You're a protagonist Harry
Chapter 28 – Anything for a friend
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"He's dead! Oh sweet Merlin he's dead! I was only joking! I didn't mean when I told him not to die! I never thought this would happen!" Ron wailed as they watched Harry hit the ground.
"He's not dead!" Hermione cried, half out of shock and half relief. "Oh thank god. For a second I thought he was…" she couldn't even say it out loud.
"He's alive? Oh! Oh, um, uh, can we uh, just forget what I was saying just now?"
The girl with the bush on her head turned the ginger a look that made so many promises, "no," none of which he was going to like.
"What's, ah… what's going on down there?"
Turning her binoculars back to the field she surveyed the actors in play. "Wood's down there. He must be conscious again. So is Madam Hooch. He's—he's getting back on the broom! What is… there's something wrong with his arm."
"Which one?" Ron demanded.
"His throwing arm. He's—he's switched it. He's using it to hold his broom, but it looks like it's hurting him."
"Ah great! They don't have a backup seeker. If Harry goes out, Slytherin can drag this game on as long as they want until they win."
"What is he thinking? Where's Madam Pomphrey? Why isn't she doing something?"
"I don't think she's here?"
"WHAT!" the bush with the girl screamed. "Why not? She's supposed to be the healer. Where else could they possibly need her right now?"
Wherever it was, she was nowhere in sight, and Harry was obviously injured. So obviously it was impossible not to attract predators.
Almost ignoring the quaffle completely the Slytherin team went after Harry. The Rune ball was still playing third bludger, but Harry was quick to catch up. He failed to capture it however when Flint checked him from the side.
His weak grip on his broom sent him careening over the heads of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, leaving the Rune ball wide open for Malfoy, or it would have if not for the bludger that knocked it out of his reach just in the nick of time.
The one that followed it nearly took him off his broom and by that time Harry was after the ball again Gryffindor had scored another two goals as Lee Jordan excitedly announced.
Giving up chasing Harry the Slytherin team returned to their positions, leaving Malfoy to duel with Harry over the Rune ball as the others tried to bully the Chasers and make up points.
It was a narrow race for the magical construct. Draco tried to use his superior grip to check Harry into the stands again, but Harry was ready and pulled a barrel roll over him, nearly sending the blonde into the stands and gaining a few precious inches.
The ball was almost within his grasp when it happened again. A sudden jolt, a jerk. The broom bucked and for a second time he was forced to cling for dear life.
"No, no, no! It's happening again!" cried Hermione.
"What the bloody hell is going on?" exclaimed Ron. "He almost had it."
"Someone must be jinxing it!" Hermione said. "There's no other explanation."
"But who?"
This was the question she sought to answer, her binoculars scouring the stands.
It was the proverbial needle in a haystack search. The stands were full of people, all with magic, all capable, in theory, of putting the whammy on Harry's broom. The only thing missing, was a motive.
"Slytherin. Somebody in Slytherin," she mumbled, scanning the green and silver.
All eyes were on Harry, as you'd expect, which made it much harder to pick out anyone who might be doing something. Many mouths were moving as they stared, but which one?
As she was trying to pinpoint the culprit, someone bumped into her, throwing off her view to a small, sparsely populated bit of stand. Hagrid sat, concern writ clear across his face, next to Professor Kettleburn and just above Professor Quirrell who was so nervous he'd completely frozen up, staring like a dead eyed mannequin.
She was about to turn back to the Slytherin section when she saw him, Professor Snape, eyes locked, lips running a mile a minute.
"Bloody, buggering, bastard!"
"What?" said Ron. "What did you see?"
"Not now," she said, handing him her binoculars. "I've got to take care of this."
Hurrying from the Gryffindor section, she ducked under the stands and made toward the area where Snape was sitting. This proved a bit harder than she'd originally planned, as the area under the bleachers was a bit of a maze and a mess of discarded rubbish.
"Doesn't anyone ever clean up under here?" she grumbled, crawling over crates and barrels and moldy bunting from years past.
Her journey was further complicated when one of the bludgers shot through, nearly taking her head off and smashing the walkway in front of her on its way back to the field.
"Oh! Come on!"
Never being good with heights and the first to acknowledge her lacking physicality, she gauged the jump, grimaced, then ran as hard as her stringy nerd legs would carry her. She fell and slid on landing, but it was a landing on her terms, so that was alright.
She located Snape easily enough. No one else was wearing all black and the creak of the bleachers from Hagrid's presence told her she was in the right place.
It wouldn't take much to distract him, get him to break his eye contact for just a moment. But she didn't want him to start it up again either.
Wracking her brains, she came to the only reasonable conclusion. It was risky, but it should work. The main problem was the potential damage it might cause. She decided the risk worth taking and drew her wand.
Being a wind element, she couldn't simply conjure flame with her bare hands. She needed a wand to do it, and being she was who she was, of course she'd taken the time to study low grade elemental charms as a supplement to her regular charms work.
"Inflamarea," she whispered the tiny flame into life.
The robe caught, and Hermione stood back to watch and make sure her trick had done it.
Boy did it ever.
The first to notice was Professor Kettleburn. Upon being pointed out, Snape understandably panicked, which made those around him panic. Quirrell was knocked on his face as Snape danced around trying to stomp the flame out which led him right into Hagrid when he stood to help, knocking the drink out of his hand which spilled all over Snape.
She couldn't tell what was in the drink, but she knew it must have been alcohol. How did she know? Because the addition of this liquid to Snape, rather than putting her fire out, caused it to spread in the blink of an eye.
Now Snape wasn't dancing, he was screaming.
"Oops."
Sensing her work was done, Hermione headed back the way she came. Listening to the colorful commentary by Lee Jordan, she could tell she'd been successful.
"You owe me one for this Harry," and wouldn't he be thrilled to learn she'd both intentionally, and accidentally, set Snape on fire.