This is a work of fanfiction based on the characters and world created by J.K. Rowling in the Harry Potter series. All characters, places, and most magical elements belong to J.K. Rowling and the respective copyright holders. I do not own any of the original material, and this work is purely for fun and not for profit.
This fanfiction is a reinterpretation of the original story where there is virtually no conflict whatsoever and the relationships between the characters are wholesome and full of love. The content is intended for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter 11 Quidditch
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.
Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because 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 somehow, and Harry didn't know which was better — people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him he would be a legend.
It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermoine as a crush. He didn't know how she'd have gotten through all her homework without his help, and he was happy to find the time in between all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She was so grateful she lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.
Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of earning secret points in a Quidditch match and that all of them had been discovered during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch wins seemed to come from them; that although people rarely found themselves "born again" playing Quidditch, referees had been known to be overcome with the Spirit and speak in tongues and start revivals that ended up saving thousands of souls, that included somehow by the grace of God even those of lonely wanderers in the Sahara Desert.
Hermoine had become even more excited about following rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was even nicer than she had been before. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and they invented a spell whereby you conjure up a bright blue fire that can 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 skipping. Harry, Ron, and Hermoine moved closer together to make it obvious they had a fire; they were sure Snape would be impressed. Indeed he was. The fire caught Snape's eye. He skipped over. He always seemed to be looking for a reason to give them all House points.
"What's that you've got there, Potter?"
He was holding Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.
"Good, good. I'm glad to see you're using the library," said Snape. "Keep up the good work. Nice fire, too. Five points to Gryffindor and Slytherin!"
"I freakin' love that guy," Harry said happily as Snape skipped away. "Wonder what's got him skipping today?"
"Dunno, but I hope it'll happen to me today, too," said Ron compassionately.
The Gryffindor common room was very lively that evening. Harry, Ron, and Hermoine sat together next to a window. Harry and Ron were checking Hermoine's Charms homework for her, they would never let her copy ("How will you learn?"), but when she asked them to read it through, it seemed she learned much easier and got the right answers.
Harry felt restless. He wanted to think of different ways of scoring more secret points in Quidditch so he could make history in his very first match. Also, why was Snape so amazing? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermoine he was going to ask Snape if he would be his mentor.
"That's a wonderful idea," they said together, and Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse, especially if there were other teachers listening.
He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.
Perhaps Snape was resting in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside — and a wonderful scene met his eyes.
Snape and Filch were inside, jumping for joy. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was wet and slimy. Filch was handing Snape chocolates.
"Positively adorable thing," Snape was saying. "I want to figure out a way to pet all three heads at once!"
Harry came into the room.
"Hey, it's Harry!"
Snape's face was twisted with kindness as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry smiled.
"I was just wondering if you would be my mentor."
"Absolutely! ABSOLUTELY!"
He acted as though he had been waiting to be asked that since Harry had been sorted into his House. Harry thanked him and left, before Snape could give any more points to Slytherin and Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs.
"Did he say yes?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. "What happened?"
In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.
"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He was making sure the three-headed dog was the right dog for the job! That's where he was going when we saw him — he's also protecting whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he was going to take care of that troll all by himself to protect the school!"
Hermoine's eyes were wide.
"Well, that settles it," she said. "I love him, too. We knew he was nice but now we know he's so loyal to Dumbledore he would risk his life for him and all of us as well!"
"Honestly, Hermoine, you love everyone," said Ron. "But I agree with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what is it he's guarding? What's that dog guarding?"
Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was up playing soft, soothing music on his keyboard, and Harry went right to sleep. His mind was empty — he got the best night's sleep of his life — and the expression on Snape's face when Harry had asked him to be his mentor would be sure to keep him going whenever things might seem a little tough to push through.
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.
"You've got to eat some breakfast."
"What's on the menu?"
"Literally anything you can imagine," chirped Hermoine.
"I'm starving."
Harry felt wonderful. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.
"Harry, you look stronger and more confident than I've ever seen you," said Draco. "You're going to go out there and make history aren't you?"
"Thanks, Draco, and you betcha" said Harry, watching Draco 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.
Ron and Hermoine joined Neville, Draco, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had found. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion and a Slytherin Snake underneath. Then Ron taught Hermoine how to perform a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.
Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).
Wood cleared his throat for silence.
"Okay, men," he said, and then quickly added when he saw Chaser Angelina Johnson, "and women."
"Thank you," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.
"Of course," Wood nodded. "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, "we were on the team last year."
"Harry doesn't know it, so no spoilers," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."
He looked at them all as if to say, "I'm so proud of all of you."
"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to magically turn into pigeons and fly away, walked onto the field to loud cheers.
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 to see everyone having the time of their lives, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year that Harry had gotten along well with in the Slytherin dorms. 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."
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 Chaser Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry, Professor."
The Weasley twins' friend, Lee 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 — 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 sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — 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 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 Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"
Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.
