As they entered November, the mountains around Hogwarts became icy grey, the lake froze like steel, and the grounds became covered in frost. And for some students, such as Harry and Tracey, there was the occasional condensation fogging up their glasses.
"This is so irritating," Tracey told Harry on Monday afternoon, while en route to Charms. "Dad used to do this spell that helps. But I can't remember it."
"I'll ask Professor Flitwick. Don't worry."
Tracey's spell ended up being the Impervius Charm, which Professor Flitwick was happy to instruct them on after class. However, as neither Harry nor Tracey managed to achieve a successful attempt by the end of their first lesson, Professor Flitwick extended his offer to biweekly tuition for the rest of the month. You could never learn enough at the best school in the world.
From spells to brooms, Harry's interests swung like a pendulum as the Quidditch season began. One minute he was studying and practising the Impervius Charm with Tracey, and the next minute he was taking a seat in the stands, watching Team Slytherin's practice. Marcus drilled the boys hard on tactics until the stadium began filling up with unwanted guests, at which point Team Slytherin switched to doing some generic form of practice. The less that was seen by their opponents, the better – as it stood with any sports team in the world.
"So tell me," Yasmin said to Harry in the stands, after having watched their team practise, "how does the match score get converted to house points?"
"The goal tally's divided by three and then rounded off. And fifty points to whoever catches the Snitch."
Yasmin smiled. "OK, so let's say Gryffindor scores ten goals while we score three but catch the Snitch. What'll that be?"
"Erm," – Harry rubbed his chin – "ten goals is a hundred – so that'll be thirty-three points for them. Three goals makes thirty, so that'll be ten plus fifty from the Snitch. Sixty for us."
"Close, isn't it?" Yasmin said. "So you can see how the whole team needs to do well in the end, even if the Seeker gets a big chunk of points."
They followed the rest of the Slytherins out onto the sloping lawn. Harry overheard Marcus telling one of the Beaters, Peregrine Derrick, not to worry about having 'big shoes to fill in'.
"I'm sure you'll do great, man," Marcus told the nervous Derrick. "Even Erika struggled a bit at first, from what I've heard."
"Who's Erika?" Harry asked Yasmin.
"Big blonde Erika Rath. She left at the end of last year and was probably Slytherin's best Beater in, well, decades." Yasmin chuckled. "Funnily enough, your Daphne pal looks a lot like her but smaller. She's got the same hair, the same eyes, and, well, a very similar face in general. It's quite cute, actually."
"Er, OK," said Harry. He didn't know how to respond to that.
On the second Saturday of November, Teams Gryffindor and Slytherin set out for their first game of the season. Both sides were said to be fielding a decent line-up, though the Gryffindors had struggled to fill the gap left behind by Charles Weasley. The stadium was packed with hundreds of students, some staff, and even a portion of visitors who'd come to watch the match. Banners of red and gold flashed here and there across the Gryffindor stands, while the Slytherin crowd displayed their own assortment of flags and banners, one of which was made by Harry and the girls.
"Hello, and welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season!" said the commentator sitting alongside Professor McGonagall in their podium. "I'm Lee Jordan, and today it's time to see whether the Lions or the Snakes has what it takes to seize the opening win ..."
Harry, who'd joined some of his classmates in the top row, brought his binoculars to his eyes and surveyed the staff's section of the stands. "Hey, where's Big Boss?"
"Who?" Pansy asked.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "How come he's not watching?"
Susan giggled and said, "Maybe he's just too busy with more important stuff? And you'd better not call him that, Harry."
"But that's what he is," Harry said. "The Big Boss of Hogwarts."
"... and here comes Team Gryffindor!" Jordan said over the magical megaphone in his hand. "Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood leads the way, followed by Chasers Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and the ever-so-attractive Angelina Johnson –" Jordan was politely warned by Professor McGonagall. "Right, er, here comes Beaters Fred and George Weasley, followed by Gryffindor's new Seeker, Kenneth Towler. Get 'em, Ken!"
"Five classmates on the same team?" Draco said to Daphne beside him. "And one on the megaphone? Ridiculous."
"There's a word for that," Daphne said. "Nepo ... something. Nepo-Potter?"
"Very funny," said Harry.
