Harry began to feel anxious as October drew nearer. It was almost time for his first quiditch match. Flint was pushing the team harder each practice, but everyone was too nervous about the upcoming match to complain. Even Draco was abnormally quiet during Tuesday morning's practice. After a series of brutal agility drills marked the conclusion of Flint's agenda, the two boys made their way to the great hall for breakfast. It felt strange to be around a quiet Draco, so Harry broke the silence.

"How do you think we'll do this Sunday?"

It took Draco several second to respond – the stillness was accented by the rhythmic thud of their footsteps on the stone floor of the hallway. Their practices were so early that much of the school was only just waking up.

"I don't know… I hope we will win."

"Come on, that sounds awfully cautious. Where is your Slytherin pride?"

Draco looked aside at Harry as they walked, his forehead furrowed with worry beneath his slicked back hair. "I am proud to be a Slytherin, but it's better to worry now and be proud later than the other way around, no?"

"Why not be proud now, and proud later?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Father is coming to see the match this Sunday. In order to feel proud, I'll have to show him something worthy. That's kind of tough since I won't get to play. I'm only a sub, remember? Unless somebody gets sick before the match, I'll be in the stands."

Harry cringed slightly as he recalled that he was the one that had beat Draco to the seeker spot. "Don't worry about it. With Flint's latest plays, it's practically guaranteed that we'll have multiple injuries. You won't get to play this time, but sooner or later, you're bound to see some action."

Draco punched him in the shoulder lightly. "I don't need your sympathy, Potter. I'll settle for us winning the match, even if I don't get to play. So make sure that happens, OK?"

"As you wish, Lord Malfoy."

The great hall was fairly empty when they got there, but Tracey and Runcorn were already sitting at the first year Slytherin table. Harry and Draco made their way over to join them. As they drew nearer, their conversation came into earshot.

"I don't believe you, Tracey. Prefects, I'd understand. But professors?"

Tracey appeared scandalized at the challenge. "You can look for yourself if you'd like. Or you can ask somebody else. I bet half the school has heard by now."

"What are you two talking about?"

The girls turned towards Draco. Tracey grinned mischievously.

"Sweet Merlin, you wouldn't believe what I saw on the way here this morning."

The two boys sat down at the table, and Harry tapped his plate for some scrambled eggs. Draco leaned forward towards Tracey. "I'm listening."

"I was walking towards the grand staircase, and I saw a group of kids standing by the potions classroom. I went over to see what they would looking at, and you wouldn't believe what I saw."

Draco pinched his eyebrows. "Just tell me already, I don't have all day."

"Ok. I'll tell you right now… for a galleon."

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly. "How about you tell me right now, and I won't tell Harry what happened back at your birthday party last year."

Tracey turned crimson and quickly continued her story. "As I was saying, there were like ten people standing outside Snape's classroom. They were all looking at the patch of wall to the right of the door." Tracey paused once more.

"Why?" Draco prompted in a weary voice. Harry stopped chewing for a second and looked up at Tracey. He normally wasn't one for the daily breakfast gossip, but this sounded juicy.

"There was a huge heart drawn on the wall in gold paint! And there were initials inside the heart. S.S. and H.J. The S.S. is obviously Severus Snape given the location of the graffiti. We're not as sure about H.J, but it's probably professor Jones."

Harry dropped his fork. Tracey turned towards him, a questioning look on her face.

"It's nothing… I just remembered I forgot to finish my charms homework," he lied quickly. Draco glanced at him suspiciously, but Tracey continued her story.

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure professor Snape and professor Jones have a thing for each other."

"Why, just because somebody drew a giant heart with their initials in it?" Draco asked mockingly.

"Well yeah, why would this mysterious artist lie? I mean Snape is one of the most hated professors outside Slytherin, but I don't think somebody outside our house would be able to navigate the dungeons at night undetected."

Draco shrugged as he took a bite out of an apple. Tracey turned towards Harry. "What do you think?"

Harry shrugged like Draco, and quickly shoveled a chunk of eggs in his mouth. Fortunately, Daphne chose that moment to make her entrance, and Tracey shifted her attention to the newcomer. The rest of the Slytherin first years drifted in over the next fifteen minutes, and by the time he was done eating, Harry had heard the story at least five more times. Meanwhile, he was busy wondering if the rumors were true.

