Quidditch

Harry sat nervously at the breakfast table and tried to eat something. But he didn't have much of an appetite.

"Come on, Harry. You have to eat something. Tomorrow's your first Quidditch game, and it's against Slytherin! You've got to be well. You can't afford to fall off your broom, because you didn't eat enough," Ron declared with worry.

"Oh, thanks, now I'm relieved…" Harry answered in a petulant voice.

"Hey, what are you afraid of? You have the best broom ever. You'll make it all right! Your dad was a brilliant Seeker. And I'm sure you'll be as great as he was if not greater."

"That's exactly the problem." Harry hung his head. "Everyone expects me to be great. But how can I match up with my dad? I've only been a wizard for a few months now. How can I be as great as he was?"

"Harry, you've been a wizard your whole life…" Ron objected.

"Yes, but-"

"No buts. Listen! You mounted a broom in our first flying lesson and you flew it like nobody else could. And you were only flying an old school broom at the time... But now, you have a new Nimbus 2000. Why do you think you'll mess up?"

Harry cast a small smile at his friend, "I guess you're right."

"Hey, Harry, look what I found!" Hermione appeared in the Great Hall with a book in her hands. She was a bit late for breakfast, but there was still enough food for her to eat.

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously as he took the book she was holding out for him.

Stamped on the cover in red letters was the title, Quidditch through the Ages. With interest, Harry opened the book and saw small pictures that showed different flying tricks of great Quidditch players. He stared at the pictures in fascination. "Wow. Thanks a lot, Hermione!"

Ron look over Harry's shoulder. Both of them were lost in the book, while Hermione finished her breakfast.

Ooo

"What do you want to do now? We definitely need some fresh air after this week…" Ron suggested.

Harry and Hermione agreed. Harry was still holding onto his Quidditch book tight as they stepped out of the Entrance Hall; he didn't want to put down the book ever again.

Outside on the steps they met Professor Snape. He looked very grumpy. His bad mood had deepened with every day the Quidditch match 'Slytherin against Gryffindor' approached.

Professor McGonagall always grinned knowingly at him whenever they met in the corridors. She acted as though she had a secret weapon against Slytherin. The way the Potter boy had cheated his way onto the Gryffindor team displeased Professor Snape to no end. Any other student would have been expelled for such a stunt! Draco had certainly received his just rewards.

As Snape looked at the small group, he noticed the book in Potters hands and found it a perfect scapegoat for his foul mood.

"Potter! What is that?" he asked, startling the boy.

"Just a book, sir…" Harry replied.

"But it is a book from the library, is it not?"

Harry look down at the book. "Erm…yeah."

"You are not allowed to take books from the library out of the school. You should know that. Give it to me!" Snape hissed.

Harry gulped. "But… I want to read it. I'm not finished yet." Unconsciously he tightened his hold on the book.

He jerked back when Snape snapped, "Do not talk back to me, unless you wish to find yourself in detention tomorrow. Wouldn't it be a pity if the great Gryffindor hero missed his first match?"

Shocked and irritated, Harry loosened his grip on the book and slowly handed it over to the professor. Snape grabbed the book, stepped around the students and entered the school.

"He's in an awful mood!" Hermione complained.

"That's because he knows Slytherin will lose this time," Ron said and grinned.

"He's still limping. Maybe he's in pain…" Harry supposed, biting his lip to try and hide his hurt feelings.

"Limping?" asked Ron and Hermione together, bewildered as they looked back toward the entrance where Snape disappeared.

"Yes," Harry replied. "The three-headed dog must have bitten him. His leg was all bloody the day we knocked out the troll. Don't you remember?"

"No, I wasn't even looking at his legs…" Ron said pensively. Suddenly he glanced over at his friend, "But, Harry, why was he near the dog? All the teachers were ordered to the dungeon. Wait…what if he was the one who let in the troll! As a distraction… to try and steal the…thing! Maybe he didn't get it and now he's grumpy…"

Hermione frowned, "Why would Snape want to steal the thing?"

"I don't know. But someone did let in the troll," Ron insisted.

"I don't think it was Snape," Harry said.

"Then who was it? Maybe P-P-P-Professor Quirrell?" Ron laughed about his own joke, but nobody laughed with him. Ron cleared his throat and said, "Well…even you have to admit…no other professor in this school is as weird as Snape. And absolutely none of the other teachers would've taken away your book just because you took a few steps out of the school. He's mean and unfair, 'specially to you, Harry!"

Harry shrugged, "I'm sure he'll give it back to me if I ask him for it and promise not to leave the school with it again."

Ron frowned, skeptical.