"And there's the Slytherins," said Jordan. The crowd booed and cheered as seven boys stepped on to the field. "Captain and Chaser Marcus Flint leads the way, followed by Chasers Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington. There's Seeker Terence Higgs, Keeper Miles Bletchley, and Beaters Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole. Looks like Derrick's filling in for Erika Rath – Slytherin's long-time Beater who left last year. Let's see if he can fill those big boots."
The teams positioned themselves in the centre of the pitch, where Madam Hooch oversaw the captains' handshake and then threw up the Quaffle. Fifteen brooms rose into the air as the game got underway.
"And they're off! Quaffle's set free and taken by Johnson. Johnson passes to Alicia Spinnet – an excellent find of Oliver Wood's. Spinnet rounds the clueless Flint and speeds down the left flank – which is Slytherin's right. Pucey and Warrington coming in hot from either side. But Spinnet drops the Quaffle to Katie –"
WHAM.
"Oh!" Jordan and the Gryffindor crowd groaned. "Bludger from Derrick knocks Bell off course. Quaffle's free and taken by Flint down the right. Bludger sent by Weasley. Deflected by Bole. Other Weasley chasing down the second Bludger. And now the Slytherin Chasers are heading down their right flank!"
Quidditch was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. His mouth hung open as he moved his binoculars from one player to another, trying to follow the movements of the Quaffle. Like a reddish blur it zipped from Chaser to Chaser in the air; from Flint to Pucey, then stolen by Johnson. Then came a Bludger from Bole, which was blocked by one of the Weasley twins.
"Johnson's moving in to battle Bletchley at the hoops!" said Jordan. "Remember, kids: only one attacking-Chaser can enter the scoring zone at a time. No Stooging! Johnson goes left, shoots ... SCORES past Bletchley to make it ten-zero in favour of Gryffindor!"
Gryffindor cheers filled the stadium like a tidal wave of noise. The Slytherins groaned.
"Slytherin in possession as Keeper Bletchley retrieves the Quaffle after Johnson's goal. Bletchley passes to Flint. Flint rolls away from a Bludger and passes to Warrington. It's Comet Two Sixty against Cleansweep Five as Warrington outstrips Spinnet down the middle. Warrington passes to Pucey. Pucey ducks Bell and Johnson as he switches to the left flank. Pucey getting dangerously close to Wood! Both Weasleys heading for that Bludger, but it's too late as Pucey shoots ... SAVED BY OLIVER WOOD!"
From time to time, Harry lost sight of the action and ended up having to either scan all over the place or rely on Lee Jordan's commentary. Jordan was quite good at his role, despite his bias, and his commentary kept you right in the game.
"ANGELINA SCORES THROUGH THE RIGHT HOOP! It's twenty-zero to the Lions so far! Excellent!" Jordan said. "Slytherin in possession again. Bletchley to Pucey. Pucey to Warrington. Bludger coming in from Weasley but deflected by Bole towards – WHAM! – Spinnet in the centre! Spinnet's unable to stop Flint from soaring down the middle. Flint heading in for goal ... shoots ... SAVED BY WOO –"
WHACK. Oliver Wood had taken one hell of a Bludger from Bole to the gut (the Gryffindors yelled in protest) and was now hanging on for dear life from his broom.
"Argh, damn it!" said Jordan, slamming his first on his desk. "That's perfectly legal if the Quaffle's within the scoring area, which it is. Flint seizes the Quaffle, shoots ... and obviously scores with no-one to guard the hoops. Twenty-ten still in favour of Gryffindor."
The match carried on with both teams launching their attacks, defending, and counterattacking when necessary. The Beaters were particularly vicious in the air, with both pairs working in sync against each other.
"And that's another Bludger from Derrick and Bole blocked by Fred and George!" said Jordan. "One of them's chasing down the second Bludger as Bell goes for goal ..."
And then it happened. One of the Weasley twins smashed a Bludger which went off-target and was now streaking towards the Slytherins. The speck of iron grew bigger by the millisecond, and Harry barely had time to think as he (and those nearby) ducked out of their seats.
"WHOA!" said Jordan. "Fred, George – whoever – did you lift, mate? That was one sick Bludger right there! Look! It's zipped right over those Slytherins' heads and left the stadium!"
