As November swept over them, the weather turned very cold. The grounds were
always covered in a thick layer of frost, and if you dared put a finger in
the lake, your whole hand would be numb for hours.
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry was to play in his first match. Against Gryffindor. If Slytherin won, they would move up to second place in the house championship.
No one but the Slytherin team had seen Harry play. Flint had decided to use Harry as a sort of secret weapon, to surprise not only the Gryffindors but the rest of the school as well. Not a word had been leaked to anybody. Except, of course, Harry's friends, whom he had told once he'd gotten on the team.
As the match drew nearer and Harry stopped eating in favor of running through the rules of Quidditch, Hermione decided he needed something to read, so she lent him /Quidditch Through The Ages/, which was a very good book. It kept Harry's mind on the match but distracted him somewhat. He could be seen reading it at all times.
The day before the match, when the five of them were out on the grounds, Hermione conjured up a bright blue fire that could be carried in a jam jar. Unfortunately, just as they started getting warm, Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that he was limping. Under the cover of the others, Hermione ducked down and scooped the flames up, putting them in her pocket.
Snape passed by them after scrutinizing their faces for a moment. They all breathed a sigh of relief.
"Why is he limping?" Hermione whispered.
"No idea."
That evening, while the three other Slytherins were making Harry concentrate on his homework, someone burst into the common room. It was Hermione. Harry noticed most of the Slytherins giving Hermione malicious glares at once. He stood up immediately and hurried over to her.
"What is it, Mione?" he said quietly.
"Oh, I just saw the most —" she suddenly seemed to notice the looks she was getting and stopped. "Maybe I should tell you outside."
Once outside the common room, Hermione began rambling.
"I was looking for Professor Quirrell, I wanted to know if I'd done my homework correctly, because we have to write that essay, you know, I've already written it all of course — "
"Mione!" Harry cut in.
"Oh, right! I went to the staff room to look for him and knocked twice but no one answered so I opened the door a little to — well, I don't know why, I just did! And Filch and Snape were there and Snape was holding his robes above his knees and one of his legs was all bloody, and mangled, and it looked awful, and he was talking about that three-headed dog! So I guess the dog tore up his leg! I tried to shut the door quietly but he saw me and yelled at me! I tried to say I was only looking for Quirrell but he wouldn't listen! So I ran right here to tell you!" Hermione was nearly in tears by the time she finished. Harry put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her.
"Hey, Mione, it's okay, calm down. You'd better go back to Gryffindor Tower before someone catches you wandering the halls, okay? Thanks for telling me. Go on, go on!"
Hermione gave him a watery smile before turning and walking briskly out of sight.
Harry whirled around and rushed back into the common room. He darted over to Blaise, Draco, and Cepheus and sat himself down, telling them in a low whisper what Hermione had seen.
"He tried to get past that dog! But why?" Blaise said immediately.
"We saw him going toward the third floor! Remember? On Halloween!" Cepheus said in a hushed voice.
"He must have tried to get what the dog was guarding." Draco piped up thoughtfully. "Hermione said it was standing on a trapdoor. Maybe . . . maybe he let the troll in, as a diversion!"
"But what's the dog guarding?" Cepheus' question put all speaking on hold.
Harry went to bed that night with his head buzzing. What did Snape want? Why did he want it? And on top of it all, he had a Quidditch Match the very next day.
The next morning dawned bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious small of fried sausages and the cheery chatter of everyone looking forward to a great game.
Harry knew none of this. He was sitting in the Slytherin locker rooms, elbows on knees and head in hands. He was shaking a little.
"How am I going to do this?" he hissed to Sadie, who was curled up in his locker.
"You will do well, Harry." She replied confidently.
Harry fell silent, lost in thoughts of falling off his broom and ruining the match.
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be in the stands around the Quidditch Pitch. Many students had binoculars. Blaise, Draco, and Cepheus were seated at the Slytherin end, but Hermione felt obligated to cheer for her own House, though she promised that she really wanted Harry to catch the snitch.
The Slytherin stands were buzzing with one question: Who was their Seeker?
The Slytherin Quidditch Team was assembled in the locker rooms, getting ready. Harry had long since been dressed in his green robes; he was standing, clutching his broom. His eyes were a little glazed over.