Ooo

After lunch Harry sought out Professor Snape to get the book back. He was eager to look at the tiny Quidditch pictures again and start practicing some of the moves. He knocked on Snape's office door, but there was no response.

Harry frowned. He was ready to leave when he heard a noise from inside the office. He knocked again and waited. But still there was no response.

Maybe he didn't hear me? Harry thought and carefully opened the door a bit to get a look inside. But the sight before him took his breath away. Professor Snape had just plopped down on his chair and heaved his foot up onto the desktop. Between his teeth he had a cloth and on the table stood some several jars. Probably for his injured leg.

As the professor pulled up his trouser leg and exposed his wound Harry couldn't stop himself from gasping.

A furious Snape looked up and glared at the unwanted intruder.

"Haven't you ever learned to knock?!" he shouted, enraged.

"I… I did knock… twice, Sir!" Harry stuttered.

"And? Did I say you could come in?" Snape spat.

"N… No… but I thought heard something."

Snape hissed in disbelief. Then he glared at the boy again and said "Then hear this, boy: OUT!"

Harry winced. He could not understand what had gotten into his professor.

"I… I just wanted… to ask…" the boy started but fell silent immediately as Professor Snape stood up with a livid glare. He relied on the desktop table to keep balance himself. "I said OUT! NOW!" he bellowed.

Harry paled. He didn't know why his professor was so angry at him. Snape knew that Harry knew about his leg. But Harry didn't give the matter another thought; he stepped back and closed the door with shaking hands.

Maybe it's because of the pain, Harry tried to convince himself, gritting his teeth against the lump that instantly clogged his throat. Snape's sudden change in attitude towards him cut deep. In private the man had been mostly nice to him. What happened?

Sad and confused, Harry went back to Gryffindor common room, wiping angrily at the tears that wouldn't stop leaking out of his eyes and trickling down his cheeks.

Ooo

As soon as Harry left, Severus knew it had been a mistake to throw the boy out like that. Perhaps he should have sealed the office door. But how did the boy have the nerve to burst into any room he wished without invitation? Didn't Potter know anything about privacy?

After dinner Snape ordered the boy to his office.

Nervously Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he stood before his professor who was pacing in front of his desk.

"I hope you don't expect an apology because you won't get one," Professor Snape finally said and stopped pacing. "You cannot burst into any room you wish. That is a bad habit you will get rid of as soon as possible. You understand the concept privacy, do you not?"

Harry nodded, still embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Sir. But I didn't know if you heard me knocking. At first I thought you weren't here, but then I heard some rumbling and I tried again. But you didn't say anything, so I thought I would see—"

"You thought would simply barge in and see what was happening?" Snape ended the sentence for the boy.

"Erm… yes. Kind of…" Harry mumbled, and his face grew hot in shame.

"If you want to survive your first school year, then do not repeat such a thing. Doors which are closed are closed for a reason! No matter if they are locked or not, you cannot just enter as you wish like the King of England."

Red and hot in the face Harry hung his head and said, "I know."

"Really?" Snape asked, seemingly disbelieving as he fixed the boy with a stern glare. "You don't give that impression."

Harry hung his head lower but the professor commanded, "Harry, look at me!"

He waited until the boy gathered his courage and looked up. The green eyes were full of remorse.

"Harry, I expect you not to blindly stumble into rooms. You cannot know what will await you. And if you want to see someone, you have to knock and wait for an invitation. Without an invitation you have no right to enter, regardless of what you believe to have heard."

Harry nodded again and whispered, "Yes, Sir…"

"Very well," Snape said and walked around his desk to sit. "As for your earlier request, the answer is 'no'. I will not give the book back to you."

Astonished and disappointed Harry opened his mouth, but Snape did not let him speak.

"You will only drive yourself mad studying such ridiculous pictures. All you are expected to do is to keep yourself upright on your broom and catch the Snitch if you are lucky. You don't have to learn maneuvers."

Harry did not agree. He would also have to dodge the Bludgers or dive steeply to keep up with the Snitch. But Harry remained silent about that, as he was still smarting from the harsh outburst in the morning and earlier reprimand.

"Yes, Sir," he said capitulating. He knew there was nothing he could do to get the book back.

Ooo

The next day at breakfast Harry was even more nervous than the day before. He could not get down one single bite.

"I can't do it," Harry said, miserable.

"Of course you can!" reassured Ron. "You'll see. As soon as you're up in the air, everything that's bothering you will vanish!"

"I hope so…" Harry said uncertainly.

"Good luck, Potter," Snape's voice suddenly appeared as he passed the kids on his way out of the Great Hall.

Ron watched him leave with a suspicious look on his face. "He's still limping… The dog must've been very angry at him."