A time-out was called as Madam Hooch put herself between the furious teams yelling at each other in the air. On the one side were Marcus and his boys hurling what were likely insults, and on the other side were the defensive Gryffindors doing pretty much the same. Meanwhile, as the Gryffindor crowd kept on cheering, the Slytherins were fuming at the close call over their seats.
"Harry!" Daphne said, as she and the others returned to their seats slightly shaken. "Are you OK? I can't believe a Weasley would do something like that!"
"I can," said Draco down below.
"I'm pretty sure that shot was meant for Bole," said Susan.
"Then he should've aimed properly, the squint dog!" Pansy said, to which many Slytherins agreed. "I've never seen a Bludger whacked so hard and off-target before!"
Harry, however, focused his binoculars on the Weasley twin who started speaking (or rather, almost pleading) with Madam Hooch. Weasley made all sorts of swinging gestures before Madam Hooch blew into her silver whistle, right when the Bludger finally returned and carried on zooming around the pitch as usual.
"Looks like it's a penalty for Slytherin, then," said Jordan, and the Gryffindor crowd booed. "Flint flies forward to take it. Wood's ready at the posts. Flint goes right – Wood goes left to block him. Flint rolls left – Wood goes right. Flint takes a desperate shot to the middle!" Jordan groaned. "And it's through the hoops, making it twenty-twenty!"
WHACK. And the Slytherins laughed as Gryffindor's Seeker took a Bludger to the side while cruising past the sea of green and silver.
"OH NO!" Jordan yelled. "Towler's down after taking a nasty Dopplebeater Defence! That was a cheap shot, you dirty –"
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall could be heard yelling in the background.
"And the Quaffle's passed from Spinnet to Bell as our girls make their way down the middle. Angelina Johnson's bringing up the rear" – Jordan gave a slight snort that sounded like a laugh – "and takes the backpass from Bell. Johnson rounds the oncoming Pucey and keeps the Quaffle out of Warrington's reach. Johnson throws it up to Spinnet above ..."
Team Gryffindor continued to launch one attack after another at Team Slytherin, who conceded two goals before finally making their way up the pitch. Then came a couple more goals from either side, followed by Kenneth Towler spotting the Golden Snitch.
"And here we go, people!" Jordan said. "We're still on sixty-forty in favour of Gryffindor as the battle for the Snitch gets underway!"
This was it. Harry kept his binoculars fixed upon the two Seekers jostling each other in the air. They shot down the right side of the pitch and followed the Snitch on its climb. Meanwhile, Jordan's commentary kept the crowd up to date on matters elsewhere:
"... looks like Flint's passed to Pucey. Pucey going forward. He shoots ... SAVED by Wood and collected by Spinnet on the rebound! Spinnet heading down the right. Spinnet lobs it out of Warrington's reach to Bell! Bell to Johnson down the middle ..."
Johnson's run (or rather, flight) ended in a Gryffindor goal by Spinnet, which was followed by a Slytherin attack stopped by two Bludger-shots midway down the pitch. From there, the Gryffindors launched their counterattack as Alicia Spinnet sped down the left wing.
"Spinnet's passed Flint on the left! She's cutting in towards the left hoop, shoots ... SAVED by Bletchley! Slytherin in possession as – OH NO! TOWLER'S WHACKED! HIGGS'S GAINING ON THE SNITCH! WEASLEY BLUDGER COMING IN! BLOCKED BY BOLE ... IT'S CAUGHT! HIGGS'S CAUGHT IT! Nooooooooo!"
Though their numbers were nowhere near the thousands, the Slytherin crowd let loose a roar of celebration not unlike those at a Muggle sports match. Over a hundred students jumped up and down while yelling "YEEEEAAAAAH!" and doing all sorts of celebrations. Everything was a blur of green and silver wherever you looked.
"We won!" Susan yelled beside Harry. "We won! We won! We won! We won! WE WOOOON!"
"WOOHOOOOO!" Pansy shouted, hugging Tracey as they both danced up and down on their seats.
"Take that, Gryffindor scum!" Draco yelled. He kept on hurling insults as if the rows of red could somehow hear him. "Dumb losers! Pathetic! Poor! We're the best!"
"Better than all the rest!" Theodore said while hopping and cheering alongside Vincent, Gregory, and Blaise.
