Minerva McGonagall was not one to worry, but even if she did, she kept it to herself. She'd seen enough in her thirty years as a Hogwarts professor to fill books. However, she was worried today, outwardly so. She paced around her classroom, waiting for the third year students.

She'd been expecting the worst when Neville Longbottom, one of her Gryffindors, had told her that Hermione Granger was in the bathroom and didn't know about the troll. Rushing to find the girl with a limping Snape at her heels (must've been something to do with the stone; she was too tired to care), she was too preoccupied to notice the two, small green-and-black blurs that rushed past them.

The sight inside the bathroom was gory, to say the least. A large puddle of blood was leaking out onto the floor, and she'd arrived just in time to see the troll shudder its last breath. Severus angrily rushed over to Granger, about to scold her for her stupidity, when something stopped him.

Granger hadn't done this. She was crying about how she hadn't meant for anyone to save her, or for the troll to die. Severus took her wand and performed "Prior Incantato" on it, showing that the last spell used was the green sparks spell for Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Severus turned to Hermione in suspicion. "If you didn't do this, then who did?"

Hermione sputtered, then looked resigned. "Two students, but I can't tell you their names, sir. I'm so sorry. They saved me and I-I can't get them in trouble."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for reckless behavior. This castle is a large place, Ms. Granger, and it can be dangerous to go off on your own. Incidents such as this will not be tolerated in the future." Snape turned and walked out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. Hermione bowed her head.

Minerva allowed herself a barely-there smile. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for loyalty and bravery in a dire situation."

"B-but I wasn't brave, Professor McGonagall." Hermione was openly crying, her eyes red and her cheeks streaked with tears.

"You didn't crack while being interrogated by Professor Snape, did you? Now that would be something considered brave by most."

Hermione looked up at her in shock, then a sad smile passed over her face.

"Thank you, Professor."

"It's nothing, Ms. Granger. For the future, however, I implore you not to make the same mistake."

"I won't, ma'am. I promise."

Hermione Granger had a lot of potential, Minerva thought. She was one of few students at the top of her class, and the professor had a feeling that her future would be bright, extremely so.


The first Quidditch match of the season was also the one featuring the most animosity between houses. Gryffindor and Slytherin would be playing each other. No one (well, except for Terrence Higgs, Snape, Flint, and Tom) knew that Harry was Slytherin's new seeker, especially because Flint had forced him to practice in the middle of the night, separately from everyone else. "You're our secret weapon," he'd say happily to a completely exhausted Harry.

Tom wasn't overly keen on the idea of going to a social event such as a Quidditch game, especially where he wouldn't even be participating and would instead by waiting by the sidelines of the pitch. He finally agreed to go when Harry told him that he could bring a book to read, though Harry thought that he had perhaps been planning on going anyway and just didn't want to admit it.

Harry changed into the emerald green Quidditch robes he'd found on his bed one evening. It fit him perfectly, and after a second, he realized that it must've been magic β€” some sort of tailoring charm.

He walked to the pitch, then entered the athletics lavatory and locker room where the teams met before matches. As he entered, he heard five simultaneous gasps.

"Potter? A measly first-year?" one of the beaters, Bole, exclaimed.

"He's supposed to be our secret weapon?" drawled the other beater, Derrick.

"You'll see," Flint grumbled. When one of the Chasers scoffed, he asked "Who's the captain here?" in a booming voice, which quickly quieted the team.

"Now, Potter, just find the Snitch. Don't worry about anyone else on the field. Their Seeker's hardly worth a Knut. Cormac McLaggen β€” just some second year desperate for a spot on the team."

"If you say so," Harry said warily. They headed out onto the field, with Harry relishing the nice weight of his Nimbus 2000 in his hand. Flint went to face-off with the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood, who was also their Keeper.

"I expect a clean, fair game," Madam Hooch said with a pointed glance at the Slytherin team. Flint and Wood reluctantly shook hands, glaring at each other. A shrill blow of Hooch's whistle meant that the game had begun.

Harry quickly ascended high above the pitch. The people below now looked like little more than blurs. Perhaps he should get his glasses prescription checked, he thought offhandedly. The Slytherin stands were filled with green, the Ravenclaw stands with blue, and so on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw McLaggen rise up beside him.

"I suppose I have to thank you," he started, his eyes glinting maliciously. "If you had been in Gryffindor, I never would have had this position."

"So you're admitting that you're a worse Seeker than I am," Harry finally said, his eyes still searching for the Snitch.

McLaggen sputtered, then flew off. Getting rid of him was easier than Harry had thought it would be. Absentmindedly, Harry heard Lee Jordan, the announcer, call out a few Gryffindor goals, along with a foul on Gryffindor. Leave it to Slytherins to keep up with the stereotypes they were subject to.

"And Katie Bell makes the penalty shot after nearly falling from her broom. But I'm sure it was an accident on the Slytherin team's parβ€”"

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall scolded over the intercom. Harry snickered to himself.

Harry's eyes landed on the Snitch, which was close to the Hufflepuff stands in midair. He swept toward it, only for his broom to suddenly lurch. It started bucking uncontrollably, and slowly the attention of the Hogwarts students became focused on him.

The broom dipped lower and lower, thrashing until Harry was holding on by just one hand. The Snitch was now within an arm's reach, but he couldn't stay still for long enough to grab it.

"It looks like the Slytherin Seeker, who was an unexpected addition to the team this year, being only a first-year, has lost control of his broom," Lee Jordan announced. His tone had become more serious. "The score stands at 90-10 with Gryffindor in the lead."

Suddenly, Harry found himself falling to the ground as his broom jerked one more time. He clenched his eyes shut, expecting the worst, but willing his fall to be stopped at the same time. Surprisingly, he felt his momentum slow, and he hovered for a second before falling to the ground, exhausted. Gradually, his knuckles regained their coloration and the Snitch fell from his hand onto the ground.

There was a moment of confusion, then the Slytherin stands erupted in cheers. The other members of the team flew down to pat him on the back.

"Well, er, it looks like Slytherin has won 160-90. Unexpected, really, but that all could've been a devious stunt β€” you know it's in their nature."

"JORDAN!" The microphone signal cut off abruptly.

"Well done, Potter. It was pretty clever of you to fake a jinxed broom," Pucey, the Keeper, begrudgingly said.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Harry admitted. "Someone else was doing that."

Before long, a path had cleared among the students who had flooded the field. It turned out to be Snape, a furious scowl on his face. "Let me see your broom, Potter," he snapped. He took out his wand and cast a few spells, then shook his head.

"A Confundus Charm, performed directly on the broom," he finally said. "I'll handle this, Potter." Snape looked at Harry with a sneer, then walked off. The professor honestly was the most confusing person he'd met, other than Tom, of course.

Speaking of Tom, he was standing off to the side of the crowd, his book still in hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but obviously decided against it, giving Harry a knowing glance.

Once back in the castle, Harry changed and showered faster than he ever had before, eager to hear what Tom knew. He pulled open the other's bed hangings to a glaring Tom. "It was Quirrell," was all he said before whipping them shut again.