The days settled back into their routine after the Troll incident. They told Hannah and Susan about their encounter, but not about Donna's subsequent revelation. While she liked the two Hufflepuffs well enough, she didn't want to spread her story around too much. She might tell them at some point, but not just yet.

Soon it was time for the first Quidditch match of the year, for which Harry had been training since getting his broom.

Donna trooped along with her classmates to the stands, to show support for Harry and solidarity for her house. She didn't know how much she would enjoy the game, though. She wasn't much into soccer for the same reason – watching a bunch of billionaires running around kicking away a sack of air was hardly her idea of a good time. She was hoping a live game with people she knew would have a better atmosphere.

And it did. There was a certain excitement in the air that drew in even the most reluctant spectator. There was something about the chanting, the painted banners flashing in different colours (Potter for President... she wasn't the only one going for pop-culture references) and the live commentator that swept you up in a tide of energy that was hard to deny. Still, when Donna watched the stunts being pulled up in the air, she was more than happy to remain firmly on the ground.

Then suddenly things started going wrong. Hermione was peering through a pair of binoculars she'd borrowed from Hagrid when she gasped and pointed. Donna peered up and spotted Harry, who seemed to be flying in the oddest pattern – a jerk to the left, a twist to the right. Harry was hanging on for dear life.

By the time the rest of the students noticed his predicament, he'd nearly fallen off and was holding on with one hand, while the Weasley twins tried to position themselves so that they could catch him. Hermione changed the direction of the binoculars to take in the stands.

"Look at Snape," she gasped. "He's jinxing Harry's broom!"

Donna made a grab for the binoculars. Snape was indeed focusing intently on Harry, constantly moving his lips. But Donna remembered something Hermione seemed to have overlooked. They had two suspects for who had let in the troll – and the second one was standing on the same side as Snape.

"Hermione, look!" She managed to snag the other girl's sleeve before she rushed off to do something Gryffindorish.

"There's no time!" the girl yelled. Donna shoved the binoculars at her.

"Make time! Look at Quirrell!"

Hermione took the binoculars and looked.

"But.. he's jinxing too!"

"That, and not a trace of a stutter. Seems like Turban there is more competent than he's showing in class."

"So what, they're both jinxing the broom?"

"My guess is one is jinxing and the other is counterjinxing, otherwise Harry would have fallen off already. Question is, who's doing the jinxing?"

Hermione nodded firmly. "I'll have to disrupt both of them at the same time, if we make the wrong guess Harry will fall!"

Donna tracked Hermione's progress towards the other stand anxiously, alternating the binoculars between her and Harry. Looked like she'd decided to focus on Quirrell. Donna saw a small ribbon of smoke trailing up from his robes, but in the chaos when the small fire was discovered, Snape was likewise pushed and lost eyecontact with the bucking broom. Donna hurriedly looked back up.

Harry was still hanging from his broom with one hand, but the sudden cessation of jinxes caused the wood to give one last violent lurch, catching the boy unawares. To Donna's horrified gaze, his grip slipped, and then he was falling. She didn't notice Neville holding her arm in a death grip.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the whole pitch holding its breath – and then the Weasley twins swooped in, somehow flanking him. They managed to manoevre him behind one of them mid-air, causing the stands to erupt in cheers and applause.

The three of them quickly flew down, and Harry rolled off the back of the broom, coughing violently. For a moment silence descended again, only for the noise to return tenfold when he thrust up his arm, holding the fluttering snitch. Gryffindor had won.

***DNMCY1***

While most of their House went to the common room to celebrate, Hagrid tried to invite Harry and his friends to his hut, but Donna was not having it.

"You just nearly fell to your death! You're lucky Fred and George were there, but madam Pomfrey IS going to check you over, young man. I can't imagine what the teachers here are thinking, just leaving you alone after that ordeal."

Harry spluttered. "I'm fine, Donna! I'm not hurt or anything!"

Donna put her hands on Harry's shoulders and looked at him intently. "And I repeat – you just nearly fell to your death. I'm not kidding, Harry. You're going to the infirmary if I have to drag you there. If it makes you feel better, you can pretend it's for our benefit – because we just WATCHED you fall! You're our friend. That means we care about you. You'd better get used to it. Now let's go. You can visit Hagrid later, once madam Pomfrey has done her thing."

She could see the moment Harry gave in, so she took his arm.

"Great. Allons-y!"

A while later they were sitting on two of the hospital beds, explaining to madam Pomfrey what had happened. She harrumphed. "I always said Quidditch was much too dangerous a sport to be played in a school."

"Well to be fair, he wouldn't have fallen at all if someone hadn't been jinxing his broom," Donna said.

"Yes, and I still can't quite reconcile what I know about either Severus or Quirinus with homicide. I mean, I don't doubt you saw what you saw, but I've known both of these young men for years, and I can't see how I could've misjudged either one quite so thoroughly. I'm usually a fairly good judge of character. I'll have to keep a closer eye on them, see what I can find out.

"Meanwhile, here's a Calming Draught for all of you, you can take a dose now and one just before bed, that should help you over the worst of today's shock. Harry, you're physically fine, but make sure you get a good night's sleep, and if you can't, come to me tomorrow morning and I'll write you a note so you can take a nap here."

When they left the hospital wing, it was too late to go to Hagrid's, though they decided to pay their friend a visit the next day. As they walked, Donna quietly asked Neville to keep an eye on Harry, to see how he slept. She'd ask Dean too, she was friendly enough with him that she could ask him for a favour. She knew Harry's type – he would never ask for help if he could avoid it.

In the common room, the victory party was still in full swing. Fred and George noticed their entrance.

"There he is, gentle witches and wizards!"

"The man of the hour!"

"Youngest Seeker in a century!"

"The Boy-Who-Lived himself!"

"Haaaarry Potter!"

Before the boy could protest, the twins had hoisted him up on their shoulders and carried him in a victory lap around the room, while the Gryffindors cheered him on. Harry was grinning and waving – perhaps a bit awkwardly, but hardly scowling like he usually did when he heard his epithet. By the time they dropped him back off with his friends, he was looking a bit flushed, but happy.

Donna bumped his shoulder and grinned at him, but she did not comment. Someone pushed a drink into their hands. At least it wasn't pumpkin juice, Donna decided when she took a sip. There was no alcohol in it (good thing, too, if they'd given alcohol to 11-year-olds she'd really have kicked up a fuss). It had a slight caramelly taste that she rather liked. She'd have to find out what it was and if she could get that for lunch or dinner, because she did NOT understand wizarding obsession with pumpkin juice.

***DNMCY1***

The following day they kept their promise to visit Hagrid, recounting everything they'd seen. The half-giant had been right there, but too caught up in concern for Harry to hear what they'd been saying. He refused to believe either Quirrell or Snape could be behind it. Contrary to madam Pomfrey, though, his reaction was not "I'll have to keep an eye on them". Instead, he simply dismissed their concerns. In the world of Rubeus Hagrid, a thing like that, a teacher attacking a student, simply could not happen, and so it was not true.

Donna guessed it showed the goodness of his character, but it also spoke volumes about his sense of reality.

"I can't shake the feeling that what happened is somehow related to the three-headed dog," she said.

Hagrid's head whipped around.

"How do you know 'bout Fluffy?"

"... Fluffy?"

In the conversation that followed, they found out that 'Fluffy' was Hagrid's dog, he was indeed guarding something, and that something had to do with Nicholas Flamel.

The name rang a bell, but she couldn't quite put her finger on when she might have heard it. She should ask Jack – if it was a name she'd heard in her previous life, he might know something.