Disclaimer – Everything you recognise belongs to JKR. All the rest is simply me playing in her sandbox.

-oOoOo-

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Chapter 9

Hermione watched wide-eyed as Harry's broom spun wildly across the sky, Harry obviously only holding on by the skin of his teeth. She felt a scream building and slapped one hand over her mouth even as her other hand grabbed at her stomach. She was sure that she'd be sick well before the Quidditch game was even half over.

"Why do people play this game?" she groaned.

"Are you mental? This is the best game in the world!" Ron retorted, spinning around to stare up at her aghast from the seat in front.

"I'm muggle-born like you, Hermione, but I'm with Ron on this one," Dean stated. "This is unbelievable!"

Hermione shuddered. The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had only been going for a little over ten minutes and it was already looking to be the most violent and dangerous game that she'd ever seen.

Fourteen people flying through the air on tiny pieces of wood, chasing after four balls, two of which were magically designed to seek out and injure as many people as possible was insane as far as she was concerned. And once you add in that four of those people, including the unpredictable Weasley twins were tasked with helping those metal Bludgers along towards the other players, it was more than she could stand.

Grudgingly, she had to admit that the flying skills that she was seeing from the six Chasers and the two Keepers was amazing. The way that they seemed to know instinctively where each other was, being able to pass the Quaffle without even looking, had her jaw dropping more than once.

Harry, at least, she'd been happy to see had stayed well away from danger. At least for the first part of the game. He'd flown higher than anyone else and circled the pitch, out of danger. But then, he'd dived into the thickest part of the match, seeking a tiny golden spot that she hadn't even noticed.

That was when Slytherin's keeper, Marcus Flint, had rushed out at him, causing the tiny Gryffindor's broom to spin out of control.

Around her, the spectators were going wild. They didn't seem to feel the same way that she did about the game.

Everyone was on their feet in an instant, roaring either their support – the Slytherins – or their distain at the tactic – everyone else. Even Lee Jordan, the commentator for the match, was yelling abuse at Flint.

If she had her way, she'd get Harry off of that broom and down safe on firm ground and not let him into the air ever again. But she knew that that was simply her fear of heights talking, something that Harry obviously didn't share, at least, not judging by the look of pure joy on his face.

She sighed in relief once Harry had regained control of his broom and sped back to his spot of watching over the game like a hawk. Only to have his broom start bucking and jerking him about.

"What's wrong with Harry's broom?" Seamus asked.

"Can't be anything wrong with his broom," Ron retorted. "That's a brand new Nibus Two Thousand. There ain't gonna be anything wrong with that broom."

"Well, something's wrong," Hermione stated. "It looks like it's trying to throw him off."

She watched, horrified, as Harry was jolted this way then that ever higher by his out of control broom. Around them, the rest of the Gryffindor stands also quickly became aware that something was wrong with their Seeker. Arms were raised and pointed. Gasps and groans and cries of outrage and panic swept across the crowd.

Across the pitch in the teacher's stand, Hermione saw Professor McGonagall standing tall, one hand covering her mouth as her eyes fixated on Harry.

Ripping her eyes upwards once more, she watched as one of his hands came loose and he was slammed face first into his broom. With only one hand holding on, it was inevitable that he'd slip. Harry rolled awkwardly to his left even as his broom jerked to the right, sending him spinning down and around his broom.

For a brief instant, Harry lost his hold with both hands and he was left dangling upside down with only his legs wrapped around the broom for support, tearing a scream from Hermione. Somehow, even with the yanking backwards and forwards, he managed to swing upwards once more to grasp the broom with his hands.

Fred and George, along with Alicia, Angelina and Katie had completely abandoned the game and were circling underneath Harry, evidently hoping to catch him when the inevitable happened. Even Oliver Wood, the most diehard of Quidditch fanatics, had left his post in front of the three rings and was flying as fast as he could towards Harry.

Without warning, Harry's legs came loose and he was left dangling by his hands. Hermione sobbed as she watched his body swinging about beneath the ever jerking broom. One hand came loose and she could see Harry looking wildly down, but by now, he was far too high for her to be able to see the terror that she was sure must be etched on his face.

Once more, Hermione tore her gaze from Harry to look at the teachers. All but two of them were on their feet, horror stricken expressions on their face. Professor Dumbledore had his wand raised, ready to perform some spell to catch Harry, she presumed.

But both Professor Snape and Professor Quirrel were still seated, both with eyes trained on Harry. The way that Professor Snape's mouth was moving, Hermione wondered whether he was offering up some kind of prayer for the boy, which didn't make any sense at all to Hermione, until she belated realised that he must be incanting some kind of spell.

A piercing scream from dozens of voices broke her train of thought and Hermione switched her eyes to the sight of an empty broom floating off by itself. She shot her eyes down to see a small figure plummeting towards the ground.

Tears spilled from her eyes, nearly blinding her from the sight of six crimson and gold cloaked figures converging on Harry.

In one massive bundle, they collided and Hermione's eyes continued downwards, only to realise that all she was seeing was empty air.

Sobbing in relief, she hugged Hagrid beside her as she realised that the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had caught their Seeker.

