Quidditch Match

The first of November dawned cold and misty. Inside the Slytherin first year rooms it was still cozy. Draco woke early as usual and as usual Blaise was up already, doing that -- what did he call it, kata? Draco, Harry, and Ron now considered Blaise to be a friend. He was a bit of a mystery though. Blaise didn't say much and spent most of his time alone. Draco made up his mind to get to know Blaise better. But first there was something Draco really wanted to know. He waited for Blaise to finish.

"Good morning, Blaise," Draco said. "Can I ask you something?"

Blaise, settling on his bed, raised an eyebrow at him. "You didn't really give me a choice there, did you?"

"Uh, yes well, how did you find those secret passages?"

"Actually, I'm surprised more people don't know about them. They're obvious if you look."

"I haven't seen any before," Draco said. Blaise merely shrugged. "You said they go all over the castle, right?"

"That's right," Blaise nodded.

Draco got a glint in his eyes. "Does that include the Gryffindor dormitories?"

Blaise stared blankly, "Yes it does," Draco began rubbing his hands together in glee. "But I should warn you, the Weasley twins know the passages very well. It would be very difficult to get in there without alerting them."

"Bah! It would be worth it," Draco crowed.

"If you say so," Blaise rose and walked to the door. "Just don't get caught," he turned and left for breakfast.

November progressed and became even colder. Frost now appeared on the ground every morning. The dormitories and most of the classrooms were warm but the halls became icy. Worst was the potions class, where all the students would crowd around the cauldrons to stay warm. Snape still ignored Harry. In fact he acted even more surly than usual. He also seemed to be limping for some reason.

Then the Quidditch season began. The first Quidditch match of the year was Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The Slytherin team had actually managed to keep Harry a secret. The day of the match came far too quickly for Harry. He was so nervous he couldn't eat.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said "You need to eat something. Seekers are the best targets for the other team and you'll be flying against my brothers. I know how they play. Believe me; you'll need your strength."

"Just a bit of toast, then," Harry said morosely.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Draco said cheerfully. "I'll go out on the field with a net in case you fall."

Harry gave him a look, "Thanks a lot, Draco."

"No problem," Draco added.

Blaise sat by them but said nothing.

Around eleven o'clock, most of the school had gathered on the Quidditch stands. The encouraging words of his friends, such as it was, were forgotten by Harry as he stepped out onto the field. Lee Jordan called out the players names, hesitating briefly on Potter. A murmur run through the crowd; much like it did on the night of the sorting, Harry thought to himself. The Gryffindors were outraged. But there was nothing they could do about it. Madam Hooch appeared to referee. The players mounted their brooms and the game began.

Out in the stands, Draco, Ron, and Blaise watched avidly through their binoculars as Harry swooped through the players searching for that elusive flicker of the snitch. They weren't the only ones watching, of course. Nearly every eye was on Harry, the shock of seeing a first year playing (and not just any first year either) hadn't quite worn off yet. Everyone soon saw why he was allowed to play. He was good. No, not just good; he was a natural.

Eventually, everyone got over the shock and got into the excitement they had come for, the game itself. It was a fierce competition for sure. Both teams fought hard though neither seemed to get ahead.

As the game wore on, few people were watching Harry. But his friends noticed when something started to go wrong.

"What in the world is Harry doing?" Ron exclaimed. Harry's broom was going wild. It looked like it was trying to escape Harry's grasp, and nearly succeeding.

"I don't think that Harry's doing," Draco said wryly. "Someone else must be causing that."

"Who? And why?" Ron gasped. By now, others had noticed Harry's predicament. Many students were pointing and shouting. Chasers Pucey and Cooling attempted to get Harry down but the broom only rose higher.

"I think I know. The 'who' part, at least," Blaise calmly said, peering though his binoculars. "Take a look at the teacher's stand. It's Professor Quirrell."

"You're joking," both chorused together.

"Look at him. He's staring at Harry, muttering and not blinking. He's jinxing Harry's broom."

Now the game was largely forgotten as everyone watched Harry's wild broom. Pucey and Cooling circled beneath in case he should fall. The Gryffindor chasers scored several goals, unnoticed.

"That can't be right," Draco insisted. "Quirrell is afraid of his own shadow. He wouldn't hurt a flea."

"But if you're not a flea, beware," Blaise noted.

"Wait a minute," Ron interrupted. "Look three rows down. Professor Snape is doing the same thing." It was true. Both were staring toward Harry, unblinking.

"Perhaps, one is jinxing while the other is counter-jinxing?" Blaise suggested. Harry was now hanging upside from his broom.

"Well we need to stop both of them," Draco declared. "Come on!"

The three boys dashed down the stairs and over to the teacher's stand, just under the seats. Moments later, both professors broke their gaze on Harry and the jinxes cast on him. Harry managed to scramble back into position. Then Harry waved a hand in front of his face, as though he were swatting a fly. Moments later he cried, "I've got the snitch!" The match ended in total chaos. Slytherin won: one hundred ninety to fifty.