CHAPTER ELEVEN
QUIDDITCH
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would finally have his chance to witness his first match: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If one or the other won, they would move up, cause as things stood, Gryffindor was currently in second place in the House Championship, Slytherin obviously in first.
It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he or Ron'd have gotten through some of their homework without her.
Whenever he could spare the time from his studies, Harry read his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages he had gotten from Madam Hooch on his birthday, which turned out to be a very interesting read. Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.
Best of all, Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before the first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape, in a rather bad mood, crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking (in Ron's case) for a reason to tell them off anyway.
"What's that you've got there, Potter?"
It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Slytherin."
As Snape limped away, Harry asked his friends, "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"
"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.
The library was very noisy that afternoon. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let Ron copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway. Harry's homework, however, was more well thought out and well-written ("Well done, Harry.").
When his studying was done, Harry decided to get Quidditch Through the Ages back. Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.
"Better you than us," Ron said, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.
He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.
Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside — and a horrible scene met his eyes.
Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.
"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"
Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but —
"POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with shock as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.
"I just wondered if I could have my book back. You see —"
"Say no more," said Snape, regaining his composure, "I made a mistake in thinking it was a library book. I saw your name inside it." He handed the book back to Harry, "I apologize."
"It's alright, sir," Harry smiled, as he took his book back. "Anyone can make a mistake, the important thing is how to learn from them."
"Well said," Snape nodded in approval, he then became serious indicating his leg, "Did you see anything, incidentally?"
"No, not especially," Harry replied regarding his Head of House's wounds. "I thought it best not to concern myself with something as trivial as that. That said though, I hope you feel better soon, sir."
"Thank you for being honest, Potter. And I appreciate your sentiments about my well-being. You may go."
Harry then left and sprinted back upstairs to the library, where Ron and Hermione awaited him.
"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry caught up with them and showed his book, Harry also appeared to be out of breath. "What's the matter?"
In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.
"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him — he's after whatever it's guarding!"
"And I'd bet my wand he let that troll in, to make a diversion!" Ron said.
Hermione's eyes were wide."No — he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice to some, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."
"Honestly, Hermione, I think you both think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"
They all went to bed with their heads buzzing with the same question. Harry tried his hardest to empty his mind — he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match to watch in a few hours — but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.
The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.
"You've got to eat some breakfast."
"I don't want anything."
"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.
"I'm not hungry."
Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking towards the field to watch the match.
"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Think of what your mother would say if she saw you starve yourself. She'd say the same thing we're saying right now. And another thing…"
"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, feeling better. "But I think I get the idea." He then made himself a plate and finally ate as he watched Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.
Neville, Ron and Hermione joined Harry, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. And on either side of the pitch, there were banners that either said Gryffindor all Fired Up or Slytherin Puts the 'in' in Winners.
Meanwhile, in one locker room, all of the Gryffindor team members were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).
Wood cleared his throat for silence.
"Okay, men," he said.
"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.
"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."
"The big one," said Fred Weasley.
"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.
"We know your speech by heart," Fred told Oliver, "Oliver, we were on the team last year."
"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."
He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."
"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
They followed out of the locker room, hoping their knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.
Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.
"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him.
"Mount your brooms, please."
Every player did so.
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.
"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."
The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move 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 and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"
Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.
"Budge up there, move along."
"Hagrid!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.
"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"
"Nope," said Ron. "There hasn't been much to do yet."
"I hope the two teams have kept outta trouble, though," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the match.
Way up above them, both Seekers were gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of Wood's game plan.
"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said to the Gryffindor team Seeker, who Harry learned was named Kenneth Towler. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be. Think you can handle that, Towler?"
"Captain," he said with a grin, "it would be my genuine pleasure." *
When Angelina had scored, Towler had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once they caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but they dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.
"All right there, Towler?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.
"Just peachy, Fred." Kenneth replied, nodding his head.
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?"
A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.
Harry saw it with his binoculars. In a great rush of excitement, Kenneth dived downward after the streak of gold and the Slytherin Seeker Harry learned about earlier, Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.
Neither Higgs nor Towler had an advantage, they were, as Harry saw evenly matched — they could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead — they put on an extra spurt of speed —
WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Towler on purpose, and his broom spun off course, which caused him to start holding on for dear life.
"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.
Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"
"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron. "Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"
"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.
Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.
"They oughta change the rules, Flint coulda knocked Towler outta the air."
Harry, having played his share of soccer, also agreed.
"Hear, hear."
Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. "So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating —"
"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul —"
"Jordan, I'm warning you —"
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
It was as Towler dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened.
Harry's forehead began to burn up, for a split second, he collapsed as though the sun was burning his scalp. He'd never felt anything like this. As he tried to ease his pain, it happened again. It was as though something inside him was fighting his own mind.
It was a minute later that Ron noticed this, "What is it, Harry?"
"My scar, it's burning up."
"I'll take yeh ter me hut, Harry." Hagrid said, helping him to his feet.
"No," said Harry, "I have to see the entire match. Please, Hagrid."
"Alright" Hagrid said uneasily, "if yeh insist."
Lee 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. Both teams were now tied and evenly matched, worse even still was the fact the Golden Snitch was still not in eyeshot. At that moment, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking frantically at the crowd.
"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.
"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape — look."
Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.
"He's doing something — perhaps muttering a curse," said Hermione.
"What should we do?"
"Leave it to me."
Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Meanwhile while this was going on Flint and his team seized a Quaffle and scored five times.
"Come on, Hermione," he muttered desperately.
Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row — Snape would never know what had happened. It was enough.
By the time Hermione returned, she saw something gold in one hand.
"I've got the Snitch!" Towler shouted, waving it above his head.
"No fair!" Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference.
Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though, as he was taken to Hagrid's hut. When he awoke, he saw a wet rag on his forehead and asked what happened, he was told everything and was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.
"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.
"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."
Hagrid dropped the teapot.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.
"Fluffy?"
"That thing has a name," asked Hermione.
"Yeah — he's mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —"
"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.
"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."
"But Snape's trying to steal it."
"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.
The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed their minds about Snape ever so slightly.
"I know a curse when I see one, Hagrid," Hermione continued, "I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"
"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's forehead acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel —"
"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looked furious with himself.
Author's notes:
* So that was my eleventh chapter of the Sorcerer's Stone, and as always with every one of my stories, let me know what you all think so far by leaving your feedback in the comments area.
* The Harry Potter franchise, its characters, elements and everything else are owned and were created by J. K. Rowling.
That said, until the next chapter my fellow Wizards, Witches and Muggles:
I'm M. R. Parkerson signing off…
