Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
Chapter 13
Harry made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, grumbling under his breath. The first Quidditch match was coming up soon and the team was training harder, longer and in all conditions. Harry hadn't been properly dry for weeks and was beginning to curse the day he went after Neville. Flint, the captain, was a complete fanatic. After being yelled at for coming late (even though he was at least five minutes early), Harry was made to look for the Snitch with two beaters, Montague and Bole, hitting bludgers towards him as hard as they possibly could. Harry had already been hit dozens of times and was aching all over. Harry had to admit though that Flint's insane plan was at least partly working. Harry, even though he was not ducking instinctively, was at least becoming immune to the knocks as his body was so bruised it couldn't possibly get any worse. The beater's aims were amazingly accurate. Every time they managed to hit bludgers straight at Harry and at the same time hit him over the head with their bats while making it appear to be an accident.
Just when he felt that he would drop from his broom in exhaustion, Harry spotted the snitch and plummeted downwards. He pulled out of his dive inches from the ground with the snitch clasped firmly in his hand. Unfortunately, this was not good enough for Flint.
"That took you thirteen minutes! Way to long. You get it down to five or else you're of the team. Absolutely useless! And you two worthless idiots," he spat, turning on the beaters. "How could you let him catch it? Your aim is miserable, I want at least five Gryffindors in the hospital wing on the match on Friday. Gang up on them and hit them as hard as you can. Knock them off their brooms. I don't care if they've got the Quaffle or not. I don't care if they're not in scoring distance. I don't give a damn about the rules. Like any self respecting Slytherin I'm planning to cheat. We have won for the past seven years now and every time we've never had less than eight fouls. Hopefully, praise Salazar, this year we'll break the record of sixteen. Now that would be an achievement to be proud of. Even better, of course, would be to cheat and get away with it, but Hooch is too good, she sees everything. Even so, I insist on steamrolling Gryffindor."
"Calm down Marcus," said Adrian Pucey to Flint, who was hyperventilating. "There's no way we won't win. We Slytherins are experts on getting what we want. We were busy nicking the silverware when the Gryffs were sucking their thumbs and crying for mummy. We are masters at cheating, lying, blackmail. Anything remotely illegal. The Gryffindorks don't stand a chance."
"Maybe, but we should stay on our guard nonetheless. Even the best-laid plans go astray. I know nothing of the new Gryffindor Seeker. None of my spies managed to get me any information."
"Probably cause they don't have one," said Bletchley complacently.
"The Gryffindors would never forfeit a game. They must have one. I want everyone to keep a look out. For today practise is over, so leave and keep alert for any rumours circulating the school."
Wincing in pain, Harry made his way down to the dorms, promising himself that he would give up Quidditch as soon as he possibly could. If he wanted to get hit repeatedly he would have stayed in Little Whinging with Dudley. Although Harry had to admit it was better to be on the Slytherin team than any other. Not only were you guaranteed to win, but you also didn't have the extra hazard of being of being hexed in the corridors. In the week leading up to the match the Gryffindor team was never seen without a large group of friends acting as bodyguards. This didn't stop the Slytherins from cursing them though. Fred Weasley had been hospitalised twice so far and Katie Bell had a sight disorder charm placed on her and kept bumping into walls.
Harry had visited Fred in the hospital to make sure there were no hard feelings. When he arrived (and managed to sneak past Madam Pomfrey who wouldn't let any Slytherins near Fred) he found both twins plotting on how to retaliate. Never one to miss an opportunity, Harry tried to eavesdrop but they caught sight of him before he could hear anything important. After assuring the twins that this was the case and that he hadn't had anything to do with Fred's 'accident', the twins welcomed Harry with open arms and proceeded to babble on about all the pranks they had played over the years. After regaling Harry with stories of McGonnagal staggering around the Great Hall singing about Goblins and doing a strip tease on the table (She was drunk out of her mind after having vodka slipped into her drink) they began talking about the up coming match.
Although Harry and the twins continued to be friends, the relationship between their two houses was at its worst. The Gryffindors, though not hopeful about the outcome of the match, were trying to put up a brave front, backed by most of Hufflepuff and some of Ravenclaw. Fights broke out regularly. The Slytherins provoked the Gryffs 24-7 and, as usual, they only had to say a couple of well thought out words for the Gryffs to lose their tempers and launch out in a physical attack.