"Budge up there, move along."
"Hagrid!"
Ron and Hermoine squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.
"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around 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."
"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.
Way up above them, 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 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 Weasley's wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball 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 toward Marcus Flint.
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward 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 downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs 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 Higgs — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead — he put on an extra spurt of speed —
WHOOSH! A roar of disappointment echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry in a very sportsmanlike way, and Harry's broom spun off course a little. Harry smiled at the challenge.
"That was a good block!" yelled Harry.
Madam Hooch spoke to Flint and then suggested a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. Gryffindor refused, but in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Give Slytherin a secret point, ref! That was a good block!"
"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.
"It was a good block!" said Dean anxiously. "Don't you get secret points for doing cool things?"
"All he did was block Harry, Dean," Ron reminded him.
Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.
"It wer cool, that was. Flint deserves a secret point."
Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.
"Was that block worth a secret point?"
"I don't know, Jordan," said Professor McGonagall.
"What does the crowd think?" Jordan yelled out.
"Absolutely!"
"All right, all right. A secret point to Slytherin! Amazing block by Flint! 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, excited vibration. For a split second, he thought he imagined it. 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 suddenly invigorated with excited energy and seemed to be faster and handle better than ever. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to become faster and handle better depending on their mood. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goalposts — he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out — and then he realized that his broom was a completely different beast of a broom. He could turn it with the slightest touch. He could direct it with the greatest ease. It was zigzagging through the air, and moving so fast it practically disregarded the laws of physics.
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 didn't break his nose — I know, that did look like it hurt, Professor — Slytherins score!"
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. it was carrying him wherever he wanted it to go, into the fray, like it was anxious to be a part of the action.
"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say his broom suddenly became better… but it can't have…"
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. He had started to do barrel rolls on his broom, zigging and zagging this way and that, tearing up the airspace in ways no one had ever seen before. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry dismounted his broom with a wild jerk and he swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.
"What's gotten into Harry? Did he suddenly change his broom into a Nimbus Ten Thousand or something? I've never seen a broom do anything like that!" Seamus whispered.
"He can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Light magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."
At these words, Ron seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, he started looking frantically at the crowd.
"What are you doing?" asked Hermoine, red-faced.
"I knew it," Ron gasped, "Snape — look."
Hermoine grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.
"He's doing something — blessing the broom," said Ron.
"What should we do?"
"You should go do something."
"Me? I'll probably set him on fire by accident!"
"You've got to believe in yourself, Hermoine! You've got this!"
Before Ron could say another word, Hermoine had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating and speeding around so hard, it was almost impossible for a human being to hang on much longer. Harry could have gotten back on the broom at any time he wanted but still he hung there, showing off. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, mesmerized, as the Weasleys flew up to try and talk some sense back into Harry so he would climb safely back onto his broom, but it was no good — every time they got near him, Harry would zoom away from them. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Harry was fine. Marcus Flint took care of the Quaffle and kept it safe while everyone was focused on Harry. He could have scored five times without anyone noticing but that wouldn't have been sportsmanlike.
"Come on, Hermoine," Ron muttered desperately.
Hermoine had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she did stop to say sorry as she bumped Professor Quirrell a little. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few poorly pronounced and rudimentary words. Bright blue orbs shot from her wand and into Snape's shoes. It took perhaps three seconds before Snape burst into laughter. He was positively tickled to death. The howling laughter told her she had done her job. Swooping down from the stands, she scrambled back along the row — Snape would never know what had happened.
It was enough. Up in the air, Harry's broom calmed down and he reluctantly clambered back on to his broom.
"Neville, look!" Ron said. Neville had been crying laughing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes. Harry had been such a hilarious show-off.
Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick — he hit the field 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 pandemonium.
"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling with laughter twenty minutes later, the whole thing was really funny — Harry hadn't broken any rules by catching it with his mouth instead of his hands and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard all of this. He then went and was made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermoine.
"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermoine and I saw him. He was blessing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermoine looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.
"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to pet that three-headed dog on Halloween. It licked him. We think he was trying to make sure it was a good boy and properly guarding whatever it's guarding."
Hagrid dropped the teapot.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.
"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 anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."
"But Snape's trying to make sure it's well guarded. You're right though, it's none of our business. Sorry for prying."
"Good on him, and thanks for understanding," said Hagrid. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he's bound to do stuff like that."
"Is that why he just tried to bless Harry's broom? Isn't that cheating though?" asked Ron.
"What a cool blessing though, wasn't it?" Hermoine said dreamily.
The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have made her think even more highly of Snape. Ron spoke again.
"I know a blessing 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 don' know if it's cheatin' or not." said Hagrid. "I don' even know for sure if Harry's broom acted any different. Snape migh'a tried to bless Harry but I don' know anythin' fer sure. Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. Don' you pay it no mind. 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.