I DON'T REALLY CARE ANYMORE.
Love, hugs, and all that jazz,
Lyricalyrics