Now that he thought about it, Snape and Jones did seem pretty awkward around each other. On top of that, there was the whole thing with professor Snape asking Harry to inform him on what happened at the dueling club practices. That could just be professional curiosity, but after hearing Dahpne's story, he was left questioning if Snape just wanted to know what Jones was up to. Harry shook his head silently. He was not looking forward to potions.

Fortunately, the first class of the day was Herbology with the Gryffindors. It didn't take a lot of focus to pot plants, so Harry could work on focusing his mind like he had been taught in Snape's occulumency detentions. Somehow, the Gryffindors around him already knew about the graffiti outside Snape's classroom. It seemed very suspicious for the news to spread that fast, particularly since Slytherins rarely spent much time talking to Gryffindors. This lent some support to the idea that a Gryffindor had sneaked into the dungeons, but Tracey did have a point in that traveling across the school to Snape's lair in the middle of the night would be a massive undertaking for any Gryffindor. Between the portraits, Flitch, and Snape himself – getting caught seemed like a certainty. Harry was running through possibilities in his mind when Neville showed up at his side.

"Hey Harry."

"Hey Nevillle, how are you?"

"I'm doing good. Thanks for roping Hermione, me, and Boris together. You put her up to it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess I did. Are you guys getting along alright?"

"More or less. I have noticed that fewer people pick on us now, so that by itself makes sitting together worth it."

"I'm happy to hear that."

Neville paused for a moment. "I hear you are playing against us this weekend."

"Yeah, or your quidditch team at least. I hope you won't hold a grudge against me after we beat you guys."

Neville grinned. "We'll see what happens." He peered into Harry's pot. "By the way, you might want to add a bit more soil to them. If you leave them like this, the roots might freeze."

Harry nodded, adding a couple more scoopfuls to the pot. "Did you hear about the potions classroom?"

Neville shifted nervously. "Yeah, I had a feeling something would happen."

Harry eyed the lanky boy suspiciously. "How?"

"You can keep a secret right?"

Harry glanced over his shoulders, then nodded once he was sure Tracey was out of earshot. Neville leaned in closer and whispered, "The twins have been very agitated for the past few days. I've noticed that they are usually like this before they do something big."

"I don't see how they could have made it to the potions classroom and back without getting caught."

"I don't know either, but if anybody could do it, it's them. You're not going to tell anybody I told you this, right?"

"I'll take it to the grave. Besides, I already have enough to worry about without them coming after us."

"Thanks, I should go back to my table now. We're getting some looks."

"See you later." As Neville left, Harry collected his thoughts once more. He already knew that Snape hated many of the Gryffindors. That much was evident every time they had potions together. He was willing to bet the twins fell in that category, and if that was the case, there was no telling how Snape would react if he found out they did it. After having gotten to know Snape over the past month, Harry guessed their punishment would be somewhere between a year's worth of detentions, and poison in their dinner.

"Hey Harry, are you coming?"

He looked up from the table, and noticed the rest of the class was walking out of the glass building. He quickly gathered up his supplies and joined them. Together, they walked to Flitwick's classroom for charms. Many of the Hufflepuffs were already there. Luckily for them – they didn't have to walk all the way from the greenhouse. Flitwick stepped out of his office just before the bell, and announced the new spell they would be learning.

The incantation was lumos, and the purpose of the charm would be to produce light from their wand. There were many variations of the spell – ranging from producing a floating light that freed up the wand for other spells, to creating a burst of light that could blind attackers – but as first years they would be learning the most basic version. As Flitwick was describing the spell, Harry realized that it was much like the shielding charm in that the amount of power put into the spell determined the strength of the shield, or in this case, the brightness of the light. Harry found that while his light wasn't the brightest, he was able to maintain it with ease. When professor Flitwick passed by, he commended Harry on his focus.

After charms, the first years went to the great hall for lunch. The girls spent most of the time speculating what Snape would do during potions. Word was that he had covered the graffiti with a tapestry for the time being. Harry couldn't help being impressed. Whoever had put it up must be skilled if the potions master couldn't remove it. Then again, it had taken them a weekend to clean up their own dorms after they had gotten pranked during the first week of school.

The boys on the other hand were talking about the upcoming quidditch match against Gryffindor. Harry was relieved to learn that the Gryffindor seeker wasn't considered very good. At the same time, he wasn't sure if his friends were being honest, or just trying to reassure him. Regardless, Flint had been spending most of the practices training the chasers and the beaters. Granted, the latter two didn't need much direction, but most of their plays involved coordinated attacks that relied on Peregrine and Lucian to disrupt the defending seeker formations. Hopefully, Flint's focus elsewhere meant that he didn't expect too much of Harry, or at the very least believed he would have no issue catching the snitch.

