A.N. Sorry its late I.m Drunk but it doesnt mean I dont love you I just need the drink ooo toast.

Chapter 11

As November punched its way to the front of the calendar, the weather turned bitterly cold. The mountains around the school became gray and the lake iced over. Every morning the ground was covered in a couple of feet of snow. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows poorly writing his name in the snow. His urine cut through the frost like acid through a guys face.

The Quidditch season had sadly begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of no training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would still be in last place in the house championship. Gryffindors were not very smart.

The news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse; the looks of pity or people asking him what the fuck Quidditch is? He still had no idea.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed since Harry had accidentally murdered a mountain troll, and she was much more mellow. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the two of them and Neville were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she 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 while Harry wondered why the hell they weren't inside, when Snape stumbled across the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping and could smell the booze from here. Harry, Neville, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed, which was a sound bet since students starting fires is rarely allowed anywhere. Unfortunately, they caught Snape's eye. He limped over stumbling into several pillars and falling over twice. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to start some shit anyway.

"Why are there two of you, Potter?" Harry showed him his middle finger. "If I could figure out which of you are real I would punish you," said Snape. "Fuck it. Five points from Gryffindor."

"Well isn't he a peach," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"I don't know, but from the stench of whiskey I can only guess." said Neville trying to remember why they were outside.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry's Charms homework for him. Though he got the right answers anyways, it was really basic stuff, she would still ask to read through it.

Harry felt bored. He turned to Neville who had managed to snag the one good bean bags in the tower. "Did you get your Remembrall back Nev?" Neville looked quite comfortable and ignored the looks of jealousy. "No Snape took it and left it in the staff room. I would go get it but frankly he scares me." Harry shook his head. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Snape is a pussycat. Getting up, he told Neville and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it back.

"Make sure no one takes my seat." He called as he left knowing it was an impossible task. Everyone went nuts everytime he left a seat.

He made his way down to the staff room and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the Remembrall in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside - and a horrible scene m et his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone with the exception of Professor Sarcasmo. Snape was holding his robes above his bent over waist. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "I got this one in Danang," Snape said, pointing at a tattoo, positioned directly in the middle of the 'tramp stamp' area.

Harry stood motionless, disgusted and tried to shut his brain down, but he was quickly noticed.

"POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he shuffled to face Harry. "I just wondered if I could have Neville's Remembrall back and some bleach for my eyes."

"You have 3 second to get out before I start throwing lethal spells."

Harry left, before Snape could shuffle at him. He sprinted back upstairs. "Did you get it?" Neville asked as Harry walked past them toward the showers. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen and started the hot water in the shower. Hoping beyond hope he would feel clean. Neville and Hermione were silent they didn't know what to say to make him feel better or take off his clothes.

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind. he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours but the expression on Snape's bare ass when Harry had entered the room wasn't easy to forget.

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 missing a day of school, sure they had to endure a Quidditch match, still no school.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry. "

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team." "Thanks, asshole," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages, idly wondering why he was putting on so much sauce, at this point all he would be tasting would be the ketchup not the sausages.

By eleven o'clock the school seemed to be forced 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.

Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Ron had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was not good at drawing, had tried to draw a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors. It was fairly embarrassing.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green). They used to do shirts versus skins but you know.

Wood cleared his throat for silence. "Okay, bro's," he said. "And women, because apparently we still don't get our own changing rooms." said Chaser Angelina Johnson. "I don't hear anyone complaining," said Fred Weasley. "I'm complaining!" She replied. "And broettes." Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Woah chill out, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I feel it. Now let us drink a cold one in the name of Brosiden." They all stared at him "NOW!" He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

McGonagall leaned into the locker room in time to see all the school aged kids with open beer. Shaking it off due to remembering the sacred ritual of Brosiden, she added her own encouragement "I just wanted to tell you all. Good Luck, we are all counting on you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to mild 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. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had juiced considering his arms were ripping through his uniform. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt so embarrassed, though this wasn't the first time he had fans holding banners, they usually said 'Marry me Harrietta' though.

"Mount your brooms, please." Harry clambered on 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 by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor, what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too"

"JORDAN! KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS I'VE TOLD YOU ABOUT THIS BEFORE."

McGonagall had warned Lee about this before though he usually waved it off as meaning something else the fact he stood making thrusting motions gave him away.

Harry still unsure what he was supposed to be doing watched the game closely while listening to Lee's commentary. Angelina sped up the flank passing to another team member Alicia Spinnet then back and forth in rapid succession.