Finally Flint stood. The room grew quiet.
"Listen up, team. No one knows that Potter is the Seeker, so we'll count on that for surprising the Gryffindors. Potter, I want you to pull a few dives, pretend like you've seen the snitch a couple times. They'll be distracted, we can score. Got it? The Gryffindor Seeker is some fifth year, I don't know his name, but he's not very good, so you'll be open for catching the snitch. Derrick, Bole, hit the Bludgers toward the Chasers, that Spinnet is pretty good. Pucey, Warrington, do whatever I say, don't question it, and don't be soft about fouling them. Bletchley," Flint stepped forward. A lanky boy who Harry knew as the Slytherin Keeper, met his gaze steadily. "If you let one goal in you're dead meat. Let's go."
Flint led the team. Next came Pucey and Warrington. Then Derrick and Bole. Then Bletchley. Finally, Harry stepped into the sunshine.
The stands seemed to gasp as one. Potter, the Seeker?
Harry came to a stop beside the rest of the team. He shaded his eyes, searching in the stands for his friends . . . there they were, waving madly. He waved back.
Madam Hooch was refereeing. She paused to ask Harry if he was supposed to be playing.
"We have Dumbledore's permission." Said Flint. Hooch gave him an angry look before stopping in the middle of the two teams, broom in hand.
"I want a nice clean game, all of you," she ordered with a look at Flint, who merely sneered. "Mount your brooms please."
This is it, Harry thought as he swung his leg over his Nimbus Two Thousand. He looked over the Quidditch team. They were all staring at him. He grinned at them.
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.
Harry kicked off hard, rising high into the air, veering away from the Chasers.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what a Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too — "
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry Professor."
Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor, was commentating the match, watched closely by McGonagall.
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint has taken the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint's flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc- no, stopped 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 — OUCH! That must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger —"
Harry tuned out the talking, searching the field for the snitch. He glanced at the Gryffindor side; their Seeker was watching him closely. Harry turned abruptly. He didn't any more pressure.
Harry hardly noticed when Gryffindor scored. He registered the fact that Bletchley would be in enormous trouble from Flint before swerving around a Beater and continuing his search.
Harry suddenly dived. The stands and the players seemed to hold still. Harry was streaking down at high speed — but he pulled away a few feet from a Beater. He'd thought he saw the snitch, but it was only a reflection from a wristwatch. Flint seized the Quaffle and scored.
"Flint scored when Potter was diving, that brings it up to ten-ten, very strange, really, Potter s only a first year, but since Terence Higgs switched to Durmstrang, I guess they're in need of a Seeker — "
"Jordan! Focus on the game!"
The game resumed, everyone keeping one eye on Harry. Harry did his best to ignore the feeling of everyone watching as he searched harder for a glint of gold that would be the snitch.
"Slytherin in possession," Jordan's voice reached his ears. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment, was that the snitch?"
Harry turned his broom so fast he almost flew off it. Pucey had dropped the Quaffle, too intent on the flash of gold that passed his head.
Harry dived downward after the flash of gold. Suddenly someone was right beside him — The Gryffindor Seeker had seen it too. Neck and neck they hurtled after the snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were doing as they hung in midair to watch. Harry was faster than the other Seeker — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, just ahead — he put on an extra burst of speed —
WHAM!
Harry veered off course, broom spinning, holding on for dear life.
"Foul!" the Slytherins screamed. The Gryffindors turned a blind eye.
The other Seeker, knowing that Harry would catch the snitch first, had rammed into Harry, sending him flying. A penalty was awarded to Gryffindor. Flint took it.
"How dare he! I can't believe that!" Hermione was screaming indignantly from the stands. Nearby Gryffindors were turning to stare at her.
"At least he didn't get the snitch! We'd have lost!" Ron Weasley said. Hermione glared at him.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" she yelled before turning and making her way down.
Blaise, Cepheus, and Draco were also yelling.
"Dirty, rotten, lousy, cheating — " Blaise fumed.
"Poor sportsmen!" Cepheus yelled.
"Imbeciles!" Draco added.
"I agree," came a familiar voice.
"Hermione! Glad you've joined us!" Blaise said, making room for her.