After they finished their lunch, the Slytherins walked to the Snape's classroom for double potions with Ravenclaw. True to rumor, a massive tapestry now occupied the wall next to the classroom door. Harry only needed one glance at Snape's face to know that beneath his façade, the man was livid. Surprisingly, he seemed relatively composed on the surface. It probably helped that he favored the Slytherins, and tolerated the Ravenclaws. Harry could not imagine what it would have been like if they had their lesson with the Gryffindors, against whom Snape seemed to hold a personal grudge, or the Hufflepuffs, many of whom routinely failed to meet his standards.

While things could have been worse, they were certainly not good. The topic of the day was a rash soothing cream. At the beginning of the class, Snape announced that they would hex them with a rash, and they would each have to treat it with their own product. The ones that did not succeed would get to walk around the school for the rest of the day with an unsightly rash on their arm. The ones that failed utterly – to the point that Snape deemed it too dangerous to apply their cream in the first place, got detention. There were only a few students in the latter category (which unsurprisingly included Vincent and Gregory). A greater number produced a cream that was safe for skin contact – but did nothing to ease the rash. Harry and Neville fared better than most in that their cream reduced their rashes to half of their original intensity.

After Snape dismissed the class, he asked Harry to stay behind. He waved goodbye to his classmates, and walked up to Snape's desk. The potions master was sitting in his chair and twirling his wand. As he arrived, Snape pointed his wand at Harry's arm and intoned "utricaria evanesco." Harry rubbed his arm as the skin went cold. Within seconds, the rash had disappeared.

"Thank you, professor."

"You did half the work already. Besides, it would have faded in a few minutes regardless."

Harry cocked his head to the side, and Snape scoffed in response.

"What? Did you think that I would let twenty students walk around with a rash for the rest of the day? The hex is temporary, it only lasts a couple of hours at most. Just long enough to properly motivate you brats for the duration of the lesson."

Harry blushed slightly. That's exactly what he had expected. Snape did not wait for a response.

"Now, let's see your shield charm – or rather, your attempt at one."

Harry pulled out his wand, and spoke the incantation. Apart from a slight shimmer near the tip of his wand, there was little noticeable effect. Snape rose from his chair and walked to his side.

"That's further than I expected us to be by this point. But don't go congratulating yourself just yet. At the moment you are focusing all of your energy on conjuring the shield. And it's working – in an area of about a square centimeter. You need to broaden your focus across a larger area while still maintaining its intensity."

Harry looked at Snape blankly. "That sounds…"

"Paradoxical? Sure. Nonetheless, it's what you must do. If you have to apply the same amount of concentration – the same presence of mind - over a larger area, the only solution is to get better at channeling your magic. This is why such spells are normally not taught until later on in magical training. The only thing you can do at this point is keep at your occlumency exercises, and keep attempting the spell. Not mindlessly, but with a concerted effort to broaden its coverage."

Harry nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in. How could he concentrate on casting the spell – something that was very difficult in the first place, focus on keeping the shield up, and the same time make it larger? Some of the occlumency exercises he had been learning focused on splitting one's thoughts, but they were still heavily taxing for him, and applying the same process to a spell would be a different beast altogether.

"You may leave now. I would recommend holding off on any further practice until after this weekend. I want you to win this quidditch match."

Harry frowned – he didn't know Snape was a fan. The potions master smirked back.

"I don't need legilimency to know what you are thinking. No, I don't care about the sport itself. I just want to see those red-haired oafs thoroughly debased. I will speak with Flint later today. Your primary concern will be making sure you are well rested, and catching the snitch. The second part is very important, you see. It is difficult to humiliate them if Gryffindor wins because you haven't caught the snitch."

"I will do my best, sir."

"Your best better be good enough. It would be a shame if my confidence in you was misplaced. Dismissed."

Harry nodded mutely, and walked out of the classroom. Apparently, Snape thought that the Weasley twins were to blame for the graffiti outside his classroom. If both he and Neville suspected them – there was a good chance they were guilty. It was a tough prank to pull off, but Neville had repeatedly stressed how talented they were at this sort of thing. So on top of his teammates, the rest of the first years, and really all of Slytherin – Harry now had Snape breathing down his neck about this Sunday's match. He was beginning to regret this whole quidditch thing. It was fun at times – sure – but people took it way too seriously.