As the pair approached the Slytherin keeper Harry noted he didn't seem to be paying attention hell he didn't even seem to be awake. Slytherin Bletchley is narcoleptic so he is constantly punished for falling asleep in class.

Alicia span in place launching the quaffle high in the air above the Slytherin goals, Angelina climbed her broom and leapt into the air, a spiral of flames followed the chaser into the air with a final flaming spin her foot hit the ball distorting its shape with raw power. With a scream of 'FIRE TORNADO' the quaffle shot like a small flaming meteor towards the sleeping Slytherin keeper. And so it was from her flaming boot to his barely conscious face the first goal was scored in this game.

Polite applause filled the arena while the kids from non magical families sat in awe unsure of what happened.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Oh god what's that smell, hey Hagrid!"

Hermione moved to give Hagrid enough space to join them and sit downwind.

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

"Nope," said Neville. "Harry has just been floating there loudly yelling." If he had listened closely he could have probably made out the words 'the' 'fuck' and 'happened'.

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's something'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry. Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do and whether all wizards and witches could do that, this was when he remembered his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood told him between deadlifts. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be." Harry had asked what a 'snitch' was but was not answered because wood accidentally deuced.

"A goal has been scored you know what that means people!" Lee called over the stadium "WHEEL. OF. QUIDDITCH!" no sooner had he finished did a giant wheel poof into existence with 16 different section on the outside and ten on the inside. Two glowing balls bounced around the separate parts one stopping on the number 40 and the other being two fists in a flame.

Lee seemed really into it "Oh lordy lordy loo we got ourselves a HEAT BATTLE!" he screamed to the crowds tepid response. A floating circular platform shimmered into view and immediately a player from each team appeared.

It was Slytherin beater Lucian Bole who made the first move charging forward, he swung his bat with reckless abandon trying to hit the Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell, who ducked and dived out of the way. After a large swing Katie dove in with two punches to Bole's face then a mule kick sending him rolling to the other side of the platform. Her entire form seemed to glow in red flaming energy.

"Christ is she okay it looks like she is on fire!" Harry said worried as he floated down to the Weasley twins watching the fight. Fred or George but most definitely not Eric laughed and waved him off "Nah Katie's fine Harry, you see when in combat repeated hits generate heat and when it reaches a certain level it shows like that and you can perform heat moves." He explained. Harry stared for a second before adding "Only in Quidditch right?" Both twins looked at Harry like they were not expecting that question "Sure."

Katie sped forward and used both hands to clap Boles ears, then in a flash with both hands gripping his head she leapt back carrying him with her as she fell to one knee the other raised. The crowd witnessed on the jumbotron Boles eyes move from dazed to confusion, then to terror then to resignation then back to terror then just hopped between those two for a bit then disappear to the back of his head as his face smashed into the Gryffindors knee and fly backwards in a spray of gore.

"What a wonderful heat move by Bell Gryffindor earns the extra 40 points." Lee shouted as both players yelled in celebration Katie for getting the points and Bole for still being alive.

When the normal game part, I guess, resumed Harry returned to his previous game plan staying the fuck out of the way.

"And they are off again, Gryffindor 50 Slytherin 0, and snake chaser Pucey has the ball he passed one, he passed two and can I please get some wings up here."

Chaser Adrien Pucey, whose only crime was owning up to a bad fart in class, threw the quaffle into the air before launching himself with a single spin. Using the momentum of the spin his foot burst into a sickly green aura and smashed into the falling ball, with a yell of 'Snake Shot!' the quaffle enveloped in green might spiraled towards a grinning Wood.

"Naw Bro." He taunted before his body burst into a flaming orange aura of pure bro energy. From the crackling force a large grim shape emerged, looking like an orange ogre (or a brogre maybe, I think I am pushing the bro thing too much, what do you think? Answers on a postcard) wearing a side turned baseball cap and a letterman jacket. As if mimicking Olivers movements the thing moved back one of its hands then threw it forward. With a scream of 'BROJIN THE HAND' and the force of a million fistbumps the palm met the spiralling ball bringing it to a complete stop.

Harry floated back down to one of the twins. "Can you tell me what the fuck that was?" Forge or Gred but definately not gric or fric answered "Ah you see Harry when a person is filled with football, I mean, competitive spirit they can pull of hidden techniques as you can see they take forms based on the user."

Harry stared "That sounds dumb."

