Chapter 14

Quidditch

It was less than twenty-four hours later when McGonagall accompanied Ron to Diagon Alley to meet his mother, Molly Weasley. When he returned, he was on cloud nine. He had a brand new wand from Ollivanders. It was made of willow, 14" long, and had a unicorn hair as a core. He was so pleased, his parents even bought him some brand new robes. McGonagall was forced to tell the story of what had happened, and Ron's involvement in the matter. Molly Weasley was shocked, pleased, and angry at her son all at the same time. In the end, McGonagall assured Molly Ron was doing well, his grades were some of the best in the class, and this was simply friends trying to help a fellow friend. Ron was smothered in mother hugs and kisses and sent off back to Hogwarts with McGonagall.

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around 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 beaver skin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news he was playing seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse - people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky Harry had Hermione helping him. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry learned there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul, and all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Since the troll incident, Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules and she was much easier to live with and hang around. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue flame which could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. He seemed in a foul mood. Harry, Ron, Neville, 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 changed course toward them. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside of the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape marched away.

"I hope he freezes in his dungeons," Ron muttered in support.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry, Neville and Ron's Charms homework. She would never let them copy ("How would you learn?"), but by asking her to read through it afterwards they got the right answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he act afraid of Snape? Getting up he told the others he was going to go ask Snape for his book back, no one wanted to go with him.

"Better you than me," Ron said, but Harry thought if he asked in front of other teachers Snape would have to give the book back to him. He was certain there was a reason he had gone through the effort to take it in the first place.

He made his way down to the staff room and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again.

The door was opened by Professor Sintra.

"Why, Harry, what brings you here?" she asked pleasantly.

"Nice to see you," he smiled at her. "I was looking for Professor Snap, actually."

"Well," she said moving aside, "please come in, he's right here."

Snape was sitting in an armchair and it appeared Sintra had been in the one next to him. It made Harry wonder if they had been talking. He decided to get to the point.

"I was wondering if I could have my book back, sir?" Harry asked Snape.

Snape looked around the room. He pulled his wand and cast a few spells. Harry noticed a picture, once moving, froze.

"Since you came looking for it before I could slip my note into it. I wanted to tell you, good luck on the game tomorrow, and to be sure to be careful, Mr. Potter," he finished, handing him the book.

"How are your meditation times going Harry?" Professor Sintra inquired.

"Fine," Harry told her. "I have had pretty good control. There's only been a time or two when things have gone wonky and the bracelet has had to help. There are times I've used wandless magic and it's been...okay. I couldn't undo it once, and Dumbledore had to walk me through it."

"So I've been told. Pretty impressive shield," she said.

"Pretty big troll," Harry countered.

They both smiled and Harry excused himself running back up to his room. The others were amazed he had returned with the book. Harry was pleased to see Snape act himself, and to talk with Sintra. It had been a while since he had seen her.

Harry went to bed with his head spinning, he couldn't sleep. He needed to sleep he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours - but seeing Snape and Sintra sitting together like that - it was putting other thoughts in his head.

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," wheeled 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, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

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 have been 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 Harry, they had painted a large banner on one 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 the paint flashed different colors.

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).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"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."

"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."

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 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. Harry noticed she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. 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 had friends. He felt braver.

"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 - 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.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find for Oliver Wood's team, 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 goals posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheer 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. "Harry 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 that was Harry.

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

"Keep out if 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 had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off 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 wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball 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 toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks to Bludgers, two Weasley's, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward 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.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he 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.

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 echoed from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint had clocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun 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 goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stand Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"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 Harry 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 am 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 aways, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinnin dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like this.

It happened again. It was as though the broon was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decided to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts - he had half a mind to ask Wood to call a time-out - and then he realized his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging 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 Slytherin were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom … but he can't have …"

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom was starting 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?" 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 Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape and Quirrell - look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape and Quirrell were in the middle of the stands opposite them. They both had their eyes on Harry and were muttering nonstop under their breath.

"One of them is 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 Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one 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. Harry was trying to hold on. He was sure he could make it to one of the twins if needed, but he did NOT want to do wandless magic in front of literally the ENTIRE school.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where they teachers were, and was now racing along the row behind Snape. She knocked 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 hot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into the little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row - Snape would never know what had happened.

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

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been hiding his face in Hagrid's jacket too nervous to see someone else fall off a broom.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hands to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field 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 results - Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Neville and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was trying to explain. "Hermione and I saw him! He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off of you."

"So was Quirrell," Hermione explained. "One could have been muttering a counter curse."

"Why would any of the teachers do somethin' like that," Hagrid said. He had not heard a word of their conversation in the stands.

Harry looked at his friends and decided to tell them the truth.

"If there was someone cursing the broom it had to be Quirrell, not Snape," Harry said with absolution.

Ron and Neville looked at him in disbelief. Harry was standing up for Snape!

"I found out Quirrell was trying to get to the three headed-dog on Halloween. The reason he came to the bathroom was because Snape dragged him along. Snape went there to head him off. The troll was a distraction," Harry took a sip of the tea. Ron and Neville did not look convinced, Hermione looked concerned.

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

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

"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 Harry eagerly.

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

"But someone is trying to steal it," Harry said.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again, "They are both Hogwarts' Professors."

"So why did one of them just try to kill Harry?" Hermione offered. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid. I've read all about them. You've got to keep eye contact, and neither of them were blinking at all. I saw it with my own eyes!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn't try a' kill a student and Quirrell is too chicken! Now, listen to me, all yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don't 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 and hurried the the four of them out of his hut. They soon joined the party in the Gryffindor common room. The twins left and returned with trays full of food for everyone. Some hours later Harry crawled into bed. As soon as he pulled his drapes closed, Franny appeared. He held out his hand and she took him to Snape.

"Show off," Snape said as soon as he had sat down.

"I almost swallowed it!" Harry said in his defense. "Thanks for doing the counter jinx by the way."

"Humph," Snape said sipping his tea. "Who was doing the jinx though?"

"According to Hermione, Quirrell." Harry supplied, "she knocked him over and set you on fire."

"She ruined by good robes," Snape complained. "I should take points for that, since I couldn't repair them. What did she use?"

"Probably her blue flames," Harry guessed.

"She can cast the Bluebell Flames?" Snape said. "That girl is too smart for her own good! It was good cover though, getting both of us."

"Can you ask Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel to get that thing out of the school before it gets someone killed, mainly me!"

"Trust me, I've already had this talk with him, but I will have it again. Since you seem to keep finding out more," he said glaring at him.

"If we can figure out," Harry told him.

"So noted," Snape said sipping his tea.

Harry curled up in the blanket on the chair, did his mental homework staring into the fire, and then let sleep take him. There was a comfort being here with Snape, and he liked it.