Harry felt queasy as he listened to the announcer call the Gryffindor team to the field, one by one. It was comforting that each of his teammates looked every bit as nervous as he felt, but not entirely reassuring since he had to rely on them to do their jobs. Even Lucian and Peregrine looked pale. They were usually excited at the prospect of whacking bludgers at people, and it seemed like they should be even more thrilled at the opportunity to whack bludgers at people that weren't their teammates. Harry snapped out of his chain of thought as the announcer reached the final Gryffindor player – Lloyd Hughes as seeker.

"Let's hear it for Gryffindor!"

The announcer's magically enhanced voice boomed, shaking the wooden supports in the tunnel that sheltered the Slytherin players. The cheering of the crowd seemed nearly as loud. The rumbling cries gradually dissipated, and the voice spoke once again, although with markedly less enthusiasm.

"I am now obligated to call out the Slytherin team. Marcus Flint, Slytherin Captain."

Harry frowned slightly as Flint squared his shoulders and stepped out of the tunnel. There was a barrage of cheering, along with some booing.

"Enough of that now. We'll have plenty of chances to boo Flint during the game."

"Jordan!" A voice, unmistakable McGonagall, interjected.

"Sorry Professor. Moving on, we have Adrian Pucey, chaser, entering the field."

Pucey followed Flint out of the tunnel, broom in hand.

"Cassius Warrington, chaser."

Peregrine and Lucian stepped ahead in anticipation. Jordan announced their names one after the other, fortunately without any witty commentary. Harry wasn't sure if they would be able to distinguish player from announcer if Jordan offended them.

"Miles Bletchley, keeper."

The crowd put forth a moderate round of applause. Harry swallowed. His name was next.

"Harry Potter, seeker."

This time there was a thunderous applause. Harry wasn't sure if people were clapping because they were excited to see him play, or because he was the boy who lived. As he stepped out of the tunnel, the light dazed him slightly. As his eyes adjusted, Harry noticed that everybody else was already standing in their starting formation, so he took his own place near the back. Madam Hootch walked to the middle of the field, between the two captains. She hovered a box into the air, and simultaneously raised a whistle to her lips.

"Mount your brooms please."

Both Gryffindor and Slytherin players complied. Harry swung his leg over the best school broom he had been able to find in the broom-shed. Madam Hootch blew the whistle and unlatched the box. The quaffle shot vertically into the air. Flint raced towards it while Wood retreated towards his goalposts. Simultaneously, the bludgers took off in opposite directions. A split second later, a shimmer of gold darted out of the box.

Harry knew better than to race after it. At this distance – it would be gone far before he could reach it. Instead, he rose above the field. The opposing seeker did the same. A Gryffindor was the first to reach the quaffle, and she immediately passed it ahead to one of her teamates. Harry tried to follow the play, but a narrow miss from a bludger forced him to look away. He spotted one of the Weasely twins point his club in his direction. A second after, another bludger grazed the red haired boy, spinning him around in mid-air.

In the next few minutes. It became evident that Peregrine and Lucian were focusing their efforts on knocking out the Gryffindor Beaters. Harry was confused – this wasn't what they had planned during their practices. The Slytherin beaters were to assist the chasers in their attack. Pursuing the Gryffindor beaters seemed like a fool's errand.

"10 points to Gryffindor!"

Harry twisted his head towards the Slytherin end of the pitch. Miles was kicking one of the goalposts. Fortunately, Flint and the chasers had recuperated and were moving towards the Gryffindor side in an arrowhead formation. When a Gryffindor chaser approached the point, Flint and Cassius ducked under while Adrian flew straight at him. The Gryffindor panicked and averted his flight trajectory. Meanwhile Flint and Cassius kept flying straight.

At this point, Lucian was supposed to occupy one of the two remaining defenders so that Flint could approach unmolested. Unfortunately, the beaters seemed to be on another planet with the Weasleys. Jordan was having a good time announcing the bludger back and forth between the two pairs, but they seemed deadlocked to the point that neither pair of beaters had any effect on the course of the match.

