Chapter Five – Quidditch

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Harry often wondered what happened to the giant squid during the cold winter months, though Millie assured him that the lake was supposedly very deep, and connected through underwater caves to the open sea. On particularly cold days, Harry liked to stare out the window during History of Magic, imaging the squid taking a winter holiday somewhere warm and sunny.

He would often spy Hagrid through the window walking toward the Quidditch field. His size made him easy to spy no matter how far up one of Hogwarts's many towers Harry climbed. During his regular after-school visits, Hagrid explained that he was busy defrosting broomsticks for the upcoming Quidditch season. Harry had no idea why the broomsticks would need defrosting, or what this process would even entail, but he enjoyed listening while Millie and Blaise discussed popular Quidditch teams.

With Blaise's careful instruction, Harry was beginning to understand what he could expect from the first Quidditch match of the season. He took a particular interest in it, as the first match always featured Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The winning team earned points toward the House Cup and progressed in the tournament for the Quidditch Cup. Flying lessons for the first years had already come to a close, much to Harry's disappointment. Flying had been the subject Harry excelled in the most, and he looked forward to his second year when he could officially try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

As usual, Malfoy was completely insufferable. When he wasn't taunting Gryffindors about the upcoming match, he was loudly proclaiming to his fellow Slytherins that their victory would be assured if only he had been allowed on the team.

"Flint's a good captain and all," he explained to Harry one afternoon, though Harry had not shown the slightest interest in having a conversation with him, "His beaters are top notch. I've seen them during practice. And Pucey's not a bad chaser, either. But he's mad if he thinks Higgs is a fit seeker. Now, if it were me..."

Harry knew that saying anything, even an insult, would only encourage Malfoy, so he wordlessly packed up his potions homework and left the common room without a backward glance. He could hear Malfoy carrying on his conversation with Crabbe and Goyle, telling them that Potter must not have understood all of his complex Quidditch jargon. "Poor bloke, did you know he was raised by muggles?"

Harry nearly bumped into Terrence Higgs, the Slytherin seeker on his way out the door.

"Malfoy thinks you're shite at seeking," Harry said without so much as a hello.

"Does he now?" Higgs remarked darkly. He was short for his sixteen years, not much taller than Harry. But there was something svelte about the way he moved that reminded Harry strongly of a panther, and made him quite intimidating. They passed each other without another word, and Harry continued on his way to the library, vaguely wondering if Malfoy would have anything amusing to say about his confrontation with Higgs later.

Harry wasn't the only one who had escaped the dungeons to work on homework in the relative comfort of the library. Blaise was sitting at a table to himself, frowning at a piece of parchment in front of him.

"Potions?" Harry asked, taking a seat across from him. "Same for me."

Blaise grunted and began leafing through the pages of Magical Draughts and Potions. "You would think that with Slytherin playing in the first Quidditch match, Snape would have let us off the hook."

Harry shook his head in disagreement, "I heard the team was excused from their homework, but no luck for us first-years."

Blaise sighed and leaned back in his chair, balancing on the two rear legs, "You know. My mum was supposedly really good at potions. Pity I didn't inherit any of her skill."

"We could ask someone for help," Harry said, looking around the library. He spied a bushy-haired Gryffindor girl scouring the bookshelves, the stack in her arms already towering far above her head. Hermione Granger shared the same potions class with Harry and Blaise, and though Snape despised her as he did every other Gryffindor, he was begrudgingly forced to award her full points for her work each lesson.

"We could ask Granger," he suggested, but Blaise shook his head.

"Rumor has it she's been taking Longbottom's homework to the hospital wing. I doubt she'll help us, too."

After Halloween, word had spread that while Harry and his friends had been aiding Snape against the three-headed dog, Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger had faced off against a mountain troll. Apparently, Longbottom had realized Granger wasn't in the Great Hall during Quirrell's alarming announcement, and he had gone off to warn her of the danger. Unfortunately, the troll had made its way out of the dungeons, and cornered the Gryffindor students in a girls' lavatory. Hermione had been unharmed, while Neville ended up in the hospital wing with a concussion. The teachers all said it was lucky they made it out with their lives.

As for Neville, after his previous visit for a broken wrist after their first flying lesson, and now the run-in with the troll, he was quickly earning a reputation for being the most unlucky student in the school.