Up in the air, Harry was keeping his eyes peeled for the snitch, trying not to glare at the Gryffindor Seeker.
It was as he dodged a Bludger that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a second he thought he was going to fall off. He gripped the broom as tightly as he could with his hands and legs. He'd never felt anything like that.
It happened again. It was though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the game — he had half a mind to ask Flint for a time out — and then he realized that 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, every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.
Jordan 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 — Slytherins score — oh, no . . ."
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed Harry's broom acting strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
"What's Harry doing?" Blaise hissed, wringing her hands as she watched Harry.
Suddenly people were pointing at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started rolling 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 had swung off it, holding on with only one hand.
"Oh no!" Hermione whispered.
"Do you think something happened when Smith blocked him?" Draco said quietly.
"No, that takes powerful Dark Magic." Hermione said. "It takes a very powerful wizard."
Suddenly Cepheus grabbed Blaise's binoculars. Instead of looking at Harry, though, he looked at the stands.
"What are you doing?" Blaise moaned, face white.
"I knew it!" Cepheus hissed triumphantly. He shoved the binoculars at Blaise. "Look at Snape!"
Sure enough, Snape was in the teacher's box, but that wasn't the only thing. He was muttering nonstop under his breath, eyes fixed on Harry.
"He's jinxing the broom!" Hermione gasped when she took the binoculars.
"What do we?" Draco asked once he'd seen.
"Leave it to me,"
Before anyone could protest, Hermione was gone. Draco, still holding the binoculars, fixed them on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard it looked almost impossible to hang on to. The whole crowd was watching, terrified, as the Beaters from the Gryffindor team tried to catch him. But every time they drew near, Harry's broom jumped up higher. They fell below, circling, obviously planning on catching Harry if he fell. Marcus Flint, apparently oblivious to his Seeker's danger, seized the Quaffle and scored five times.
"Come on Hermione!" Draco muttered.
Hermione had fought her way across the stand where Snape stood and was now racing along the row behind him, not even stopping to say sorry when she knocked Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered an incantation. Bright blue flames shot out of her wand and lighted on Snape's cloak.
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize he was on fire, but as he stamped it out, Hermione was halfway across the stands.
Up in the air, Harry's broom stilled. The boy immediately swung up onto it, balancing himself. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Harry was speeding to the ground when the crowd saw him clap a hand to his mouth as though he was going to retch — he hit the field on two legs but fell onto his knees — coughed — and something gold fell onto his hand.
"I've got the snitch!" he yelled, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
"He didn't catch it, he swallowed it!" Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, was still shouting twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Harry hadn't broken any rules. Jordan, as well as everyone else, seemed torn between resenting Harry for being a Slytherin and admiring him for staying on his broom.
Harry knew none of this. He was in the gamekeeper's hut, being made a cup of hot chocolate. Hermione was friends with Hagrid, and she'd taken Harry and the rest of the group to his hut immediately.
"It was Snape," Draco was explaining. Hagrid had been a little reluctant about letting a Malfoy in, but when Hermione had said he was all right, Hagrid had opened his door. "We saw him with the binoculars. He was cursing your broomstick, Harry, muttering under his breath and not blinking!"
"Rubbish!" said Hagrid, making Draco jump and look at him. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
Harry shared a look with Blaise. Should they tell him? They hardly even knew him!
But it was Hermione who decided that for them.
"He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween, Hagrid! It bit him! We think he's trying to steal whatever it's guarding!"
Hagrid dropped the cup.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.
"FLUFFY?" Five voices said incredulously.
"Yeah, he's mine, I bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore then to guard the — "
Harry held his breath; but Hagrid seemed to realize what he as saying.
"Erm, forget I said that." He said uncomfortably, picking up the shards of cup. "That's top secret."
"But Snape's trying to STEAL it!" Cepheus protested.
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid!"
"I'm telling yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why yer broom acted so oddly, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now listen to me, all of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what its guardin'! That's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel — "
"Aha!" Draco cut in. "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looked furious with himself.
A/N: I had to have Hagrid in here, sorry. Did you like it? I didn't, but oh well. See, my chapters are all long now! Next chapter: Christmas! Wow!