"Is That the Snitch?" Came Lees yell over the snoring of the crowd. "You're up Harry" the twin said point to the small gold glint flashing near the floor. Harry shrugged and dove after it followed closely by the Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs. Propelling several hundred miles per hour towards the hard ground, Harry realised he was eleven years old and would most likely die if he kept going as it was only his second time flying. The crowd laughed as Harry pulled out of the dive. It was most likely due to Higgs flapping his arms like a chicken while turning towards Harry that he didn't realise he should have pulled up himself.

"Oooo and Higgs is a pancake, what a feint by Potter pretending to chicken out." The crowd mildly cheered and Harry shrugged. Once Higgs had regained consciousness the game resumed.

Harry returned to his place above the match watching the ball bounce back and forth. He heard a noise and looked to see a glowing orb floating at the end of his broom "The hell is that?" He asked someone zooming past him "Just say a players names name." "Higgs?" Harry told the orb and immediately it shot off. Seconds later he heard a scream and watched the flaming wreckage of Higgs fall past him into a giant pile of unwashed clothes.

Once again Lee's voice called over the stadium "We would again like to thank Hagrid for supplying his dirty underwear for this match. Hagrid bowed to the mild applause and bashfully added "Well Filch helped too you know."

Harry watched several bonus rounds including an armwrestling competition a quiz round and another heat battle, it was when he was once again wondering what he should do it happened his broom lurched.

Harry easily maintained his balance but he was a little off putting, then it came again and again in greater and greater lurches.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "He should know that he can't be doing that without a cowboy hat. Look at him go though." Harry was used to this the pagents they almost always had a mechanical bull round.

"Did something happen before he went up today?" 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, taking a quick look up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd. "What are you doing?" groaned Neville.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape look." Neville grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was sporting a shit eating grin. "He's enjoying this way too much" said Hermione. "What should we do?"

"Leave it to me." Came the most hated voice in Gryffindor.

Before anyone could say another word, Ron had disappeared. Hermione turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer, especially with these new and strange sensations. "You go Harry," Hermione muttered desperately.

Ron had fought his way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; he stopped deliberately to knock Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, he crouched down, pulled out his wand, and then pulled out the jar he had stolen from Hermione. Jumping into the air raising the jar he smashed it into the head of everyone's third most hated professor.

At first Snape leapt up in pain after all having a glass jar smashed on your head will cause pain and when his eyes snapped to the red headed bastard laughing he immediately grabbed him around the throat and started choking. That's when the blue flames reached grease level one.

Seeing their second most hated colleague on fire choking a student the rest of the faculty decided to do what they normally would, hose him down. Now two things went wrong first adding water to a grease fire second adding an explosion to a constant source of methane (Ron's Ass). The entire staff area was enveloped in a large rancid explosion sending bodies in multiple directions.

Maybe it was the lack of breakfast in the morning, maybe it was the stress of being thrown into a sport you have no idea about in front of an entire school without knowing the rules, or maybe it was the smoldering form of your potions professor flying past you tramp stamp in full display ( he would not realise until later that the nude woman on his tat is his own mother) but Harry felt something bubble up inside him he had to let out.

"He looks like he's about to throw up." Hagrid added staring at his best friend. Hagrid was wrong, Harry had in fact started to throw up. And so like a horrible Catherine wheel he spun through the air spewing into the wind after being thrown from his broom.

There is a rule in Quidditch that if a match lasts longer than 5 minutes they start increasing the number of bludgers to the game, mostly to punish the players. The sirens rang and the commentator Lee yelled "MULTI BALL MULTI BALL!" as bludger after bludger shot forth and the beater desperately hit them away.

The stand holding the Ravenclaw students collapsed onto Hagrids laundry pile as Harry landed atop of them.

"He may be down oh wait WAIT HE HAS THE SNITCH POTTER HAS THE SNITCH." The crowd burst into mild applause and the results were Gryffindor 471 Slytherin 0. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being brought back to the living world in Hagrid's hut, with Neville and Hermione.

"It was crazy," Nevile was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was on fire throttling Ron you couldn't take your eyes off of it. "

Harry sat up groaning "I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He had a tattoo of some hot red head above his mangled leg. It looked like a big fuck off dog maulled him."

Hagrid dropped the teapot. "How do you know about Fluffy?" he said. "Fluffy?"

"Yeah bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub last' year I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the"

"Exsqueeze me you own that fucking monstrocity?" said Harry eagerly.

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

"But it's in a school of literally hundreds of children"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don't know why Dumbledore thought this was a good idea! Now, listen to me, you're meddling in things that don't concern you. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, and you forget what it's guarding, that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."

"Who the fuck is Nicolas Flamel?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.