Harry sighed, resigned to the fact that he might actually have to complete his homework without help, when he had a sudden thought.

"What about Snape?"

"What about him?"

"Maybe we can ask him for some extra homework help?"

"Harry, are you barking mad?"

"No. I'd just like to see how he's getting along on that leg of his."

Blaise chuckled, "Now I know you're crazy. Feeling sorry for Snape?"

"That's not it. I was just thinking that he's not likely to have another go at stealing the artifact while his leg's still on the mend."

Harry and his friends had taken to referring to the mysterious parcel as "the artifact" since they were no closer to guessing what it was. Besides, it felt a little strange to be constantly talking about "Dumbledore's package."

"Do you still think we should steal it?" Blaise asked.

Harry thought carefully before responding, "I think it must be something important if someone tried to break into Gringotts for it. And Dumbledore must really value it if he's put that dog there to protect it. And if it's that valuable, there's no way I want someone like Snape to have it."

Harry could see that Blaise agreed with him from the expression on his face. Though Snape had always shown Blaise the same preference he showed the other Slytherin students, Blaise had learned to hate him on Harry's account.

"You make a good point, but how are we supposed to get past the dog?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Harry said, looking around the vast library again, "After all, there are a lot of books in here. I'm sure there's something about how to get past a three-headed dog."

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. Harry was looking forward to witnessing his first Quidditch match. He kept looking down the table to where the Slytherin team, already dressed in silver and green Quidditch robes, were gathered at the end of the breakfast table. He was amazed to see that not one of them looked nervous as they took their meal, though no one appeared to be talking. Harry was impressed. If he had been expected to fly in front of the whole school in less than an hour's time, dodging bludgers and the like, he expected he would feel rather sick. Her certainly wouldn't be able to eat as many sausages as Marcus Flint, the team captain.

Soon Flint was gesturing wordlessly to the rest of his team, and they proceeded out of the Great Hall. Harry's stomach twisted in sympathetic knots as their procession was met with loud jeers from the other houses. The winner of this match would face the Hufflepuffs in the next game, and they made no secret of which team they preferred to see progress to the next round.

Harry caught the eye of Terrence Higgs as he moved to follow the rest of his team. He had grown to like Higgs ever since Malfoy became oddly silent whenever he was in Higg's presence. Harry offered him a smile that he hoped was encouraging, but Higgs turned away without acknowledgment.

"I wish they'd shut up," Millie said in response to the continued jeering from the Huffepuff table.

"They might as well get their licks in before we flatten them next match," Blaise said absently, his eyes roving over a letter he received from his mother by owl post that morning.

"Can we focus on one game at a time, please?" Harry asked, "It's difficult enough keeping up with Gryffindor without having to make enemies of the rest of the school."

"We aren't making enemies of them, Harry. They've made enemies of us," Blaise said in a matter-of-fact tone. To demonstrate, he turned to look at a pair of first-year Hufflepuff girls who were discussing the upcoming match. He caught their eye with a smile and a wave and asked pleasantly, "Nice day for a bit of Quidditch, isn't it? Have either of you played before?"

The girls glared at him. One of them even stuck out her tongue. Then they turned away, saying in loud voices how Slytherins were all stuck up, thinking that just because they'd never played they didn't know anything about Quidditch.

Blaise turned away with a shrug and smirked at Harry, "See what I mean?"

"But why does everyone hate Slytherin so much?"

"Probably because we're better at everything," Blaise said.

Harry snorted, "And modest, too."

"No, he's right Harry," Millie interjected, "We've won the house cup the last seven years in a row, and we do pretty well in Quidditch too."

"That, and most of us come from old wizarding families," Blaise added.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"Pureblood has a lot of influence in the wizarding community. Some people are jealous, I think."

Harry wanted to ask more about this aspect of wizarding life he'd had so little experience with, but the whole school began moving out the doors, as if acting on some invisible signal. The Quidditch match was about to begin.

"We better head down to the pitch," Blaise said, tucking his letter into his pocket. "Grab us a snack, Harry."

Harry obligingly grabbed a few pastries from the gold dishes and hurriedly followed in his friend's footsteps. Millie had her arms full with a banner they had painted onto some of Malfoy's sheets (stripped off of his bed when he wasn't around). Blaise was carrying a pair of binoculars he'd bought for the express purpose of better enjoying the Quidditch match. He insisted that they were top-of-the-line enchanted binoculars developed for wizarding entertainment, but Harry giggled at their old-fashioned appearance. To him, they looked like antique opera glasses. However, he refrained from teasing Blaise after he threatened not to share.