Happy? Three chapters to make up for the time I spent writing them. More soon!
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry was to play in his first match. Against Gryffindor. If Slytherin won, they would move up to second place in the house championship.
No one but the Slytherin team had seen Harry play. Flint had decided to use Harry as a sort of secret weapon, to surprise not only the Gryffindors but the rest of the school as well. Not a word had been leaked to anybody. Except, of course, Harry's friends, whom he had told once he'd gotten on the team.
As the match drew nearer and Harry stopped eating in favor of running through the rules of Quidditch, Hermione decided he needed something to read, so she lent him /Quidditch Through The Ages/, which was a very good book. It kept Harry's mind on the match but distracted him somewhat. He could be seen reading it at all times.
The day before the match, when the five of them were out on the grounds, Hermione conjured up a bright blue fire that could be carried in a jam jar. Unfortunately, just as they started getting warm, Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that he was limping. Under the cover of the others, Hermione ducked down and scooped the flames up, putting them in her pocket.
Snape passed by them after scrutinizing their faces for a moment. They all breathed a sigh of relief.
"Why is he limping?" Hermione whispered.
"No idea."
That evening, while the three other Slytherins were making Harry concentrate on his homework, someone burst into the common room. It was Hermione. Harry noticed most of the Slytherins giving Hermione malicious glares at once. He stood up immediately and hurried over to her.
"What is it, Mione?" he said quietly.
"Oh, I just saw the most —" she suddenly seemed to notice the looks she was getting and stopped. "Maybe I should tell you outside."
Once outside the common room, Hermione began rambling.
"I was looking for Professor Quirrell, I wanted to know if I'd done my homework correctly, because we have to write that essay, you know, I've already written it all of course — "
"Mione!" Harry cut in.
"Oh, right! I went to the staff room to look for him and knocked twice but no one answered so I opened the door a little to — well, I don't know why, I just did! And Filch and Snape were there and Snape was holding his robes above his knees and one of his legs was all bloody, and mangled, and it looked awful, and he was talking about that three-headed dog! So I guess the dog tore up his leg! I tried to shut the door quietly but he saw me and yelled at me! I tried to say I was only looking for Quirrell but he wouldn't listen! So I ran right here to tell you!" Hermione was nearly in tears by the time she finished. Harry put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her.
"Hey, Mione, it's okay, calm down. You'd better go back to Gryffindor Tower before someone catches you wandering the halls, okay? Thanks for telling me. Go on, go on!"
Hermione gave him a watery smile before turning and walking briskly out of sight.
Harry whirled around and rushed back into the common room. He darted over to Blaise, Draco, and Cepheus and sat himself down, telling them in a low whisper what Hermione had seen.
"He tried to get past that dog! But why?" Blaise said immediately.
"We saw him going toward the third floor! Remember? On Halloween!" Cepheus said in a hushed voice.
"He must have tried to get what the dog was guarding." Draco piped up thoughtfully. "Hermione said it was standing on a trapdoor. Maybe . . . maybe he let the troll in, as a diversion!"
"But what's the dog guarding?" Cepheus' question put all speaking on hold.
Harry went to bed that night with his head buzzing. What did Snape want? Why did he want it? And on top of it all, he had a Quidditch Match the very next day.
The next morning dawned bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious small of fried sausages and the cheery chatter of everyone looking forward to a great game.
Harry knew none of this. He was sitting in the Slytherin locker rooms, elbows on knees and head in hands. He was shaking a little.
"How am I going to do this?" he hissed to Sadie, who was curled up in his locker.
"You will do well, Harry." She replied confidently.
Harry fell silent, lost in thoughts of falling off his broom and ruining the match.
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be in the stands around the Quidditch Pitch. Many students had binoculars. Blaise, Draco, and Cepheus were seated at the Slytherin end, but Hermione felt obligated to cheer for her own House, though she promised that she really wanted Harry to catch the snitch.
The Slytherin stands were buzzing with one question: Who was their Seeker?
The Slytherin Quidditch Team was assembled in the locker rooms, getting ready. Harry had long since been dressed in his green robes; he was standing, clutching his broom. His eyes were a little glazed over.
Finally Flint stood. The room grew quiet.