Flint drove past one of the defenders, and threw the quaffle to Cassius. The 3rd year threw the quaffle towards the near goalpost, but his shot was deftly caught by Wood. The Gryffindor section of the stands erupted in cheering while Harry groaned quietly. The Keeper tossed the quaffle to one of his chasers, and the Slytherins retreated to defend.

Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw a glimmer of the snitch near the center of the field. He immediately dived after it. Unfortunately, Lloyd had seen it too, and the opposing seeker looked to be gaining. Harry hunched forward, trying to wrest a bit extra speed from his broom. Just as they were nearing the snitch, it veered sharply to the right and disappeared behind the stands.

"10 points to Slytherin. The score is 10-10."

Flint and Adrian joined Cassius on the defensive while the Gryffindor chasers pressed forward. One of the chasers managed to speed past Adrian, but was nearly knocked off his broom by an elbow from Flint, dropping the quaffle in the process.

"WHAT! That's a clear fowl," boomed Jordan. Madam Hootch seemed to agree, because she gave a penalty to the Gryffindor chaser. He flew undeterred towards Miles, and easily scored a goal past the flustered Slytherin keeper.

"10 points to Gryffindor. The score is now 20-10."

The game went on for another forty minutes without any sight of the snitch. Harry found it odd, but quickly realized that it was far easier to spot the golden orb under practice conditions. The score gradually diverged, with Gryffindor leading 80 points to 50, half of them scored via penalty throws. While the beaters were preoccupied with trying to beat each other, Flint seemed bent on taking out half the Gryffindor team single-handed.

Unfortunately, Wood was just as skilled in the defensive theater. Combined with a thoroughly competent offense, the Gryffindors were able to stay ahead. Harry found the beater matchup to be far more interesting. They had been trading shots for nearly an hour now, and both sides seemed to be in pretty bad shape. Lucian had taken a bludger to the chest, and Hootch had insisted on a medical time-out to assess him. Fortunately, the beater seemed to be made of steel and was back on his broom in minutes. Fred Weasley, on the other hand, was bleeding freely from his nose from an earlier hit to the face.

Harry was scanning the air for the snitch when a chorus of gasps alerted him to the plummeting figure of the Gryffindor beater. He was caught near the ground by Hootch, who called another medical timeout. Fred Weasley wouldn't regain consciousness, so she sent him off to Madam Pomfrey.

This marked a turn of events for the Slytherins. Their opponents were now one player short, and the balance of power between the beaters had been disrupted. Over the next fifteen minutes, Lucian and Peregrine methodically wore George Weasley down. Ultimately, the Gryffindor beater simultaneously took both bludgers to the upper body. Harry didn't need to wait for the medical timeout to know that the boy wouldn't be swinging his beaters bat anytime soon.

Now that the Weasleys were out of commission, the Slytherin beaters joined their chasers on the offensive. It was brutal. Even Woods' superb defensive skills couldn't stop the onslaught. After only ten minutes, Peregrine added another casualty to the list. Now with only four players – just three of which were involved with the quaffle – Gryffindor rapidly lost their lead. Slytherin quickly grew theirs. A mere twenty minutes after the Weasleys were indisposed, Jordan was forced to announce a 210-100 lead for the snakes.

Harry was having fun watching the carnage taking place before him. In fact, he was so entranced that he nearly missed Lloyd take off after the snitch. He cursed quietly and raced after, pushing his broom for everything it was worth. Still it wasn't enough. The Gryffindor seeker was markedly faster - no doubt due to the shiny broom carrying his body.

Harry lowered his torso, pressing it flat against the broom shaft, and willed the broom forward with everything he had. A faintly acrid smell drifted to his nostrils, but it wasn't until the crowd started screaming that he realized the tail of his broom was on fire. He tried to ignore it, but the broom began to fail as the tail-twigs were consumed by the flames. At first the handle just shook, but seconds later, the broom's flight became impossible to control. Harry was forced to take it to the ground or risk having his brains dashed against one of the stands. Just as he landed, Jordan's voice boomed overhead.

"YES! Lloyd catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins - 250 points to 220!"

A/N: I will address questions asked in reviews in the FAQ section of my author profile page (that you can reach by clicking my username). If I don't answer a question publicly, it is probably because the answer would be a spoiler for future chapters. Also, while the twins may have gotten the short end of the stick this chapter, I can assure you that I am not into Weasley bashing (or bashing any character for that matter). While bad things may happen to certain characters at some point, it is usually for a greater purpose with regards to plot or character development, and that purpose may not become clear until several chapters later.