And then there was Daphne, who leaped onto her seat and started hopping and cheering with Harry. It was the best kind of madness that Harry could have hoped for that morning, though the same could not be said of Lee Jordan in his podium.
"Yes, yes, congratulations, Team Slytherin. Today's match ends on a hundred and ninety to seventy. We'll get 'em next time."
Elsewhere, the seven boys in green were flying around the pitch in a lap of honour, though it seemed more like a lap of dishonour as they mainly did it to mock the Gryffindors. Marcus led the way in cheering and then guffawing as the team passed by the booing red-crowd. And not even Harry could resist chortling at the antics while watching through his binoculars.
"Is that really necessary?" Harry asked.
"Yep," Pansy said beside him. "Because they're losers."
Harry did the maths regarding the House Championship as they left the stadium. Team Slytherin had been on forty points before the Snitch was caught, making it thirteen points earned from the Quaffle action. And when combined with Higgs's successful capture of the Snitch, it meant that Slytherin had earned a total of sixty-three house points from the match, while Gryffindor scored twenty-three.
"P - p - p - partaaaayyyyyy!" Pansy almost shouted on the way up the slopes. Tracey frowned at her.
"Why are you stuttering like that? Are you trying to be Quirrell?"
"No," said Pansy, ignoring the giggling around her. "I just wanted to say it so, OK? Let's have a party. There'd better be desserts with golden syrup there."
"I still prefer honey," said Tracey.
It took a while for some of the older students to set things up, considering that the Quidditch game was succeeded by lunch. So at around two o'clock that day, Harry and the rest of the Slytherins returned to find their common room filled with jam rolls, sweet rolls, chocolate éclairs, chicken platters, and all sorts of other delights.
"Wow!" said Pansy. "So much food in the hood!"
"This apple juice is mine," Marcus said, swiping away the glass jug that Pansy had just picked up from the nearest table. Pansy, on the other hand, stomped her foot and went red in the face.
"I was here first! I'm gonna tell Auntie Maggie" (Marcus's mother, Magdalene) "that you were mean to me! You couldn't even score that many goals! And you were outplayed by a bunch of girls!"
Marcus guffawed, even more so as Daphne balled her fists and put herself between Marcus and Pansy.
"You're acting like a proper wool, you know that?"
"A what?" Marcus lowered one of his brows in confusion. "Quit acting like babies, man."
"Yeah, don't be so rude," Susan told Pansy at the table. "No need to insult his Quidditch performance."
Marcus's fellow Chaser Cassius Warrington (whom Harry had met back on the train) came striding over from one of the corner tables. He was surprisingly quick in his step and arrived in no time. "She's got a point about those Chasers, though."
"Yeah, well," – Marcus shrugged – "at least we still won."
"He always does something like that at functions," Pansy told Harry at their table. "One time, he deliberately took a peanut cluster right when I was going for it. It's not funny."
Just then, Harry saw the female seventh-year prefect – Virginia Abberton – arrive on-scene. She was fair-skinned and had long, dark-brown hair.
"Flint, apologise to Parkinson for acting like a child."
Marcus snorted and said, "Fine, OK. I'm sorry."
Just when Pansy was about to respond, she was reprimanded by Prefect Abberton.
"And you, crybaby, had better apologise for throwing tantrums and yelling unnecessary insults."
"Sorry," Pansy muttered, biting her lip and fidgeting with her fingers. "Won't happen again."
On that note, Prefect Abberton whipped out her wand and cast some sort of spell that duplicated the jug of apple juice (many students nodded and whispered to one another at this feat). "One for you, and one for him. Now quit acting like muppets."
"Well said, Ginny," said Prefect Reginald Vance, Abberton's counterpart. "Back to the partying, people. We sure showed those Lions, didn't we?"
Daphne, meanwhile, went up to Prefect Abberton and asked very politely (and with an empty bowl in hand) if the latter could make her a bowl of meat stew. Prefect Abberton smiled, and shook her head.
"Unfortunately, food happens to be the first of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration." (Daphne, and many students around her, simply stared in confusion) "You can summon it, increase it, transform it, and whatever else have you. But you cannot create it ... got it?"