"Listen up, team. No one knows that Potter is the Seeker, so we'll count on that for surprising the Gryffindors. Potter, I want you to pull a few dives, pretend like you've seen the snitch a couple times. They'll be distracted, we can score. Got it? The Gryffindor Seeker is some fifth year, I don't know his name, but he's not very good, so you'll be open for catching the snitch. Derrick, Bole, hit the Bludgers toward the Chasers, that Spinnet is pretty good. Pucey, Warrington, do whatever I say, don't question it, and don't be soft about fouling them. Bletchley," Flint stepped forward. A lanky boy who Harry knew as the Slytherin Keeper, met his gaze steadily. "If you let one goal in you're dead meat. Let's go."
Flint led the team. Next came Pucey and Warrington. Then Derrick and Bole. Then Bletchley. Finally, Harry stepped into the sunshine.
The stands seemed to gasp as one. Potter, the Seeker?
Harry came to a stop beside the rest of the team. He shaded his eyes, searching in the stands for his friends . . . there they were, waving madly. He waved back.
Madam Hooch was refereeing. She paused to ask Harry if he was supposed to be playing.
"We have Dumbledore's permission." Said Flint. Hooch gave him an angry look before stopping in the middle of the two teams, broom in hand.
"I want a nice clean game, all of you," she ordered with a look at Flint, who merely sneered. "Mount your brooms please."
This is it, Harry thought as he swung his leg over his Nimbus Two Thousand. He looked over the Quidditch team. They were all staring at him. He grinned at them.
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.
Harry kicked off hard, rising high into the air, veering away from the Chasers.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what a Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too — "
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry Professor."
Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor, was commentating the match, watched closely by McGonagall.
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint has taken the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint's flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc- no, stopped 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 — OUCH! That must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger —"
Harry tuned out the talking, searching the field for the snitch. He glanced at the Gryffindor side; their Seeker was watching him closely. Harry turned abruptly. He didn't any more pressure.
Harry hardly noticed when Gryffindor scored. He registered the fact that Bletchley would be in enormous trouble from Flint before swerving around a Beater and continuing his search.
Harry suddenly dived. The stands and the players seemed to hold still. Harry was streaking down at high speed — but he pulled away a few feet from a Beater. He'd thought he saw the snitch, but it was only a reflection from a wristwatch. Flint seized the Quaffle and scored.
"Flint scored when Potter was diving, that brings it up to ten-ten, very strange, really, Potter s only a first year, but since Terence Higgs switched to Durmstrang, I guess they're in need of a Seeker — "
"Jordan! Focus on the game!"
The game resumed, everyone keeping one eye on Harry. Harry did his best to ignore the feeling of everyone watching as he searched harder for a glint of gold that would be the snitch.
"Slytherin in possession," Jordan's voice reached his ears. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment, was that the snitch?"
Harry turned his broom so fast he almost flew off it. Pucey had dropped the Quaffle, too intent on the flash of gold that passed his head.
Harry dived downward after the flash of gold. Suddenly someone was right beside him — The Gryffindor Seeker had seen it too. Neck and neck they hurtled after the snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were doing as they hung in midair to watch. Harry was faster than the other Seeker — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, just ahead — he put on an extra burst of speed —
WHAM!
Harry veered off course, broom spinning, holding on for dear life.
"Foul!" the Slytherins screamed. The Gryffindors turned a blind eye.
The other Seeker, knowing that Harry would catch the snitch first, had rammed into Harry, sending him flying. A penalty was awarded to Gryffindor. Flint took it.
"How dare he! I can't believe that!" Hermione was screaming indignantly from the stands. Nearby Gryffindors were turning to stare at her.
"At least he didn't get the snitch! We'd have lost!" Ron Weasley said. Hermione glared at him.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" she yelled before turning and making her way down.
Blaise, Cepheus, and Draco were also yelling.
"Dirty, rotten, lousy, cheating — " Blaise fumed.
"Poor sportsmen!" Cepheus yelled.
"Imbeciles!" Draco added.
"I agree," came a familiar voice.
"Hermione! Glad you've joined us!" Blaise said, making room for her.
