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 be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Most of Slytherin had seen Harry play by now. Flint wasn't shy at all about the skills of his new Seeker and by now the entire school knew that Harry would be playing for Slytherin. Harry didn't know which was worse — people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Flint was making him do, learning all the ways that Slytherin had avoided getting called Fouls during games seemed to be a majority of his training. Harry quickly learned that being a Seeker meant he had the least amount of possible fouls. Hermione had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, 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.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Draco had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. She had even given him a jar with a magic blue flame inside of it. He had been using to keep warm in the late Autumn days Harry had kept it with him as he decided to read up on famous Seeker plays the day before his first match. He was so engrossed with a series of plays from 1924 that he hadn't even noticed Snape approach him.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"Snape asked making himself known as he stood in front of Harry, arms crossed.

"Quidditch Through the Ages, Sir." Harry said looking back and forth from the book and Snape. "Reading up on Seeker plays for the game tomorrow." Harry offered Snape the book to see.

Snape merely nodded. "Be sure to do well tomorrow Potter. Slytherin has maintained the Quidditch Cup for many years, I'd like to see it stay that way." Snape said before walking off. Harry nodded and only just noticed Snape's limp.

Harry spent the rest of his day relaxing, trying not to stress over his first Quidditch match. After dinner he returned to the Slytherin common room and continued reading in front of the fireplace. Eventually Harry found the common room too crowded and too noisy and retreated to his bed. No sooner than did Harry lay down did he find himself tired and turned in for the night.

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. Most of Slytherin and Gryffindor had taken to either mocking each other, sneering, glaring, or supporting their players.

Harry did his best to eat despite his complete lack of appetite. If not for the pestering of his friends and teammates he'd manage to eat 2 pieces of toast, some sausages and a few sweets Draco had taken from Crabbe and Goyle.

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. Draco had joined Pansy, Blaise, and Theodore in the Slytherin decorated stands. Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their green

Quidditch robes. Flint stood up and shouted at his team. "Oi, listen up you lot. The Hogwarts Quidditch Cup has said Slytherin on it for the last 5 years. I don't think it's time for that change. Do you?" Flint asked rhetorically.

The rest of the Slytherin team answer though. "NO!" They shouted. Harry felt his nervousness start to fade. Even if he was terrible, this was a team that had maintained its winning streak long before he got there and he'd be told that he was better than the previous Slytherin Seeker.

"That's right! Now, we're gonna go out there and show Hogwarts why Slytherin Wins!" Flint said as he lead his team onto the Quidditch Pitch.

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 Flint.

"Mount your brooms, please." Hooch said to all players. Harry clambered onto his 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."A third year Gryffindor, something 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." There was a sudden outcry from the Gryffindor audience. "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 score. And he gets it in."

The Slytherin stands bursted in applause and horays as green sparks shot out of them. Harry clapped furiously and raised a fist over head with pride as Flint accepted the quick acknowledgement from his teammates before the game quickly resumed.

"An excellent attempt by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Quaffle is back in play, 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."

Harry watched and waited. He knew the Snitch was his top priority, but when a opposing team has an unchallenged advance he couldn't just let it happen.

"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! Oh, she passes to Katie, who passes back to Angelina and, WHERE DID HE COME FROM!" Slytherin cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Gryffindors.

Harry had flown in deep and hard to position himself right in front of Johnson. Effectively clothe-lining as she speed towards the goal posts. No foul was given as the Seeker had not interfered with a Quaffle in motion. Harry had come in contacted with a Chaser who was in possession of the Quaffle, that was fine and within the rules.

With Flint recovering the Quaffle Harry continued looking for the Snitch. Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch or other ways he could screw with the Gryffindors. This was part of his and Flint's game plan.

"Keep out of the way most of the time, only if you see the Snitch or a really good opening do you come in" Flint had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be." When Flint scored again, Harry had let a few choice insult close of the Gryffindor stand to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch.

Once he 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 Harry dodged it. No thanks to the Slytherin beaters.

"All right there, Harry." Flint had time to yell, as he glared at his Beaters. Harry nodded and continued his search for the Snitch.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - is that the Snitch". A murmur ran through the crowd as Puecy dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. New Gryffindor Seeker Kenneth Towler 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.

Harry was faster than Towler. He could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead, he put on an extra spurt of speed. Harry was nearly within range of the Snitch, but only just soon enough he notice that the Snitch was rapidly leading Towler and himself into the Hufflepuff stands.

Harry knew he wouldn't be able to stop fast enough so he jerked his broom to the left and went into a roll. He had hoped his sudden change in momentum would prevent him from crashing into the solid cedar stands. Harry was holding on for dear life when he finally came out of his roll. The world came back to him and he found himself hovering next to one of the Black and Yellow flags that adorned the stand,

He quickly rejoined the game thankful that Towler hadn't been able to catch the Snitch during his emergency maneuver. He noticed that all three of Gryffindor Chasers were approaching the center line with the Quaffle in their possession. Rapidly passing to each other to avoid being targeted specifically. Harry shot after them. If he could interrupt their play then hopefully one of Slytherin's Chaser could get the Quaffle.

Harry dodged a Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back towards the half mark - he had half a mind to ask Flint to call time-out - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

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 - A no...

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went. "Come on, what's Harry thinking" Draco Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand. As he managed to pull himself, to his surprise the snitch just floated past his foot as it slowly descended.

Without a second thought Harry launched himself off his broom and dove after the snitch. It was obvious that the snitch had not noticed him as it was still travelling downwards rather than shooting off in another direction. Harry was closing fast on both the Snitch and Solid Ground. 50 feet, 40, 30, 20, 15, 10, finally 5. As he heard the screams and the loud sweep of another broom, he found himself hanging by his ankle.

He looked up and found Marcus Flint. Legs locked around his broom, both hands on Harry left ankle. "You crazy son of a bitch! Did you even think about landing, I should just let you go" Flint shouted at him, clearly distraught. Harry was just smiling at him with a manic grin. "What the hell are you grinning about, you nearly got yourself killed trying to get the, no way!" Flint looked down in disbelief.

Harry laughed out in joy and shot out the Snitch clutched tightly in his hand.

"SLYTHERIN WINS"