Daphne nodded, her mouth still hanging open a centimetre or two. Meanwhile, as a silent, fuming Pansy refused to eat anything, Harry saw Tracey approach Pansy with a plate of treats in hand.
"Here, don't be cross," Tracey said, holding out the plate. "I put lots of golden syrup on these for you."
"Huh? Oh, er, thanks," said Pansy. "I'll go find you some honey stuff, then."
The party carried on throughout the afternoon, after which the Slytherins went up to the Great Hall for dinner. It was a great day on the whole, though nobody seemed to be bothered by that unusual Bludger-shot earlier. Few, if any, students seemed to be discussing it at this point.
"I don't get it," Harry told Pansy in the common room after dinner. "How come nobody's bothered by that one shot that went so far?"
"Dumb strength, maybe. I don't know." Pansy shrugged as she took a seat on one of the corner couches, far away from the crowded fireplace. "OK, so maybe it was a little odd, considering how far Weasley was from us –"
"And it went totally skew," said Harry.
"Yeah, that too. But it's not really something super-duper suspicious. Even the best Beaters mis-hit their Bludgers from time to time. And, like I said, maybe that Weasley just got the strength of a troll for that moment. I hear they live like trolls anyway."
Although not entirely convinced, Harry shrugged it off and carried on with his day. He spent much of his evening ploughing through his Transfiguration homework after having seen that amazing spell which Prefect Abberton had used.
The rest of November carried on with Harry getting through his coursework while also making time for his extra-curricular activities. At some point, both Harry and Tracey managed to get a decent Impervius Charm going, thus earning themselves (and their house) five points each. Harry also snuck in a supervised flying-session whenever he could in the stadium, which he hoped would earn him some plus points should he ever decide to try out for the team someday.
Speaking of Quidditch, on the first Saturday of December Ravenclaw smashed Hufflepuff three hundred and twenty to fifty, putting themselves well ahead in the House Championship. The reigning Quidditch champions looked set to continue their win-streak since the start of last season, with the closest match having been their narrow win against Slytherin back in January.
Meanwhile, Harry had other things on his mind. He knew that he could neither return to the Dursleys nor visit the Malfoys for Christmas. Even worse, Harry had a good guess that choosing to visit anyone else while rejecting Draco's offer would surely cause unnecessary drama. So in the end, Harry chose the neutral option by putting down his name when Professor McGonagall came round making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays.
"I still say you should've taken Draco's offer," Pansy told Harry (in a whisper) during their second-last flying lesson of the term. It was freezing to the point where nobody wished to stand still outside, thus affording Harry and Pansy a bit of private conversation on the snowy ground. "Can't you give him one chance?"
Harry kept his eyes on Madam Hooch, who was busy instructing Parvati and Hermione on how to stand on their brooms, while speaking. "Well, I mean, maybe –"
Just then, Hermione slipped off her broom and landed face-first in the thick snow. She was unharmed and had a good giggle with Parvati, until they saw Draco, Vincent, and Gregory mocking Hermione from behind Madam Hooch's back.
"There's your answer," Harry told Pansy, who frowned.
"Yeah, but they are actually nice people. You know Mrs Malfoy sent sweets and cakes for my birthday a few times, right? I think you're overbearing when it comes to Granger."
"Whatever." Harry's cheek twitched in annoyance. "Remember what Tracey said? The Malfoys are only nice to you because you're a pure-blood. That's the kind of people they are."
"But Draco's nice to you, isn't he?"
"Doesn't seem genuine," said Harry.
Pansy's insistence on defending Draco was starting to get on Harry's nerves, though Harry said nothing in return. He simply shrugged and carried on with their broom-surfing lesson – which he found to be easy as pie. In fact, Draco chose this exact moment to comment on how Harry could have spent his holidays 'improving himself' at Malfoy Manor.
"Father would've organised us proper flying-instructors," Draco said in a low voice, after Harry had earned them five points for his efforts. "Much better than this old hag, that's for sure."
Pansy nodded as she said, "Yeah! All of us are spending Christmas at the Malfoys, Harry. Come on!"
"'Most' of us, you mean," said Susan.
"As if I even wanted you at my house," said Draco, which was exactly what Harry had expected. There was no way that Harry would be spending his holidays over at the 'magical Dursleys', that's for sure.