Up in the air, Harry was keeping his eyes peeled for the snitch, trying not to glare at the Gryffindor Seeker.
It was as he dodged a Bludger that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a second he thought he was going to fall off. He gripped the broom as tightly as he could with his hands and legs. He'd never felt anything like that.
It happened again. It was though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the game — he had half a mind to ask Flint for a time out — and then he realized that 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, every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.
Jordan 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 — Slytherins score — oh, no . . ."
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed Harry's broom acting strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
"What's Harry doing?" Blaise hissed, wringing her hands as she watched Harry.
Suddenly people were pointing at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started rolling 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 had swung off it, holding on with only one hand.
"Oh no!" Hermione whispered.
"Do you think something happened when Smith blocked him?" Draco said quietly.
"No, that takes powerful Dark Magic." Hermione said. "It takes a very powerful wizard."
Suddenly Cepheus grabbed Blaise's binoculars. Instead of looking at Harry, though, he looked at the stands.
"What are you doing?" Blaise moaned, face white.
"I knew it!" Cepheus hissed triumphantly. He shoved the binoculars at Blaise. "Look at Snape!"
Sure enough, Snape was in the teacher's box, but that wasn't the only thing. He was muttering nonstop under his breath, eyes fixed on Harry.
"He's jinxing the broom!" Hermione gasped when she took the binoculars.
"What do we?" Draco asked once he'd seen.
"Leave it to me,"
Before anyone could protest, Hermione was gone. Draco, still holding the binoculars, fixed them on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard it looked almost impossible to hang on to. The whole crowd was watching, terrified, as the Beaters from the Gryffindor team tried to catch him. But every time they drew near, Harry's broom jumped up higher. They fell below, circling, obviously planning on catching Harry if he fell. Marcus Flint, apparently oblivious to his Seeker's danger, seized the Quaffle and scored five times.
"Come on Hermione!" Draco muttered.
Hermione had fought her way across the stand where Snape stood and was now racing along the row behind him, not even stopping to say sorry when she knocked Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered an incantation. Bright blue flames shot out of her wand and lighted on Snape's cloak.
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize he was on fire, but as he stamped it out, Hermione was halfway across the stands.
Up in the air, Harry's broom stilled. The boy immediately swung up onto it, balancing himself. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Harry was speeding to the ground when the crowd saw him clap a hand to his mouth as though he was going to retch — he hit the field on two legs but fell onto his knees — coughed — and something gold fell onto his hand.
"I've got the snitch!" he yelled, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
"He didn't catch it, he swallowed it!" Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, was still shouting twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Harry hadn't broken any rules. Jordan, as well as everyone else, seemed torn between resenting Harry for being a Slytherin and admiring him for staying on his broom.
Harry knew none of this. He was in the gamekeeper's hut, being made a cup of hot chocolate. Hermione was friends with Hagrid, and she'd taken Harry and the rest of the group to his hut immediately.
"It was Snape," Draco was explaining. Hagrid had been a little reluctant about letting a Malfoy in, but when Hermione had said he was all right, Hagrid had opened his door. "We saw him with the binoculars. He was cursing your broomstick, Harry, muttering under his breath and not blinking!"
"Rubbish!" said Hagrid, making Draco jump and look at him. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
Harry shared a look with Blaise. Should they tell him? They hardly even knew him!
But it was Hermione who decided that for them.
"He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween, Hagrid! It bit him! We think he's trying to steal whatever it's guarding!"
Hagrid dropped the cup.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.
"FLUFFY?" Five voices said incredulously.
"Yeah, he's mine, I bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore then to guard the — "
Harry held his breath; but Hagrid seemed to realize what he as saying.
"Erm, forget I said that." He said uncomfortably, picking up the shards of cup. "That's top secret."
"But Snape's trying to STEAL it!" Cepheus protested.
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid!"
"I'm telling yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why yer broom acted so oddly, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now listen to me, all of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what its guardin'! That's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel — "
"Aha!" Draco cut in. "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looked furious with himself.
A/N: I had to have Hagrid in here, sorry. Did you like it? I didn't, but oh well. See, my chapters are all long now! Next chapter: Christmas! Wow!
Happy? Three chapters to make up for the time I spent writing them. More soon!