The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Lucy would be playing in her first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the House Championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Lucy play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Lucy should be kept, well, secret. But the news that she was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow (Ron and Clary suspected Draco), and Lucy didn't know which was worse – people telling her she'd be brilliant or people telling her they'd be running around underneath her, holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Lucy now had Hermione as a friend. She didn't know how she'd have got through all her homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent her Quidditch through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Lucy learnt 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.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Lucy, Clary and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll and she was much nicer for it. The day before Lucy's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire which could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Draco crossed the yard followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Zabini was nowhere in sight. He spotted them and quickly told the boys to go on ahead.

"So, tomorrow's your first match," he said, not really asking.

Lucy nodded. "Against Slytherin."

He laughed awkwardly. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure who to cheer for. Would it be alright if I just hope you'll fall off your broom?"

"I hope Fred falls off his," Clary murmured over the cover of her Charms textbook. She could finally cast the levitating charm. Now she was just looking for certain alterations of it. Ron glared at her over his shoulder. "What? I'm just telling him that it's alright."

"I'm not being serious," he said quickly. "I just wish you would go easy on our team."

Now, it was Lucy's turn to glare. "You want me to throw the game?"

Despite the urge to wince, Draco raised his chin defiantly. "I know you could win. I've seen the way you fly. But Flint's unbearable enough as it is. All I'm asking is that you give our Seeker a chance."

"No way," Lucy shook her head resisting the urge to jump to her feet and throttle him. "You know I can't do that."

"Worth a try," he said, not pursuing the issue but not quite admitting to being wrong either. "May I sit with you?"

Ron was happy to refuse and tell him to bugger off. Unfortunately, Lucy had other ideas. "If you'd like. Did you bring your Potions book? I have a few questions. . . "

And so the break continued without any interruptions. Draco showed Lucy how to properly brew one of the simpler potions she'd messed up in class. Clary had some small epiphany on how to alter the levitation charm (coming up with some ideas for a prank on Fred in the process). Hermione continued reading her book of the day. Ron continued to try to understand the new charm they were learning. Everything was fine and civil. Until Snape turned up.

Lucy noticed at once that Snape was limping. Lucy, Ron, Clary and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Draco stood to leave, but Snape had already seen him. 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 for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"Severus!" Draco exclaimed, holding on tightly to his books. "How is your leg? It still looks awful."

"Fine, Draco," Snape answered, barely giving him a glance. "What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch through the Ages. Lucy showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

'"He's just made that rule up," Lucy muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

"He's told me it was that oaf, Hagrid's mongrel."

"Fang?" Asked Clary. "I don't like her."

"You hate anything that even looks like a dog," Rupert piped up from out of nowhere.

"Where did you come from?" Ron gasped, nearly falling out of his seat.

"I was passing by," Rupert shrugged before instantly latching onto Clary's arm. "And I wanted to show Clary something on how to alter the levitation charm."

She followed him back into the castle, too curious to argue.

"Has he said anything about his visions lately?" Draco asked.

"No, not to us at least," replied Ron. "Clary's usually the one who knows."

Draco hummed as he continued to watch Lucy make notes likely to help her with their latest Potions. Neither she nor Ron noticed the concerned expression that he made just before the Malfoy mask descended once more.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Lucy, Clary, Ron and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Lucy, Clary and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?" "By osmosis," Clary usually replied with a shrug), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Lucy felt restless. She wanted Quidditch through the Ages back, to take her mind off her nerves about tomorrow. Why should she be afraid of Snape? Getting up, she told Ron and Hermione she was going to ask Snape if she could have it. Besides if she met Draco on the way, maybe she could ask for his help.

"Rather you than me," they all said together, but Lucy had an idea. Even if she didn't find Draco, maybe Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening. She made her way down to the staff room (alone) and knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. She pushed the door ajar and peered inside – and a horrible scene met her 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?"

Lucy tried to shut the door quietly, but –

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Lucy gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back."