But Harry didn't let the dog business distract from him from his current misery. He was sure as soon as he mounted his broom he was going to disappoint everyone.

Ooo

Ron was right after all. As Harry pushed himself off and up into the air, he left his doubts at the ground. It felt so great to fly. The game went well and Harry had no problem dodging the Bludgers. But he also noticed that the Slytherins had no problems being unfair. They fouled a lot.

Suddenly Harry's broom jerked and twitched as if it were trying to throw him off. Taken aback Harry lost his balance. At the last minute he got a grip with one hand on the broom's handle to prevent himself from falling. His feet dangled in the air. But the broom didn't stop. Harry didn't understand what was going on. He hadn't done anything wrong. But there wasn't much time to think about that. He concentrated on gripping the broom with all his might. If he let go, he would smash to bits when he hit the ground, he was so high.

But as suddenly as it had happened, the broom stopped jerking. Harry was relieved. He was now able to climb on his broom again. When he did, he saw something twinkling near the ground. He barely gave it a second's thought as he dove for it, speeding toward the ground.

The viewers screamed again in panic. But Harry didn't care; the chase for the Snitch was on, and he had a Slytherin Seeker at his flank to boot.

After a second dive Harry flew just a few feet above the ground; the Snitch hovered right in front of him. Without thinking, he slowly stood on his broomstick, inching his feet forward. He reached out for the golden-winged ball. But before his fingertips touched the Snitch, Harry gasped and flipped over.

The broom had crashed to the ground from the sudden weight and took Harry with him.

Slowly Harry came around. His mouth was so dry, he was sure he swallowed a handful of sand. Coughing and nearly regurgitating his pumpkin juice, he stood up and spit out the chunk in his mouth. But it wasn't a hunk of sand that landed in his hand; it was the Snitch.

He stared at the tiny golden ball in disbelief while it flapped its wings tiredly.

"Gryffindor wins!" the voice rang through the megaphone, and Harry suddenly realized what he had done. He had caught it.

He hadn't disappointed anyone. He caught the Snitch! His heart swelled in overwhelming delight. Closing his hand over the tiny ball, he held it high up to the air. People were cheering—cheering for him.

Ooooo

"It was Snape!" Ron insisted again.

Harry didn't want to believe him. At a loss for words, he looked at Hermione, but she only nodded. "He stared at you without even blinking. And he whispered something! It looked like he was cursing your broom!"

"Nonsense!" Hagrid grumbled as he served the three kids some tee. "Why would 'e do somethin' like tha'?"

"Because he wanted Slytherin to win the game!" Ron cried.

Harry frowned and then felt his stomach lurch. Suddenly he remembered Snape's words: "All you have to do is to keep yourself upright on your broom," the boy recited in a whisper.

"What?" asked Ron. Hermione and Hagrid looked over at him.

"Snape told me that yesterday…when I was asking him for my book back. He said I didn't need to worry about maneuvers; I should just make sure I stay on my broom. How did he know that was gonna happen today?"

Ron and Hermione starred at Harry with open mouths. But Hagrid plunked down into his chair and said, "Nonsense. I think you musta misunderstood somethin', Harry. Perfessor Snape wo' never harm a student!"

"But he just tried to!" Ron yelled.

Harry didn't say anything. His whole body was boiling with a strange, mixed feeling of anger and hurt. He stared at his shoes.

Hermione nodded. "He was completely focused on Harry's broom!"

"But why would 'e do somethin' like tha'?" Hagrid asked again.

"Who knows what Snape's thinking… Why does he want to get past the three-headed dog?" Ron shot back.

Hagrid nearly dropped his cup of tea. "How do you know about Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" Ron repeated. "That thing has a name?"

"Of course. It's mine!" Hagrid replied with pride.

"Well…Then let's hope Snape won't find a way past Fluffy!"

Hagrid shook his head vehemently. "Now you three, listen! I think yer goin' down the wrong path. Perfessor Snape wouldn't hurt er steal anythin'. He an' some other teachers pertect the st… erm… the thing. Ya shouldn't wrack yer brains about tha'. The thing is well pertected. Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel are the only ones tha' need ta concern themselves about it."

"Nicolas Flamel?" repeated Harry, suddenly glancing up from the floor with big eyes. "So someone named Nicolas Flamel has something to do with the thing?"

Hagrid looked angry, mostly with himself. "Stop. Enough! I'm not sayin' another word!" And with that, the kind and always friendly Hagrid sent the children back to the castle.

But Ron and Hermione were far from disconcerted. They chatted excitedly the whole way back about what they had discovered. The new piece to the puzzle.

Harry was quiet again, thinking about his broom, and the thing under the trapdoor…and Snape. The whole mess made him dizzy with confusion.