Cheers erupted around her. Whistles, claps and shouts deafened her. Other girls were crying in relief, just like her and Hermione suddenly realised that all of Gryffindor House had only had eyes for one of their own. Not one had been watching the game since the drama began.

Slowly, awkwardly, tipping first one way then the other, the mass of brooms sunk towards the ground.

Suddenly, when they were still a couple of metres from the ground, a black haired body struggled up to stand straddled between Fred and Oliver's brooms. Then, for some bizarre reason that Hermione couldn't fathom, Harry simply launched himself from the brooms, straight out into the open air.

Hermione watched, her heart in her mouth as Harry plummeted towards the ground.

He landed awkwardly on his feet before rolling over and over. She watched breathlessly as he struggled to his hands and knees and began to cough and splutter and finally threw up into his hand. The silence of the stand was broken as Harry sat up on his haunches and held a small golden ball high in his hand.

The snitch, it had to be the snitch. Hermione didn't know how, but somehow, Harry had the snitch! Looking across at the board, she added the extra one hundred and fifty points to the board an instant before Lee Jordan.

"Harry's caught the snitch! Harry's caught the snitch! Gryffindor win!" his amplified voice was only just able to be heard over the roar of not only the Gryffindor stands, but also the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands as well.

Hermione slumped back into her seat, her jelly-like legs unable to hold her up any longer.

If this was the way that Quidditch matches usually went, she really didn't know if she could stand to watch another.

-oOoOo-

The entire stadium erupted in pandemonium.

Everywhere Harry looked, people were either yelling and screaming, cheering or jeering or running at him. It was this last group that had him suddenly panicking, especially with the grim expressions on more than one of them.

His quidditch team-mates were the first to reach him. All six of them were laughing hysterically at the unexpectedness of their win. Fred and George pounded him on the back and tried to lift him in the air but were fighting a losing battle against the three Chasers.

Alicia, Angelina and Katie had thrown themselves around his neck, hugging him and kissing his cheeks over and over in amongst their laughter. All the while, Oliver was staring at him dumbfounded, the broadest smile on his face and what looked to be tears in his eyes.

"But he didn't catch the snitch!" Slytherin's captain, Marcus Flint was protesting the win. "He nearly swallowed it! It shouldn't be allowed!"

"There's no rule to say that you can't catch it in your mouth," Madam Hooch, the game's referee replied. "The Gryffindor Seeker caught the snitch, that's all that matters. The result stands."

Harry saw the scowling Flint glare at him with daggers in his eyes before storming off to join a bunch of Slytherins that included a Draco Malfoy that looked to be imitating a wide-mouthed frog vomiting.

"Mister Potter," Madam Hooch caught his attention as she attempted to get a word in through the ever growing Gryffindor scrum, "as soon as we recover your broom, I'll be confiscating it until it's been checked over for tampering."

Oliver blanched out of his stupor at the statement. "But you can't! Harry needs his broom for training!"

"Mister Wood," Madam Hooch scowled, "surely you saw that Harry's broom had been jinxed? There's no way that I'm letting him back on it until I've stripped it down and checked it out completely."

Oliver's response was lost in the appearance of the school's medi-witch.

"Let me through, let me through," Madam Pomfrey insisted as she attempted to pry the three girls off of her potential patient. "I saw your fall and the foolhardy leap that you made at the end, Mister Potter. Did you hurt yourself at all? No broken bones or pulled muscles or aches anywhere?"

Harry barely managed to shake his head and ensure her that he was fine before Professor McGonagall's grim expression filled his vision.

"Mister Potter! What in the world caused you to do something so idiotic as to leap those last three metres to the ground without support? No quidditch game is worth intentionally injuring yourself that way!"

"But Oliver said …" Harry protested.

In a flash, Professor McGonagall rounded on her fifth year Quidditch captain. "Wood! What have you been telling this poor boy?"

Oliver's face paled under her fury. "Um, ah, I, ah, I may have, ah, mentioned that I, ah, I expected him to catch the snitch … ordietrying," he finished faintly and in a rush.

"What!" Professor McGonagall exploded. In an instant, she'd caught him by the ear. "Come with me, Wood, I think we need to have a little talk about your priorities."

Just before dragging the poor Wood off, Professor McGonagall paused and turned back to Harry with a small smile on her face. "Well done on winning the match," she said with a nod.

The break in the gathering crowd that the departing professor made was filled with a rush of bushy brown hair.

Harry froze and would have backed away if he could at the sight of the determined face of Hermione running at him. Thankfully, Katie and Angelina were still nicely positioned to keep her at a respectable distance from him.

"Harry, Harry, are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself? You fell from such a height and then to jump that last bit …" she asked in a rush before continuing without waiting for an answer. "That was the stupidest, craziest, most idiotic thing that I've ever seen! You scared me half to death! I don't ever want to see you do that again! Promise me you won't!"

Harry nodded emphatically, not because he was particularly interested in promising anything, but more because the determination in Hermione's chocolate eyes screamed at him that the consequences of disobeying would be far worse than falling off of his broom from fifty metres in the air.

"I promise, Hermione, no more jumping off my broom after the snitch," he said quickly.

"Right, now that that's sorted," said Fred.

"It's time to head to the common room," George finished.

"Gryffindor won! It's time to party!" they grinned together.