She thought she spotted a flash of pity in his eyes as she nearly squeaked out her reply but –

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Lucy left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. She sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Lucy joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Lucy told them what she'd seen.

"You know what this means?" she finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Hallowe'en! That's where he was going when we saw him – he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to create a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No – he wouldn't,'" she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe.'

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Lucy. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Clary kept silent, staring at the flames in the fireplace. Rupert had said something, and right then she hated him for it.

Lucy went to bed with her head buzzing with the same question. Clary was up late writing in the journal she kept, so neither of them could sleep. She tried to empty her mind – she needed to sleep, she had to, she had her first Quidditch match in a few hours – but the expression on Snape's face when Lucy had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

Finally, she sat up and turned to Clary. "Clary, are you still awake?"

She heard a sigh and the sound of her sheet moving as she presumably turned to face Lucy. "Unfortunately."

"Do you think I'm right about Snape?"

There was a pause. "Why would you ask that? Aren't you sure?"

"No," Lucy whispered. "That's the point. The way he looks at me sometimes. . . "

"The way he looks at you?"

"He looks sad, Clary. I don't want to suspect him, but why else would he go near the dog?"

"I can't tell you that," Clary said in all honesty. "Just. . . Do what you think is right."

After that, Lucy somehow managed to slip into some semblance of sleep. Clary was not so lucky. And even as she closed and hid her diary, even as she laid her head down on her pillow, her mind was riddled with nightmarish images of snake charmers in turbans.

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.

"Will you shut up?" Clary snapped from her end before drinking a bit of pumpkin juice. "Poor girl's under enough stress as it is without you driving her mad."

Lucy felt terrible. In an hour's time she'd be walking on to the pitch. It was what happened next that made her feel significantly better (though she felt guilty a moment later). Clary's neatly straightened hair proceeded to lift and puff up, turning red. . . No, orange. When it stopped, it resembled the shape and shade of a pumpkin. Clary continued to drink from her glass until she finally noticed everyone snickering around her.

"What's so funny?" she asked with a suspicious glint in her eye.

It was silent as Lavender kindly handed her a mirror.

It was the roaring fits of laughter coming from halfway down the table that hinted at who it was.

"What's wrong, Pumpkin?" Fred called. "You're looking a little. . . Orange!"

"FRED!"

She then marched down the table, her murderous intent evident to all. The lack of sleep was not doing her any favors.

"Aren't you glad, I didn't turn you into a carriage, Pumpkin-top?" He yelled before sprinting out of the Great Hall, Clary right behind him, screeching like a demented Veela. Professor McGonagall barely had time to get up.

"Anyway, Lucy, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan when he'd finally calmed down. "Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Lucy, watching 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.

Ron, Clary (George had given her the antidote) and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Lucy, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colours.

Meanwhile, in the changing rooms, Lucy and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes.

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"OK, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson. Lucy grinned.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley, sporting a cut on his lip and a rather large bruise on his cheek. The only reason he'd gotten away was because of the match.

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

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Lucy. "We were in 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."

Lucy followed Fred and George out of the changing room and, hoping her knees weren't going to give way, walked on to the pitch to loud cheers.

Madam 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 fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Lucy noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth-year. Lucy thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. She could see now why Draco was unnerved by him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. Her heart skipped. She felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Lucy clambered on to her Nimbus Two Thousand.

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, Slytherin 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 Gryffindor 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 Slytherin – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, 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 goalposts are ahead – come on, now, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR

SCORE!'

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron, Clary 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 round his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Lucy hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skywards at the speck that was Lucy.

Way up above them, Lucy was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of her and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Lucy had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let out her feelings. Now she was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once she 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 her way, more like a cannon ball than anything, but Lucy dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Lucy?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously towards Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds towards 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.

Lucy saw it. In a great rush of excitement she dived downwards after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled towards the Snitch – all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in mid-air to watch.

