SERIES The Time of a Sorcerer
TITLE Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Skill
CHAPTER 11 Quidditch

Harry didn't get a lot of sleep the night before his first match, but it wasn't pre-game nerves this time. He jerked awake after seeing a nightmare of the flaming ruins that once was his home. Panting, he stared up at the canopy over his silenced bed and waited for his pulse to stop racing. He wearily dragged himself down to the common room and worked on his latest letter to Ms. Figg.

When the November sun was finally visible over the mountains, Harry's nerves were settled from the nightmare. He was surprised to notice a mounting excitement as he ate a light breakfast, ignoring the concerns and jeers from his classmates.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

"You still have to eat!"

Oliver's pre-game pep-talk confused the hell out of Harry, who wanted nothing more but to try and survive the game, the nervousness of his teammates wasn't helping his nerves at all. The twins nudged him as they left the locker rooms and headed out to the pitch, hoping that his knees wouldn't give way.

"Don't worry, Harrikins –"

"—we'll keep the Bludgers off you--"

"-though we know you can dodge them-"

"-as you were so apt to demonstrate—"

"From our last practice."

"We're veering from the topic oh brother of mine."

"Er, right. Anyway, we got your back—"

"So don't worry about it."

Harry smiled and waved to Ron and Hermione when he spotted them in the stands. Their home-made banner flashed in the sun, changing colours wildly. They waved back excitedly and Harry felt his heart soar. It was a great day to be flying. The thing that was better what he felt when he left the Dursley's.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," Madame Hooch said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth-year, who smirked nastily.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

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, and what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

"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, Slytherin 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 Gryffindor 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 Slytherin - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, 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'd really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goalposts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let out his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch.

Once he caught sight of a flash of gold but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasley's wrist watches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannon ball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously towards Marcus Flint.

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

"GO HARRY!" yelled James, springing up.

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.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downwards after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled towards the Snitch - all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in mid-air to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs - he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - he put on an extra spurt of speed - WHAM!

A roar of rage from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose and Harry's broom span off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor.

But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

"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 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 play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger which went spinning dangerously past his head that it happened.

His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he though he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off.

But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back towards the Gryffindor goalposts; he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time out - and then he realized that the broom was completely out of his control.

He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zig-zagging through the air and every now and then making violent swishing movements which almost unseated him.

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 - Slytherin score - oh no..."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It 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. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's 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?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking, as he overheard Ron. "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 Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, grey-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 Harry and was muttering non-stop under his breath.

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

"What should we do?" Ron said.

"Leave it to me."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned his binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd were on their feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely on to on 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 muttered desperately, as he swivelled the binoculars towards Snape, his gazed stopeed for a moment on Quirrell, 'What the bloody hell is Professor Quirrell doing?' Ron thought.

Hermione fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front and ignited the tip of her wand shooting a flame at Snape, before disappearing.

Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

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.

Harry went with speed as herushed his broom at Higgs, and slammed into the Slytherin Seeker. Up ahead the snitch decided to take a dive and plummeted towards the pitch, urging the Seekers to follow.

It stopped two feet from the ground, and Higgs pulled away at ten.

ing towards the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the pitch on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference - Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the result - Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a strong cup of 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."

"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?"

"I don't know," he told Hagrid. "But he is definitely someone who I want to feed to that three headed dog on the third corridor."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

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

"That thing has a name?" Asked Hermione.

"O' course he's got a name, he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the stone-"

"What Stone?" said Harry eagerly.

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

"I bet that Snape's going to try 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 Harry?" 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 Harry'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 Harry. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.