Not only the tensions between students but also teachers were high. McGonnagal was stressed out trying to prevent the fighting while Snape was enjoying himself immensely, dishing out insults left, right and centre or, when he was feeling particularily vindictive, using the subtle art of sarcasm to terrify or infuriate everyone around him. Professor Sprout, an ex-hufflepuff, ran at the mere sight of him. The students, too, were walking in fear, while the Slytherins were spurred onto new heights by his excellent example. All the Slytherins looked up to Snape. He was very powerful and his insults were works of art. He could threaten, connive, manipulate, blackmail or bribe his way into or out of any situation. For the Slytherins, his lessons not only taught them potions, but also the skills of intimidation. Especially sarcasm, which was Snape's favourite method of verbal torture.
The day of the match dawned very bright and cold. All the Slytherins were in excellent moods and wishing Harry good luck and recommending different ways of cheating. Terence Higgs, the main seeker, had 'accidentally' lost his broom, thrown up and, on his way to the hospital wing, fallen down the stairs and broken his leg. Wanting to remain alive and intact and knowing when to cut his losses, he had admitted defeat and had passed on his position to Harry, who, while thrilled, was also extremely nervous. Draco was not helping. After assuring him that the most serious accidents always happened to the seekers, Draco kindly informed Harry that, seeing as he was a beginner, there was a bet going that he wouldn't last more than half an hour. Blaise, meanwhile, was trying to force feed him.
"You've got to eat some breakfast!"
"I don't want anything," said Harry sulkily.
"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Blaise, waving the bread in his face.
"You need to keep up your strength Harry," drawled Draco. "If we lose every single Slytherin will be out for your blood."
"Well, if you put it like that," said Harry paling and started to shove cereal down his throat.
"See, I can always get him to do what I want," said Draco, smugly. Blaise glared and stuck her tongue out at him.
"Honestly, you're so immature," drawled Draco, with a long-suffering sigh. Blaise just hexed him and got on with her meal.
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out by the stands around the Quidditch pitch. In the changing rooms, Harry and the rest of the team were pulling on their green and black robes. Flint cleared his throat for silence.
"Ok, I don't know how to get this through your thick heads but I'll try to make it clear for you. This is the best team we've had for years so if we don't win I will hunt you down and skin you alive. Literally. Right, let's move it people. Montague, Bole, you had better get at least two Gryffindors out of the game. Chasers, get the Quaffle or I will kill you. Potter?" threats seemed to fail him. "Just catch the fucking snitch."
Shaking with nerves, Harry followed the rest of the team out onto the Quidditch pitch to loud cheers from their housemates. Madame Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.
"Now I want a nice clean game, all of you," she said once they were all gathered around her. Harry didn't know why she bothered saying anything. She must have realised by now, after so many years in the school, that Slytherin would never fight fair. The teams just glared at each other, sizing up the opposition. The mysterious Gryffindor Seeker turned out to be a fourth year Harry vaguely recognised as Edward or Edmund Beech. He had never struck Harry as a Quidditch enthusiast. In fact, he looked like the kind of boy that was useless at any sport. He seemed absolutely terrified, as if he would turn and run at any moment.
"On my whistle, three, two, one," Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high into the air. They were off.
"And the Quaffle is immediately taken by Adrian Pucey of Slytherin," the Weasley twin's friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentating, closely watched by Professor McGonnagal. "And he's really belting along up there, nice dive around Katie Bell, off up the field and-OUCH, that must of hurt, hit on the back of the head by a bludger-sent his way by Fred Weasley-nice play by Gryffindor beater- and Johnson in possession, speeding towards the gaol posts-shoots-Fuck! she misses."
"Jordan!"
"Sorry Professor, it just slipped out,"
Way up above the rest of the players, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the snitch. He was following Flint's game plan that was basically "Keep out of the way unless you want the other team to beat you to a pulp. The first thing they'll try to do is take you out." Staring around for the snitch, Harry didn't have much to do. For a while he amused himself by listening to the commentary but that tended to be nothing but insults directed towards the Slytherin players. The team was beginning to play dirty. Alicia Spinnet was in the hospital wing and George Weasley was sporting a broken nose and a rather dazed expression. The score was 50-20 to Slytherin. They definitely seemed to be in control of the game. Feeling very smug Harry sent a threatening glare at the other Seeker who cowered away from it. So much for Gryffindor bravery thought Harry. How pathetic. Just as he dodged a bludger his broom gave a frightening lurch. For a split second he thought he was going to fall and gripped the handle tightly with both hands. It happened again. It was as if the broom was trying to buck him off, but Nimbus Two Thousands just didn't do that. Harry tried to turn back to the goal posts; he had half a mind to ask Flint to call time out- and then he realised 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 making violent swishing movements which almost unseated him.
