As the weather turned colder with November, the mountains around the school became icy grey 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 pitch, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit-fur gloves and enormous beaverskin boots. Elowen became increasingly glad that she and Harry had invested in a full new wardrobe. The Scottish mountains were colder than she thought Privet Drive had ever been, and their threadbare old clothing would have done nothing to keep them warm. Warmer though, than the thick winter clothes and the fires throughout the castle, were the friendships that had become even stronger in the wake of the troll.

The weekend after Halloween, Elowen had asked the Weasley twins (who knew every inch of the castle and then some) where she might find an abandoned room for her and her friends to hang out in. They'd directed her to several, and then, uncharacteristically serious, had made her promise that if they were getting into anything dangerous, they would come get Fred and George first. Elowen was sure they'd thought she, Harry and their friends would be trying advanced magic or potions and wanted to be there out of concern for their brother's safety, but she'd shrugged and agreed anyway, then pulled Harry out of the common room to go decide on a room.

The room they eventually settled on, comfortably between the dungeons and Gryffindor Tower, had a painting of a great snake as the door, which slithered around its frame and opened when the twins hissed a hello at it in the snake-speak. The room was a comfortable circular size, and full of dusty sheets covering soft chairs and couches. A few tables were pushed against the wall under a large round window that overlooked a garden the twins had never seen before and further away, the lake.

It was perfect.

They gathered Ron, Hermione, Neville and Draco in there the same weekend, and as the twins hissed to open the door, the three purebloods in the group exchanged looks.

They had barely sat down when Ron and Draco turned on the twins with matching looks of exasperation and offense.

"Why didn't you tell me you're a Parselmouth?" they asked simultaneously, then glared at each other.

"You two are much more alike than I thought," Hermione remarked in an amused tone.

Draco sniffed. "I am nothing like Weasley."

"If you say so," Hermione said doubtfully. "What's a Parselmouth?"

"Someone who can speak to snakes," Neville answered. "It's supposed to be really rare…"

"Wait, the snake-speak?" Elowen blinked and looked at Harry, then back at their friends. "We've been doing that for years."

"The snakes in Aunt Petunia's garden made for interesting conversations when we were stuck out there all day," Harry added. He cocked his head. "Not all of them would talk back though. Never figured out what that was about."

"That snake in the zoo was just being rude," Elowen grumbled. "He definitely could've responded before we accidentally trapped Dudley in his enclosure."

Harry rolled his eyes. Elowen had complained at length about this in the weeks after it happened. "You have got to let that go."

"Hey! Potters!" Draco clapped to get their attention. "You haven't told anyone else about this have you?"

"Honestly slipped our minds. Why?"

"Parseltongue is supposed to be a really Dark ability," Neville explained. He swallowed and added, "The last known Parselmouth was You-Know-Who."

"Salazar Slytherin himself was said to talk to snakes," Draco chimed in. "That's why Slytherin House has a snake mascot."

"That's not in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione said.

"It wouldn't be," Draco said. "That book has been revised so many times to remove anything the Ministry decided was Dark. It was in older versions though."

"Ok, so what?" Elowen asked slowly, looking between the magic-raised ones. "We should keep it between us?"

"For now, at least." Ron looked around. "This place is wicked. Why'd you bring us here?"

"It's a place to hang out, study together, whatever," Elowen said. "Basil, the snake, has agreed to be a password protected portrait hole, so it's only for us and whoever we allow in."

"Basil?" Hermione asked.

"We asked him what kind of snake he is and he said he's a basilisk."

"So you named him Basil?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"It's easy to remember!" Harry defended.

"Basil the basilisk."

"Anyway," Harry said loudly over Ron's snickering. "Elowen thought it'd be a good place to talk about everything that's been happening."

"Oh, good, I've been very concerned about what you get into," Draco said.

The Gryffindors explained everything that had happened so far — the duel-that-wasn't with Nott, the Cerberus, the Gringotts break in — to Draco. When they finished, the blonde's mouth hung open.

"We've only been here for two months, how have you already managed to find so much trouble?" he asked finally.

"We wouldn't have even found the Cerberus if Nott had shown up to the duel," Ron pointed out petulantly.

"Why were you accepting a wizard's duel for Harry in the first place, Weasley?" Draco shot back.

"And let him look like an idiot for not knowing?" Ron snarked. "Nott would've never let that go." Draco couldn't deny that he had a point.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the newly named Den ("both snakes and lions live in dens, Ronald, it's appropriate!"), filling the bookshelves ("I have so many books in my trunk; we can start our own library!" Hermione ran from the room) and cleaning it up ("my mum uses this charm all the time when cleaning, can't be that hard," Ron told them, waving his wand about.

Neville sighed. "We're first years, Ron."

Draco scowled when Ron almost hit him for the third time. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! Blubber!" A little elf in Slytherin green popped into existence and was asked to clean the room. Things went much faster after that).

