Chapter Nineteen: Quidditch

Malcolm sat glumly at breakfast as Ron and Hermione joined him. Too many confusing things had happened. He decided to voice his feelings.

"Do you guys get the feeling that something's going on?"

Ron gave him a questioning look.

"I mean, I keep getting the feeling that somebody's hiding something?"

Hermione smirked. "Of course they're hiding something. Remember the dog?"

"You mean Fluffy?" Malcolm smirked at Hermione's surprise.

"That thing has a name?"

"Yeah. I mentioned it to Hagrid. Fluffy belongs to him. He said he lent it to Dumbledore to um, er, um, never mind."

This time it was Ron who smirked. "That's what Hagrid said exactly. 'Um, er, um, never mind'."

"Then that explains the trap door. Whatever it's guarding must be down there."

Ron frowned. "When I went to follow the two of you, I had to hide. I heard someone coming. It was Snape. He walked past where I was hiding. And he was heading toward the third floor corridor."

Malcolm paused. "I think he tried to get past Fluffy." He paused again. "Now I'm wondering what it is they're hiding."

"It could be related," Ron suggested, "to the break-in at Gringotts."

"When did that happen?" Hermione asked.

Malcolm sat up suddenly as he remembered something. "Ron, you know about Gringotts. Do they always hold the keys to the vaults?"

"Only when they're empty, or when they're asked to pass the key to someone else." Ron eyed Malcolm curiously. "Why?"

"Hagrid left my key at Gringotts. But there was a problem because Hagrid had left the wrong key by mistake."

Hermione smiled. "It should be obvious what happened. Hagrid emptied the vault then returned the wrong key. He gave them your key by mistake and left the vault key for you."

"I wonder what they're hiding," Ron mused.

"This is it, men" Oliver Wood said.

"And women," Angelina Johnson, the chaser, added.

"The big one," Fred continued.

"The one we've been waiting for," George noted.

Can you tell who was on the team last year?

"I just want to play," responded Malcolm.

The whistle, taking note of its cue, blew. The game began.

Malcolm was in the air immediately. He flew high, to be above the action, and began to search for the snitch.

"Oooh, nice broom." Draco Malfoy was hovering on his own broom, directly behind Malcolm.

"At least I know how to use it, Malfoy."

"Malfoy? Malcolm, I thought we were closer than that. You should call me by my first name."

"Do you mean Draco as in Draco the Wacko? Or Draco as in Draco the big Fake- O?"

"How droll, Malcolm. And not very original."

"I guess you do hear them a lot."

Malcolm smiled as Draco's face flushed with anger.

Draco sneered. "Just watch, you stupid foreigner. I'll show you how this game is played."

"OK."

Malcolm turned his broom around and sat there, watching Draco. He didn't move but he did keep smiling. After a short while, Draco flew to another part of the field. Malcolm followed him. Draco flew higher. Malcolm followed. Draco flew lower. So did Malcolm.

"STOP THAT," Draco yelled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop following me around."

"But you were going to show me how the game was played."

I know what I'm doing is childish, but sometimes childish things are the easiest way to annoy people. Anyway, now I'm going to do something mean.

"Excuse me, Draco. Could you show me later? I'm going to catch the snitch."

Malcolm flew across the field as fast as he could, then aimed downward until he was below most of the players. He made several zigzags along the way just to make it look real then looked behind to make sure Draco was following him. Malcolm was grinning when he looked forward again and began to fly upward. That was when the flash of gold passed before his eyes, and Malcolm turned his broom sharply. What was a joke was now real. He really was chasing after the snitch. He followed it through a crowd of players without getting hit and swerved around a bludger, then grabbed for the golden ball.

"YAAAH-UGH." Malcolm's cheerful shout ended when the broom suddenly stopped, almost knocking him off. Then Draco Malfoy literally ran into him and bounced off. When he recovered, Malfoy could not see the snitch anywhere but he could see Malcolm was in trouble. He smiled.