Lucy was faster than Higgs – she could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead – she put on an extra spurt of speed – WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below – Marcus Flint had blocked Lucy on purpose and Lucy's broom

span off course, Lucy holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts 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!"

"This isn't football, Dean," Ron reminded him. "You can't send people off in Quidditch – and what's a red card?"

But Hagrid was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules, Flint coulda knocked Lucy outta the air."

Clary wasn't listening, she was too busy focusing on Rupert's emotions. He was paranoid and frustrated. She got up from her seat to go and find him. Nobody noticed her leave.

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 Lucy dodged another Bludger which went spinning dangerously past her head that it happened. Her broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, she thought she was going to fall. She gripped the broom tightly with both her hands and knees. She'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck her off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Lucy tried to turn back towards the Gryffindor goalposts; she had half a mind to ask Wood to call time out – and then she realised that her broom was completely out of her control. She couldn't turn it. She couldn't direct it at all. It was zig-zagging through the air and every now and then making violent swishing movements which almost unseated her.

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 – Slytherin score – oh no ..."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Lucy's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying her slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Lucy thinks she's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say she'd lost control of her broom ... but she can't have ..."

It was then that Clary reappeared with Rupert, each of them grabbing hold of Hermione and Ron in turn. They kept running, dragging their unsuspecting friends through the stands.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Lucy all over the stands. Her broom had started to roll over and over, with her only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Lucy's broom had given a wild jerk and Lucy swung off it. She was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked her?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic – no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

Meanwhile, Hermione dragged Rupert to a halt and demanded to know hat was going on. Ron followed suit.

'What are you doing?' moaned Ron, grey-faced.

Clary was frantic. Her eyes were wide and flitted from Quirrell to Hermione and Ron and back. They were so close. It was against the rules to explain things like this and she and Rupert couldn't interfere, not really.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped. "Snape – look."

Snape? Clary followed her gaze to Snape seated conveniently in front of Quirrell. Snape had his eyes fixed on Lucy and was muttering non-stop under his breath. Probably the counter curse, Clary thought vaguely.

"I knew this would happen," Rupert said under his breath.

"He's doing something – jinxing the broom," said Hermione. "What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Rupert's eyes widened and he shook his head at Clary, silently beseeching her to stop Hermione. Not considering the consequences, she followed her.

Before Ron could say another word, They both had disappeared. Ron took out the binoculars to check on Lucy. Her broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for her to hang on much longer. The whole crowd were on their feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Lucy safely on to one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near her, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath her, obviously hoping to catch her if she fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

"Everything'll be fine," Rupert said, falling back into the seat behind him. Ron gave him an odd look.

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 began to whisper a few, well chosen words. At that moment, Clary nearly tackled her before she could finish.

"What are you doing?" Hermione sputtered.

"Shape is not the one doing this!" she hissed, hoping he somehow hadn't noticed the commotion. Luckily, he hadn't. Then she realised what she'd said.

They both froze.

Snape would never know what had happened.

Up in the air, Lucy was suddenly able to clamber back on to her broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said, now back in his seat. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Lucy was speeding towards the ground when the crowd saw her clap her hand to her mouth as though she was about to be sick – she hit the pitch on all fours – coughed – and something gold fell into her hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" she shouted, waving it above her head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"She didn't catch it, she nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference – Lucy hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the result – Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Lucy heard none of this, though. She was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Clary, Rupert and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining. "Hermione, Clary and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, 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 some- thin' like that?"

"He's right, it is rubbish," Hermione said softly. "I nearly burned his robes when Clary told me. Shape didn't do anything."

"But that doesn't mean he's not the one trying to get past that thing," Clary argued somewhat weakly before explaining to Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Hallowe'en. 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?"

"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 Lucy eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me any more," 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 maybe it's the person who just tried to kill Lucy," reasoned Hermione. "If that wasn't Snape, who was it? We should still keep Snape in mind, though. Why else would he have gone near Fluffy?"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Lucy's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all five 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 Lucy. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

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