When dinner rolled around, the group left the room and watched as the twins hissed goodbyes at Basil before traipsing down to the Great Hall, satisfied with themselves.

~~~

At that moment, miles away, there was a room full of glass balls deep underneath London, behind a door which proclaimed it the Hall of Prophecy. Inside, a long forgotten glass ball, older than nearly every other thing in the building, sat dull and covered in dust. It suddenly glowed bright green-gold and pulsed with magic, before settling back to swirling grey smoke, looking brand new.

A few rooms down, an empty chamber holding just an archway. At the same moment the glass ball lit up, the runes on the archway glowed a bright green. Had anyone been in the room, they would have said it was the exact color of the killing curse, and been deeply unsettled by the loud yet unintelligible whispers that filled the room.

As it was, both events went unnoticed by anyone, and would continue to do so for many, many months.

~~~

Two weeks into November, tensions in the halls began to ramp up. You could hardly walk without coming across someone throwing a hex or jinx at another student. Elowen asked Aster Abernant what was going on, and was not impressed by the answer they gave: The Quidditch season had begun.

The first game of the season was always Gryffindor v. Slytherin, and the second was always Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw. The winners of those two games played the third game and the losers the fourth. The Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw games were much less… violent in the preceding week. Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, however, ramped up.

"It's actually much tamer this year," Abernant told her as they surveyed the great hall. A Slytherin had hit a Gryffindor with a tooth-growing spell and Paige Murphy, looking very annoyed, was docking points. "My second year, my brother got his ribs broken by a bludgeoning hex." Abernant had a brother in the same year as them in Slytherin, and having seen the two of them start physically fighting in the corridors for reasons unknown to anyone around them, Elowen thought maybe broken ribs was not as unusual as it was sounding to her.

"Don't worry," Abernant told her as the bell rang and they got up from the table. "After Saturday, this'll all die down. Henry'll be fine."

This was only mildly reassuring. Elowen looked over at her twin, who was looking more and more nervous sat between Ron and Hermione.

On Saturday, Harry would be playing his first match. Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Oliver Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out, and 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 really was lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have got through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do ("this is not going to become a regular thing," Hermione told him sternly as she tugged his half done homework out of his reach. "Just this once, until Wood calms down.") She had also lent him Quidditch through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry 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 the twins, Draco, and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and they all thought she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match, Harry, Ron and Hermione were out in the freezing courtyard during a 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 Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. The trio moved closer together to block the fire from view; they weren't sure it would be allowed.

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.

"What's that you've got there, Potter Two?" Harry had been Potter Two all week and he was 90% sure it was because he was on the Quidditch team.

Harry showed him the book he was holding — Quidditch Through The Ages.

"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," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "I don't care what El or Draco say, he hates me." He tilted his head, watching Snape limp. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

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

~~~

The Den was quieter than normal that evening. Elowen, Draco and Neville were off in the library having their study group (now expanded to include Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass). Ron was trying to teach Hermione to play magical chess, a fruitless endeavor considering Hermione was the worst of the group at the game. Harry had abandoned his Charms homework and was staring out the window.

He felt restless. He wanted Quidditch through the Ages back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

He made his way down to the staff room and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing. He hesitated outside the door. Maybe Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door open just a bit and peered inside – and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees and 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?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but the hinges creaked and –

"POTTER TWO!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped and opened the door fully.

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

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Harry left, before Snape could get up or take any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs to the Den.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. He took in Harry's flushed face and heaving chest. "What's the matter?"

In between pants for air, Harry told them what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! 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 Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape."

"I don't know," Hermione said doubtfully. "Isn't Snape Draco's godfather? Surely he wouldn't do anything that would put Draco in danger."

"Well, Draco wasn't exactly supposed to be in danger," Ron reasoned. "But what I wanna know is, what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

They didn't come up with any answers by the time they left the Den, and Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind — he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours — but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

~~~

Saturday morning was bright, clear 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.

"Harry never eats when he's nervous, Hermione," Elowen said from next to her. She reached across the table and set a bowl of plain porridge in front of him, giving him a stern look. "Eat."

Harry felt terrible — in an hour's time he'd be walking on to the pitch — but under his sister's stern frown, he picked up the spoon and managed a few bites.

"Henry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, 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.

Elowen, Ron, Hermione and Neville joined Seamus and Dean up in the top row of the Gryffindor section. As a surprise for Harry, 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, and Elowen had gotten sixth year Paige Murphy to charm the lion into waving its tail and shaking its head.

Meanwhile, in the changing rooms, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes. They gathered in the Gryffindor team tent, brooms in hand, to prepare to fly out.

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"OK, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

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

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

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

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry in a low voice with a grin. "We were in the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood, but he was smiling as he said it. "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."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the changing room and, hoping his 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, a boy in emerald green Quidditch robes standing next to her. Harry looked up and saw the Slytherin team waiting above the Slytherin captain.

