Disclaimer: Quidditch commentary was taken directly from "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" by JK Rowling.

A Game to Remember

"Slow down a bit, Harry!" Hermione whispered from across the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

"Me?" Harry asked, perplexed. "I don't think Ron has taken a breath since we got to breakfast."

"Hab zo!" Ron exclaimed defensively, his mouth full of eggs.

"Chew, Ronald. Then talk," Hermione advised before turning back to Harry. "You're a first year about to play in your first ever real Quidditch match. Something tells me you wouldn't likely have much of an appetite."

"But I'm hungry," protested Harry.

"Honestly, Harry! Here. You gnaw nervously on this bit of toast and I'll sneak some fruit into your pocket before you go that you can snack on when nobody's looking."

"You're a lifesaver, Hermione, you know that?"

"All right there, Potter?" Oliver Wood asked from behind the ersatz nervous 11-year-old boy. "I see you've gone for the toast this morning. Not much of an appetite, eh?"

"I'm a bit nervous," Harry falsely admitted.

"Don't be, you've been doing brilliantly in practice! I was just saying to Katie how much you've improved just within the last week or so!"

"Thanks, Wood. I just hope it'll be enough to beat Slytherin."

"Slytherin's not so tough. Mostly talk, really. Just watch out for their Beaters, they like to play dirty."

"Thanks, Wood," Harry said in the sarcastic voice of a boy who was not particularly reassured.

"Seriously though, make sure you eat something. I'll not lose a game just because my Seeker passed out from hunger. See you later, then!"

Harry offered up a half-hearted smile to Wood as he walked off to eat his own breakfast.

"You were right about the toast, Hermione. As usual."

Hermione beamed but held down the 'I told you so.'

Not long afterward, Harry was gathered with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, getting ready to start the match. Wood was giving the team his idea of an inspirational speech, and Fred and George were saying the lines before Wood would get a chance. Because they'd been on the team the year before, the twins knew the speech by heart. Even as a 16-year-old, Harry still found this funny.

Finally, it was time to step out onto the field, where practically all of the students of the school were cheering at the top of their lungs. Harry could remember that, as a first year, he was worried about his nerves causing his knees to give way. Now, his only concern was whether or not Hermione would get to Snape before his broom flung him to the ground, and even that wasn't much of a concern. She did it the first time, and that was when she wasn't even expecting it. So really all he had to worry about was catching the snitch, just like in any other game.

Harry looked up to the Gryffindor stands to find his friends, and found that they weren't hard to spot. They were with Neville, Seamus, and Dean, as they had been originally, and they had the familiar 'Potter for President' banner that they'd made for Harry as a surprise. They waved down at their favorite Gryffindor seeker and Harry waved back before sending Hermione a thumbs up, wishing her luck on her mission.

The match was about to start, so all fourteen players, half in scarlet, half in green, gathered around Madam Hooch, the referee.

"I do hope Harry will be all right!" Hermione exclaimed, playing the role of an uptight first year for Neville, Seamus, and Dean's benefit.

"Stop worrying, Hermione, he'll be fine!" Ron declared, playing along.

"Don't people usually attack the Seekers more than anybody?" asked an anxious Neville. This version of Neville was so much more timid than the one that fought alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the Ministry of Magic. Hermione found it kind of cute.

"Of course, the team that catches the Snitch almost always wins," Seamus said matter-of-factly. Neville seemed to grow even more nervous.

"Oh, calm down, Neville. Nobody's been killed in a Quidditch game in years," Dean stated reassuringly.

"There you are, Ron! Mind if I join you all?" exclaimed Hannah Abbott, who seemingly appeared out of thin air.

"Hannah!" said a surprised Ron. "What are you doing here? I… thought you'd be sitting with your Hufflepuff friends."

"It's no secret that everyone here is rooting for Gryffindor! Well, everyone except the Slytherins that is. I figured it'd be all right."

"Why didn't you tell us about your little girlfriend, Ron?" Seamus teased. Dean laughed, Hannah blushed, Ron grew red behind the ears, Neville smiled shyly at Hannah, and Hermione shot Dean an angry look.

"I'm not sure if that's allowed, Hannah-" Hermione began.

"Oh, nobody's gonna know! All of the teachers are over there," Dean pointed out.

"Sure, Hannah. You're welcome to join us," Ron said, not knowing what else to say but feeling pretty certain that he was going to get a telling off about it later from Hermione for changing the past or something.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and fourteen kids on broomsticks shot high into the air. Harry stayed slightly above the action, like Wood told him to, so that he wouldn't be attacked before he caught sight of the Snitch. The rest of the players, however, wasted no time in going at it. Recalling that he had a little time before anyone would see the Snitch, Harry pulled an apple out of his pocket and began to munch while he watched the familiar events unfold below him.

"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-" Lee Jordan, a friend to the Weasley twins and the commentator for the school Quidditch matches, was saying.

Harry made slow circles around the pitch as he watched and ate, all the while feeling nostalgic to be back on his old Nimbus 2000. It was the first broom he ever owned, and he'd been very fond of it. Discovering that it had been broken beyond repair during a match in his third year had hurt worse than the aftermath of the fall he'd taken. Of course, he loved his Firebolt very much, and the fact that it was a gift from his now (or, technically, future)-dead godfather only served to add to its sentimental value. But it was still very nice to be able to interact with one of his favorite possessions from his past, especially considering the fact that he hadn't had too many possessions throughout his childhood worth calling his favorites.