They made their way down to the Quidditch pitch where Harry had been used to taking his flying lessons. Today the flags had been raised above the tall towers, decorated in every house color. The stands were already filling to the brim with student spectators, and here and there Harry could even see a few of his teachers, marshaling the crowds and ensuring everyone got safely to their seats. The tall silver hoops that acted as the Quidditch goal posts gleamed brightly in the sunlight. Harry wondered if in addition to defrosting broom-handles, Hagrid had also needed to shine the posts.

Just being a part of the crowd was enthralling. Harry helped his friends unfurl their banner, painted with Blaise's best artistic rendering of a twisted serpent, and hung it in front of their front-row seats. Soon Madam Hooch, refereeing the match today, blew her whistle and the two teams – one green and one scarlet, took to the air. Harry saw the golden snitch only for a moment before it was released and sped off into the blue sky. He did not envy the team's seekers who would need to find the little golden ball and catch it in order to end the game. It seemed like a nearly impossible task.

"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."

A Gryffindor boy named Lee Jordan was running commentary for the match, watched closely by Professor McGonagall. Harry joined the others in laughing at Jordan's poorly-timed observation, but he was quickly engrossed by the fast-paced action of the game taking place above him.

"Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes," Jordan continued, amid loud cheers from the Slytherin onlookers. "He's flying like an eagle up there... He's going to score – no! He's stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Oliver Wood."

Harry joined the others in booing the Gryffindor team as the scarlet players took possession of the Quaffle and began racing down the pitch. Harry was amazed by how quickly the Quaffle changed hands during the game. The players had to control the flight of their brooms while throwing and catching the Quaffle to their teammates, all the while avoiding other players and roving bludgers. It was all Lee Jordan could do to keep up with the action. Occasionally though, the players did make a mistake. Katie Bell of the Gryffindor team was struck in the back of the head by a bludger and dropped the Quaffle right back into Slytherin hands. But Adrian Pucey, the Slytherin Chaser in possession of the ball, was quickly stopped mid-flight by a bludger himself. Harry watched with bated breath as the Quaffle passed into the hands of the Gryffindor team once again, and their Chaser approached the goal posts. The Slytherin Keeper, Bletchley, dove to block the Chaser's throw, but he missed it by a mile.

"Gryffindor scores!" Jordan yelled triumphantly as Harry and the others moaned in frustration. Harry hated to admit that Malfoy might have been right about anything, but there did appear to be players on the team who needed improvement.

"Budge up there, move along!"

"Hagrid!" Harry cried in surprise, moving aside in a fruitless attempt to make room for his friend. The surrounding Slytherin crowd looked at Hagrid disapprovingly, but a bit of bullying from Blaise and a few dark looks from Millie soon secured Hagrid a seat among his Slytherin favorites.

"No sign of the snitch yet, eh?" asked Hagrid, oblivious to the dirty looks thrown at him from surrounding students.

"Not yet," said Harry. "Gryffindor just scored ten points though."

"Yeah, saw that on me way here," Hagrid nodded. Harry knew that Hagrid had been sorted into Gryffindor house when he'd been a student, but he had the decency to look disappointed in the score for Harry's sake. He offered the large pair of binoculars he wore around his neck to Harry, who accepted them gratefully and turned his attention back to the game.

"Slytherin in possession.." Jordan's narration continued, "Chaser Pucey ducks two bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell... He speeds toward the... Wait a second, was that the snitch?"

Harry had spied it through the binoculars a second before Jordan did. The small flash of gold passed just by Pucey's ear as he raced toward the goal posts. The sound of its whizzing wings must have startled him, because he dropped the Quaffle. It was intercepted by a Gryffindor Chaser, but everyone's attention was now directed toward the two racing Seekers. Even the other players had stopped mid-flight to see what would happen.

Higgs lay flat against his broom, a green blur racing toward the snitch. He was neck-and-neck with the Gryffindor seeker. Harry dropped Hagrid's binoculars in his excitement, screaming himself hoarse along with the rest of his house. Even Hagrid raised his voice in a hearty cheer.