"And here comes the Gryffindor team!" Lee Jordan's voice was louder than the roaring cheers. "Oliver Wood is the new Captain and I have to say, folks, he's got a great team! Last year's Chasers Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell return to the pitch alongside new addition, Alicia Spinnet!" As each of their name were said, they mounted their brooms and hovered in a semicircle above Wood. "Fred and George Weasley, the twin terrors of Gryffindor, playing as Beaters once again! And the first year who shocked us all, Henry Potter as Seeker!"

Harry pushed off the ground and rose up next to Fred and George who winked at him as he smiled back nervously.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," Madam Hooch said, once the both captains stood next to her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth-year like Wood who was tall with big hands and a snarl on his face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please, Captains."

Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint rose up in front of their teams. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose higher and higher into the air until Harry could hardly make out the faces of the lowest row of seats.

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."

Harry snickered to himself. The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was the one doing the commentary for the match and he was 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 Oliver Wood and Gryffindor take the Quaffle – that's 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 Miles Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Harry, now that he was in the game, couldn't remember why he'd been so nervous. This was exhilarating, even the cold of the air was filling him with adrenaline.

Down below the darting Quidditch players, Elowen shivered and tucked her face into her scarf.

"Why in Merlin's name is this outdoor sport started in November?" she grumbled. A voice from down the row a bit interrupted her complaining.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

The first years all 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. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"He's just sort of flying back and forth," Elowen added.

"No trouble with the Slytherin team, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skywards at the speck that was Harry.

"Do you think the slytherin team would target Harry?" Neville asked nervously. "On his first game?"

"Yeh can't put nothing past 'em," Hagrid said knowingly. "They play dirty, everyone knows tha'."

"Can we maybe not talk about my brother being targeted, please?" Elowen's eyes were locked on Harry's form.

Way up above that conversation, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his 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, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let out 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 cannon ball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" 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.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downwards after the streak of gold. The 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.

Harry was faster than Higgs, he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead – he put on an extra spurt of speed –

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below – Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose and Harry's broom span off course, Harry 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, Elowen's wand was in her hand as she glared up at the game. "I'm gonna hex him, I can hit him from here, Neville, let go."

Neville did not let her wand hand go. Next to him, 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?"

Dean explained. Hagrid was on his side.

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

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 Harry dodged another 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 Gryffindor goalposts; he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time out – and then he realised that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He 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 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 – oh 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.

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

"What?" Elowen said, alarmed, and reached over Neville to pull Dean's binoculars out of his hands. She looked through them and locked onto Harry, whose broom was jerking oddly. "What's wrong with the broom?"

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.

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

"If it did, I'm gonna find a way to kill Flint," Elowen snarled.

Neville sighed. "You can't murder Flint, El, he didn't do anything to Harry's broom."

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

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

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

"I knew it," Hermione gasped quietly to him. "Snape – look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering non-stop under his breath.

"He's doing something – jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared, unnoticed by El or Neville. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd were on their feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely on to one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

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 whispered a few, well chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand on to the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realise that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Quickly scooping her flames into a jar she scrambled back along the row — Draco certainly might not appreciate her actions, but Snape would never know she was there.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom and Elowen breathed as she lowered the binoculars.

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

Harry was speeding towards the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick. He hit the pitch on all fours, coughed, and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion as Elowen, Ron and Neville raced down to the pitch.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference – Harry 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.

Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Elowen stuck to his side. Ron, Hermione, Neville and Draco were clustered around the table.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"No way," Draco shook his head. "Sev is my godfather, I know him, he'd never hurt a student."

"Really?" Ron asked with a sharp frown. "Not even a student he hates as much as he hates Harry?"

"Harry does look a lot like James Potter was said to," Neville sided with Ron tentatively. He turned to Hagrid. "Didn't you say Snape and Lord Potter didn't get along?"

"Draco, you have to admit," Elowen said slowly, "it's a little suspicious."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of Hermione had said next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked at each other, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth, having not yet had a chance to tell the other three what had happened last night.

"I found out something about him," he told them. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Draco looked pale at the news. Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

Ron choked on his tea. "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 Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me any more," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," Hermione protested.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione. Draco winced but stayed silent. The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed Hermione's mind about Snape. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

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

Hagrid looked furious with himself, but the damage was done. Later that afternoon, a chalkboard went up in the Den with all the clues they'd gathered so far. Draco wrote Snape's name on it.

"I don't want to believe it's him," he said when he turned to see them all watching. "But there is quite a bit of evidence against him."

"That's really mature of you, Malfoy," Ron remarked.

"Shut up, Weasley," but there was no fire to it. "I'm still going to say I told you so when it turns out that it wasn't my godfather."