"GRYFFINDORS SCORE!" exclaimed the enthusiastic voice of Lee Jordan after Angelina Johnson scored the first goal of the match.

By way of celebration, Harry threw his arms into the air, accidentally dropping his half-eaten apple as he did so. The juicy bit of fruit fell 100 feet or so, landing on the head of one of Slytherin's Chasers. Harry nonchalantly flew to a different area of the pitch before the chaser could figure out what had happened.

As it turns out, it was lucky that Harry flew over to where he did, for he caught sight of the Snitch almost immediately, right by the ear of Slytherin Chaser Adrian Pucey, who was distracted by the little golden ball and dropped the Quaffle.

Harry dove for the Snitch and within seconds found himself neck-and-neck with Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs. The whole situation gave him a feeling of deja vu, and he remembered what happened next just a little too late. Marcus Flint blocked Harry, spinning him off course. A foul was called, and Gryffindor was allowed a free shot at the goals, but the Snitch had gotten away. Just like last time.

At this point, Harry started hanging onto his broom for dear life, knowing that Quirrell would begin jinxing his broomstick at any moment.

Hermione knew this as well.

"Pardon me!" she said quickly to the others, including Hagrid, who had joined them in order to get a better look at the game. She left without any explanation, hoping to get over to the stands where the teachers were sitting before Harry had to battle a rogue broomstick for too long.

"Where is she going?" asked Dean.

"I dunno, the bathroom or something maybe?" Ron offered, trying to cover for his fellow time traveller.

"Maybe I should have offered to go with her…" Hannah wondered aloud.

"You girls don't always have to go to the bathroom in packs, you know," Seamus pointed out.

"Well, considering what happened to her on Halloween I'm surprised she feels that way!" Hannah countered.

"Quiet, you lot, somethin's the matter with Harry's broomstick!" Hagrid exclaimed.

Everyone quickly returned their attention to the game.

"Oh my God! What's happened?" asked Neville before he turned and clung to Hagrid.

"Maybe Flint did something to it?" Seamus offered.

"'Course not. On'ly Dark magic can mess with a broom like tha,'" Hagrid said matter-of-factly.

"Poor Harry! Somebody's gotta do something!" Hannah exclaimed.

"Hang on, Harry!" Ron called, trying to play the part of a concerned friend even though he knew Hermione had it covered. He used his binoculars to look over to the teachers' stands where, sure enough, both Snape and Quirrell were concentrated on some sort of spell casting. Although Hermione kept herself well concealed, Ron did see the back of Snape's robes catch fire, and he managed to hold down a snicker, knowing that Harry would be all right.

Again. How had he managed to do this again?

It seemed as though Hermione had been successful in recreating her rescue plan. Harry had been too busy practicing his rodeo skills to watch for it, but he took the fact that he, once again, had control of his broom to be evidence of his friend's success.

Now, however, he could feel little wings fluttering about his mouth, trying to escape, accompanied by a taste that could only be explained as metallic. Again. It had happened again. He managed to stop his fall this time and pulled up to steady himself before spitting the Golden Snitch into his hands. He rose higher in the air, holding the little golden ball above his head in triumph to the soundtrack of hundreds of cheering voices.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" exclaimed an ecstatic Lee Jordan.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gathered in Hagrid's Hut for tea.

"You know who jinxed Harry's broomstick don't you?" Ron was saying, setting the stage for their little conspiracy theory. "It was Snape!"

"Nonsense-" Hagrid began.

"No, really!" Hermione cut in. "I saw him through my binoculars!"

"You weren' even there! Yeh'd ran off!"

"Well, I stopped and watched once I realized what was happening to Harry! Look, I've read about jinxes! I know one when I see one."

"Snape's a teacher! Why would he wan' ter hurt Harry, huh?"

Ron groaned in false frustration.

"He may be a teacher, but he was trying to get passed that three-headed dog on Halloween. That's why he's limping, it bit him!" Harry exclaimed.

"Wait, how do you three know about Fluffy?" Hagrid asked.

Hermione nudged Ron under the table.

"Ow! Er… You call that thing Fluffy?" Ron sputtered.

"Well… yeah. He's mine. Bought him off this stranger I met down at the pub once, and now I'm lendin' him ter Dumbledore to guard the-" Hagrid stopped short, realizing he was getting into a topic that he shouldn't be discussing with his guests.

Hermione nudged Harry under the table.

"Ow! Er… To guard what, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"No way! Yer not hearing that from me," Hagrid said defiantly.

"Fine! But Snape definitely tried to get passed your Fluffy and he definitely tried to kill Harry today," Hermione claimed.

"You three listen to me. Ain't no way Snape's trying to kill Harry. And you forget about Fluffy, too. That's none of your business, it's between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel!" Hagrid said.

"Nicolas Flamel?" Harry repeated.

Poor Hagrid sighed and put his head in his oversized hand, wishing he would learn to keep his mouth shut.