Lee was still commentating. "Slytherin in possession, unfortunately. Flint passes Spinnet-passes Bell- ready to shoot and-YES! Hit hard in the face by a bludger, hope it broke his nose. Go Gryffindor! Our beaters have some aim huh? Oh damn, Pucey scores, 70-30 to Slytherin. Lousy scum,"
The Slytherins were cheering, taking no notice of Lee's commentating or Harry's broom that was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game and towards the dark and threatening edges of the forbidden forest.
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom started to roll over and over with him just managing to hang on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and thrown Harry off. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand. The Gryffindors were all staring in shock. Fred and George flew up and started circling Harry, obviously trying to catch him if he fell. Never one to miss an opportunity, Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored ten times without anyone realising. The other Slytherins, realising that it took dark magic to tamper with a broom and that someone had been jinxing it, began searching the crowd for the culprit. Montague, seeing both Snape and Quirrel staring at Harry and muttering under their breaths, hit a bludger at Quirrel, while blocking Snape's line of sight with his broom.
Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back onto his broom. As he was speeding to the ground he saw a faint glitter in front of him and, sticking out his arm, felt the snitch fall into his hand. Landing on the pitch on all fours he raised his hand and shouted,
"I've caught it! Slytherin win!"
The match ended in total confusion. Professor McGonnagal was seen leaving the pitch in tears while Lee Jordan grudgingly called out the results. Slytherin won, 220 points to 40. The Gryffindors were all convinced that it had been an act, and that Harry hadn't actually been in danger of falling off at all. The Slyths were of mixed minds but didn't give a damn about anything except the fact that they won. The Slytherin team though, knew that it was real. As they hurried Harry to the changing rooms Montague quickly told him his suspicions.
"It was either Snape or Quirrel who did it, or both. Though personally I think Snape is the only one with enough power to curse a Nimbus Two Thousand."
"Why the hell would Snape try and kill his own Seeker. He wants Slytherin to win just as much as the rest of us," said Bletchley. "He is also too subtle to kill him off so messily and in public like that. He was probably saying the counter curse. He has no reason to want Potter dead."
"Oh, he has a reason alright," said Flint darkly. "Though I doubt he'd try something so risky, especially under Dumbledore's nose,"
"Why, what reason does he have?" asked Harry bewildered. No one answered him. Just muttered something under their breaths and sidled off as Blaise and Draco came into view.
"Oh my god, are you alright?" asked Blaise worriedly.
"I'm fine, but just listen to this," replied Harry and proceeded to tell them all that the other members had said.
"They're right you know. Snape does have a reason to kill you," said Draco. "I'm almost certain that Snape is a deatheater, though no one is sure if he was loyal or not."
"You mean he served Voldemort? How do you know this?"
"There's a reason why everyone says us Malfoy's are dark wizards," said Draco bitterly and refused to say anymore. Instead he changed the subject to the party the Slytherins were preparing in celebration of their victory. Realising he'd get nothing more out of him, Harry half heartedly joined in while his brain tried to make sense of all he had heard. He didn't believe that Snape was the one who had tried to kill him. He'd always seemed to like Harry and always favoured him in class. Harry was also convinced that Snape would have dozens of ways to get rid of him without being so obvious. And Dumbledore would hardly hire a loyal Deatheater, at least Harry hoped not. One thing was definite though. Someone was out to get him and it would be best if he was prepared. Walking up to the castle with his friends he promised himself that he would read up on curses and find someone to teach him Occlumency. After all, it might come in handy.
A/N Another chapter finished. Sorry it took so long. By the way, I need a beta reader so if anyone's interested just e-mail me or leave a review. Thanks.
Jeni Black: Don't worry, no way am I going to do that. Hermione won't be involved at all.
Akuma-sama: I realise that it's a little over the top, but I'm not trying to be 100% accurate. In my version Nundus are a bit easier to bring down. Anyway, I rewrote it so that it was all three of them that stunned it. (After all, the Malfoy heir would probably be quite powerful) Dumbledore is another thing entirely. To me, at least, Dumbledore acts the way he does because he himself is scared out of his mind and is just trying to get his orders obeyed, not actually thinking them through. After all, as you said, a nundu wandering around with hundreds of students is not an ideal situation. Dumbledore is just completely stressed out. I was going to make this clear later on in the book but I thought I might as well tell you now.
If you still have problems with my story then you can leave a review. I admit that all your points are valid and would be pleased to know of anything else I can correct. Although I'm not promising that I'll change everything for you. Yours is the only complaint I've had so far and, quite frankly, if you have a real problem with it then you can just stop reading. Thanks, though, for taking the time to review. I will try not to give harry super powers in future and not make Dumbledore too out of character.