Chapter 9

The next Saturday was the first Quidditch game of the season.

The entire first-year Slytherin cohort packed into the stands together. Even Malfoy and Harry's rivalry was set aside for the sake of cheering Slytherin House.

They were all decked out in green and silver, and one of the fifth years came around and taught them a charm that sprayed green and silver confetti from their wands. This almost instantly resulted in a game that involved spraying confetti in each other's hair. Malfoy was particularly dismayed when Greengrass dumped a load of it directly onto his perfectly slicked back blond head.

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was commentating. He announced the Slytherin team— "Flint, Pucey, Wright, Higgs, Bletchley, Derrick, and Bole!"—to loud cheers from the Slytherin section with mingled support from Ravenclaw, and the Gryffindor team— "Wood, Spinnet, Bell, Johnson, Weasley, Weasley, and Potter!"—to even louder cheers from all the other students. Harry rolled his eyes at the favoritism and lost himself watching the game.

The teams were neck and neck for ages. Flint fouled Luke in a collision that Harry was pleased to think would probably leave his brother bruised. Spinnet nailed the penalty shot, unfortunately. The Gryffindor Chasers were a machine, and their Keeper was a maniac, and the Weasley twins weren't called the "terrible twins" or "Weasley terrors" around the Slytherin common room for nothing. And then there was Luke, who was clearly a natural on a broom even if he did look shockingly small compared to Terence Higgs.

And because apparently every aspect of Luke Potter's life just had to be as dramatic as possible, someone started hexing his broom. "Someone" being Professor Quirrell. Harry aimed his binoculars at the teacher section as soon as Lukes' broom went bonkers, assuming correctly that only an adult killed in the Dark Arts would be able to jinx a well-warded high-end broom. Sure enough, there was Quirrell, maintaining eye contact and muttering under his breath—but Snape, too.

Harry had his wand out ready to do something drastic when he noticed Hermione worming her way into the space beneath the stands.

"Merlin," he muttered, "she's too clever for her own good."

Hermione rushed along—knocked Quirrell headfirst into the teachers in front of him—Harry checked on Luke, whose broom had abruptly stopped its bucking—back in the teachers' section, Hermione set fire to Snape's robes and disappeared into the back of the raised viewing section.

Luke spat out the Snitch and waved it about in the air and the match dissolved into chaos.

Theo stared at Luke, who was ignoring the post-match chaos and focusing his binoculars on the teacher section. "What just happened?" he said.

Harry lowered the binoculars and looked at Theo. "Quirrell just tried to kill Luke Potter. Hermione set Snape on fire and saved Lukes' life."

The boy blinked.

"Come on," Harry said suddenly, noticing that Hermione and Neville were following Luke, Weasley, and Finnegan off the pitch. "I'm pretty sure they're all convinced Snape is a would-be murderer, we need to set them straight."

The Slytherins easily tracked their Gryffindor allies and enemies to the gamekeeper's hut. Harry had been down here once for an extremely awkward tea that he'd rather not repeat and hadn't been invited back. This time, he didn't even knock, just paused long enough to identify the voice inside as Hermione's and pushed the door open.

Luke was on his feet in an instant. "You slimy snake—"

Then he registered Theo, who was looking around with glorious contempt,

Harry could see Lukes' anger ratcheting up a few notches into "speechless with rage" territory.

"I'm going to guess you're mad because you think my Head of House just tried to kill you," he said, trying to emulate Theo's composure.

"How'd you know that?" Finnegan demanded. "Were you in on it?"

"Really?" Harry sighed. "Fratricide? Come on, Finnegan, it's not as if Slytherin has nightly meetings where we plot Gryffindors' untimely deaths."

"Believe it or not, we actually have more important things to do than obsess over you," Theo said. "Like study, which most of your lot could stand to try."

Hagrid looked alarmed at the rising tensions. "Hey, let's—let's keep it civil, all righ'?"

"Of course," Harry said pleasantly. That, he was good at—acting pleasant when he didn't feel it at all.

"Harry, Theo, we—we don't just think Snape tried to kill Luke," Hermione said. "I saw him—he was holding eye contact and casting nonstop, all the marks of jinxing a broom—"

"I know," Harry said. He paused to smirk at Luke. "But, of course, what you didn't notice is that Professor Quirrell was also holding eye contact and muttering spells."

"That only tells us one of them was jinxing the broom and the other was casting a counterjinx," Hermione argued.

Harry nodded. "Exactly. Which is why, as soon as you knocked Quirrell face-first into Professor Sprout in your mad dash for Snape, I checked on Luke. His broom was fine, after Quirrell's concentration was broken and before you sidetracked Snape by setting him on fire."

"Hold up," Finnegan said. "Hermione, how come you're going by first names with Nott?"

"How come you get to control who her friends are?" Theo retorted.

Neville blinked; apparently either the freedom to choose your friends was a foreign concept or he was surprised at Theo coming to Hermione's defense. Or both. Harry suspected both.

Finnegan flushed a dull crimson that reminded Harry unpleasantly of his uncle. "Because you lot are—are nasty, that's why—"

"Questions? No? I'll be going, then." Harry said snidly

"Wait," Luke said suddenly. "You—Harry, Snape was out skulking around on Halloween. We think he was going after whatever—whatever's hidden in the third floor corridor."

"You mean beneath the Cerberus?" Theo said.

Luke shot to his feet. "You know about this?"

"Well, it was an educated guess," Theo said. "Thanks for the confirmation."

Harry was watching Hermione and Neville. "You know something else, too," he said. "That you're hiding."

"Hagrid… may have let slip that it has something to do with Nicholas Flamel," Hermione admitted.

Harry thought back to all his lessons with a smile

Hagrid leaned forward, suddenly angry. Harry flinched back a step and reflexively dropped a blank mask over his face. The room felt half as small as it had a moment before and he had to fight the urge to bolt. He stared resolutely forward and ignored the concerned looks he was getting from Theo. "You were supposed'ta forget abou' tha'!" Hagrid said.

"Sorry," Hermione said, not looking very sorry.

"I've heard enough," Harry said, then looked at Luke. "I hope it's clear that as a first year, you have no business going near whatever's going on in the third floor corridor. Or interfering with the plans laid by people loads older and smarter than you. Or just smarter. Meaning don't mess with myplans, either. Later, Hermione, Neville.

Getting out of the hut was an enormous relief.

He and Theo were halfway up to the castle when Theo coughed and said, "I'm guessing you'd prefer I not tell them Nicholas Flamel is the creator of the Sorcerer's Stone," he said.

Harry choked.

Theo laughed. "There's that Slytherin discretion."

(that's my next chapter sorry it took so long school was getting hard but now I'm Out for vacation so I can right more)