"Go on! You've got it!"

It was as if Higgs was suddenly moving in slow motion. Harry could see him pull just slightly in front of the Gryffindor seeker. He was smaller, but his arms seemed to reach just a bit farther. His fingertips brushed the golden surface of the snitch, and then he had it. Slytherin had won the first match.

"Oh no..." Jordan's amplified voice was saying to the audience, "Higgs has got it. Slytherin wins the match..."

If he sounded a little unenthusiastic, it didn't matter to Harry. He was too busy cheering his head off with the rest of his friends. The first-years all jumped up and down in their excitement, shaking the wooden stands below them until Hagrid warned them all to settle down. As the Gryffindor team flew back to the ground, heads bowed low, Flint led the Slytherins on a victory circuit of the field. Higgs flew right over Harry, the hem of his robes just brushing the top of Harry's head. He paused when he spotted Draco Malfoy in the stands, who moments before had been cheering with the rest of them, but stopped abruptly when he saw Higgs staring at him.

Higgs lifted the snitch in his hand, gave it a passive look, and hurled it in Malfoy's face.

"Not bad for a shite seeker, eh?" He said before soaring off again. Malfoy's face turned beet red.

"He's amazing!" Harry gushed as he, Blaise, and Millie made their way with Hagrid toward his hut moments later. Of course, he was talking about Higgs, "I didn't know anyone could fly like that! He was so fast! And did you see that dive?"

"Not to mention his little jab at Draco," Blaise said with a smirk, "I know you had to love that part, Harry."

"Well, yeah. Malfoy got what was coming to him."

"Was' tha' now?" Hagrid asked.

"Malfoy was talking badly about the Slytherin team the other day, especially Higgs. So I say Higgs could have done a lot worse than just throwing the snitch at him."

Hagrid looked troubled. "So this Malfoy says somethin' bad about 'em, and he looks abou' after his victory so he can go rub it in 'is face?"

"Yeah, that's about right."

"Seems a trifle petty to me. Why can't he just enjoy his victory? That was some real quality flyin' today. No need ter spoil with with little rivalries."

Harry didn't think Hagrid understood just how annoying Malfoy could be, but he didn't want to argue with him. Instead, they changed the subject back to Slytherin's victory and the boost it would give their house points as they settled down to tea with Hagrid.

"We're in the lead for house cup now," Blaise was saying. "Snape ought to be pleased. He'll have something to gloat to McGonagall about."

"Maybe he'll be in such a good mood he'll just forget about the potions essay," Millie said hopefully.

Harry laughed, "Oh sure. He'll excuse everyone but me."

"Come ter think on it," Hagrid said as he placed a bowl of unappetizing rock cakes in front of the trio of friends, "Where was Professor Snape durin' the match? Thought he'da been front row in the staff box, but I din' see 'em."

Harry exchanged a look with Millie and Blaise. He could tell they were both thinking the same as him. They'd all been very stupid. If Snape was trying to steal something from the forbidden corridor, wouldn't it make sense to have another go at it when the rest of the school was out on on the grounds? For all they knew, he was cheerfully surveying whatever treasure Dumbledore had hidden at that very moment.

"He's probably trying to get past that three-headed dog again," Harry said bluntly. Hagrid dropped his teapot to the floor with a loud clatter.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he asked, clearly alarmed.

Harry gaped at him, "Fluffy?"

"Yeah! He's mine. I bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the..."

"Yes?" Harry and Blaise asked eagerly.

"Never you mind!" Hagrid said gruffly. "That's top secret, that is! You all shouldn't even know about Fluffy."

"But Hagrid," said Harry very seriously, "Snape's trying to steal whatever that dog... whatever Fluffy is guarding. You have to tell Dumbledore."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher. He'd do nuthin' of the sort."

"Hagrid! We caught him red-handed! He was trying to break into the forbidden corridor on Halloween, but the... but Fluffy stopped him!"

"But Professor Snape's one of the teacher's protecting the... the..."

"Yes?" Harry said, literally sitting on the edge of his seat.

Hagrid looked very flustered. "Now that's enough from you! You're meddlin' in things that ought not to be meddled in! It's too dangerous fer a bunch of firs' years! No, you forget that dog and what it's guardin'. You leave that between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."

"Aha!" said Harry, "So there's someone named Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.