Chapter 6:

Jinxes and Golden Snitches

Harry couldn't shake the look Professor Snape had given him. Did he think Harry had gone to take on the troll himself? Harry wasn't sure if Snape had really believed the story about Harry and Ron saving Hermione.

That Hermione had lied so they wouldn't get in trouble, Harry was still amazed about. Ron and He had misjudged her. She wasn't so bad after all.

But, after Halloween, Harry felt sure that Snape was watching him more closely. Perhaps it was all his imagination. Except he kept seeing Snape.

Once when Harry left Professor Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Snape had been in the hall outside. Harry had almost walked into him. Then later during the same week, when Harry and Ron had tried sneaking up to the forbidden third floor, Snape had suddenly appeared in front of them. Harry would have sworn the man had apperated out of thin air. Hermione pointed out it was impossible for anyone to do that in the Hogwarts grounds. There were too many enchantments.

Still Harry wondered. What was Snape up to?

The morning of the first Quidditch match, Harry had other thoughts on his mind. Such as being knocked off his broom, brained with a Bludger and waking up weeks later in the hospital- or worst of all: Losing to Slytherin.

Harry couldn't sleep the night before.

And eating breakfast was completely out of the question. His friends urged him, but no matter how much toast or bacon Hermione and Ron tried to push on him, he couldn't do it. His stomach was too full of butterflies to have any room left for food.

As Harry poked at the toast, a shadow fell over him.

"Good luck at the game, Potter," said a low deep voice.

Harry looked up in bewilderment. Snape's face was void of any smile, but he certainly wasn't sneering either.

"Um… thank you, sir?" Harry said.

Snape's lip twitched. "Of course, perhaps as you have already taken on a fully grown mountain troll, you won't be needing any luck. Even though you are going against Slytherin."

Harry said nothing, staring, questioning if he should speak. Snape cast a glance over Hermione and Ron, then swept by the Gryffindor table.

Harry watched him go, noticing that Snape was limping.

"Blimey, was that odd," Ron muttered also watching the professor."What was that about? Him wishing you luck, Harry?"

"Don't know," Harry admitted.

Hermione leaned over the table. "I bet he was trying to intimidate you," she said seriously.

He doesn't need to try, Harry thought.

When game time approached, Harry began to wish he had eaten something. It was too late, however, as he was putting on his Quidditch robes, shouldering his new broom and filing out towards the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor team.

"Here we go," the team captain, Oliver Wood said.

Harry mounted his broom and zoomed out into the air behind the captain.

As the sound of cheers rose from the stands, Harry's nerves were instantly gone in the rush of adrenaline.

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Snape was up in the stands with the other teachers around the Quidditch pitch. He was watching the two teams fly out with slight inattention.

Little Harry Potter looked ridiculous next to the older fourth and fifth years he was playing with.

Snape automatically clapped as the Slytherin team flew circles over the pitch, roars coming from the stand decorated in green in honour of their House. Even Snape wore a green and silver scarf for the occasion.

However, Snape was feeling uneasy. Why had he spoken to Harry before the game? Offered him good luck of all things. Did he harbour a secret desire that the boy play well? Snape pushed aside these unsettling thoughts as the players rose and faced each other over the field.

Madam Hooch tossed the Quaffle into the air and the game began.

Gryffindor scored twice in the first ten minutes, much to Snape's displeasure. Half of the school was cheering for them, even the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs.

The Slytherins were putting up a good fight, knocking players left and right and snarling insults at the other team every chance they got.

Snape's eyes went to find Harry. He was sitting up off to the right of the Gryffindor's goalposts, watching the game.

Then there was a glint of gold and Harry sprung to life.

The Slytherin Seeker followed suit. The two of them were neck in neck, streaking for the ground. The Slytherin blocked Harry, who almost tumbled off his broom. The Snitch had been lost.

The Seekers drifted back above the action, searching for the Golden Snitch.

Snape took his eyes off Harry to see the Slytherins score a goal.

Then something made his gaze again go back to Harry.

Harry's broom was moving strangely, leaping and shuddering.

A sharp pain hit Snape just under the ribs.

Someone was jinxing the broom.

Snape immediately began to chant under his breath, locking his eye contact on Harry.

Harry was holding on tightly as the broom bucked and shimmied like a wild horse. Snape was doing all he could to keep the broom from shaking the boy off, but it was almost not enough. Whomever was casting the jinx was fighting back.

Sweat was running down Snape's face as he chanted harder.

The broom had thrown Harry. He was clinging on with his fingertips, hanging in midair a hundred feet over the grass, looking down in terror, with nothing between him and certain death.

Snape stared without blinking, muttering the counter-curse.

Harry's fingers were beginning to slip.

A whiff of smoke hit Snape's nose.

"You're on fire!" a voice cried.

Snape's leg was burning. He broke his concentration. The edge of his robes was enveloped in blue flames. Snape stamped it out, hitting several teachers around him as he did.

There was a cheer from the Gryffindors. Harry was again seated safely on his broom. The curse had been broken. Snape gasped, as he hadn't been breathing.

The Snitch was sighted and the Seekers took off.

Harry dodged the Slytherin and leaned low on his broom. It was all over within seconds. Harry tumbled onto the grass and spat the Snitch out of his mouth.

Snape exhaled sharply, his face hot and damp.

The crowd roared as Harry held the Snitch high.

Madame Hooch blew her whistle.

Gryffindor had won.

And Snape was faced with the fact that he had just saved Harry Potter's life.

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