Malcolm tried to get his broom moving but it began to buck like a wild horse, turning and twisting every which way. Malcolm held on for dear life, one hand holding on to his broom, the other raised in the air as though he was a bronco buster. (See previous analogy.) Somehow it worked and he managed to stay on despite the rambunctious actions of his broom.

A voice called. It was Fred, flying as close to him as he could get. "MALCOLM, GEORGE IS BELOW YOU. DROP OFF YOUR BROOM AND USE BOTH HANDS TO GRAB FOR HIS."

"I CAN'T USE BOTH HANDS," Malcolm called back as the broom prepared for another fit.

"WHY NOT?"

"I HAVE THE SNITCH IN MY RIGHT HAND."

Madam Hooch heard Malcolm's shout and blew her whistle, announcing the end of the game. Freed from having to play, all the team members converged to help Malcolm when suddenly the broom stopped.

"Malcolm?" Angelina asked nervously.

"I don't know," Malcolm said cautiously. "The broom seems fine now."

"Let's all get down quickly," Oliver Wood suggested. "Just in case."

Malcolm was relieved when he landed safely. He climbed off his broom and turned to face Madam Hooch.

"Malcolm, I AM happy to see that you are fine, but if you don't show me the snitch then your team forfeits the game and you are banned from playing."

Jeezel, she thinks I would lie about something like that.

Malcolm grinned and opened his hand. The golden snitch was there. Malcolm never heard Madam Hooch's official announcement because six teammates were hugging him for all he was worth.

"It was Snape," Hermione told him afterward. "He was casting a hex. I saw him. He kept mouthing words and he didn't blink. Your broom returned to normal after I set fire to his robes to distract him."

Ron laughed. "It worked, too. I was watching. Even Professor Quirrell in the top row was distracted by it."

Malcolm frowned. "I know he hates me. I just wish I knew why."

If I knew why he hated me, then I could really annoy him.

Malcolm resumed frowning. "Maybe we should talk to Hagrid."

"Yer daft, Malcolm. I'll grant Snape don't like you, but he don't really like anyone. An' he's a Hogwarts teacher. If Dumbledore trusts him tha's enough for me, and it should be enough fer you three."

"But Hagrid," Hermione complained.

"No buts, Hermione," Hagrid firmly stated. "Yer wrong about Professor Snape."

"If you say so, Hagrid." Hermione made it obvious she wasn't convinced.

Malcolm decided to change the subject, sort of. "Hagrid, how's Fluffy doing?"

Hagrid gave Malcolm a frown. "Don't you go botherin' that dog again. It took me hours to get 'im to calm down." He gave a gruff sigh. "Most times music just puts him to sleep. But he really liked that song an' got all worked up when ye all left. Malcolm, I won't ask how ye came to be there, I know ye'll lie anyway, I just want to know how ye knew to sing?"

Uh oh. He wants a moral introspective. I know what I'll do. I'll confuse him by telling the truth.

"Well," Malcolm began, "I don't know. I remember somebody saying that animals like to be sung to. I wasn't really thinking." He swallowed hard. The truth was becoming a terrible thing to tell. "Um, it just happened. Dang it, Hagrid, it was a giant three-headed dog. We didn't have time to make plans."

"Now calm down. I was just curious. Ye do some strange things, Malcolm, and I know it's because yer an American and bein' raised a muggle. Ye learned things different."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, he does do weird things."

"Name three," Malcolm said angrily.

"Singing to Fluffy," Hagrid pointed out.

"Making fun of strangers for no reason," Hermione replied.

"Anything you do," Ron smirked.

"Only Six weeks until Christmas," Malcolm noted darkly.

Hagrid laughed. "Don't be so dreary, Malcolm. An' don't worry about what's going on. It's all in the good hands of Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, uh, er, uh, never mind about that."

"Nicholas Flamel?" Malcolm frowned in thought. "Why is that name familiar?"

"Don' you three go botherin' about that. Ye hear me."

"If you insist," Hermione said sincerely.

Hagrid stared hard at the young girl. "Fer a moment there, ye sounded just like Malcolm."