Chapter Ten - Fall From Grace

The first Quidditch game of the year had arrived, and the school was abuzz with looming anticipation. Slytherin verses Gryffindor always provided a good show. In particular, this year, rumour was focused on the new Gryffindor seeker.

Harry groaned, hiding his head in his hands.

"It's nothing to worry about, Harry. You don't have to do anything but try your best," said George, patting Harry lightly on the back.

"And anyway, even if we do lose, the bookie always wins. Isn't that right, George?" Fred smirked.

"I can't believe the teachers allow this." Hermione said from her seat at the breakfast table next to Harry. "Gambling is a terrible habit."

"We might not have been able to secure a bet on it," said George , ignoring her, "but we did overhear some of the second year Gryffindors discussing whether a dragon might appear to duel you on the pitch mid game."

Harry almost choked on his pumpkin juice. "A dragon?" He exchanged a look with Hermione.

Fred laughed and ruffled Harry's hair. "Don't worry, Harry. The odds are low."

Harry tried to hold back a yawn. They had handed off Norbert to some of Charlie's friends last night, and he was starting to regret agreeing to do so the night before a game. In the end, though, the relief to be rid of that problem was probably worth it. Hagrid couldn't handle any more scrutiny for mishandling of magical creatures after his stern telling off for the troll incident.

Ever since the troll attack last week, Harry had been unable to make an appearance anywhere without leaving a trail of whispers in his wake. He couldn't remember it ever being so bad, except, perhaps, in his second year, when he'd spoken Parseltongue in front of half the school. It would have been nice to have his cloak.

Harry wiped his mouth and left his plate unfinished, getting up from the table.

He felt an odd sense of tension as they walked towards the stadium. On one hand, he felt like sprinting down to the pitch so that he could just get started, but on the other, he felt like running back to the castle and locking himself in his dorm. He and Sirius had been preparing for this moment for a while, considering their strategy from as many angles as they could think. Harry was sure they had found the best course of action, but he couldn't help but worry. Quirrell was proving to be someone Harry couldn't afford to underestimate. What if things played out differently this time, like with the troll?

Perhaps as a result of Harry's elevated status in the Hogwarts rumour mill, the Quidditch stands were packed even more than usual and the circular venue rang with the echo of conversation and pre-emptive chants.

Oliver Wood was pacing in front of the team.

"You all know the steps needed to deliver the win today. We've studied our enemy and we know their strengths and their weaknesses. We have a plan on how to win, and we know how to make it happen." He stopped and faced Harry, who was holding back a smile.

"You have one job, Harry. To stop Higgs from catching the snitch before our chasers demolish the score line. Can you do it?" He didn't wait for Harry to respond. "Yes you can."

He returned to the middle, "Brooms ready?"

"Let's rinse those bastards," said Angelina Johnson.

"Like a soggy loin cloth?" George added.

Wood ignored him and pointed at Angelina. "Exactly. Let's go, team."

Wood mounted his broom and flew out of the entrance to the pitch. The chasers followed quickly after and Harry followed Fred and George. The sound of the crowd hit him like a physical force as he entered the bright sunlight of the generous Autumn day. He followed his team in a circle around the pitch, grinning as the adrenaline started to kick in.

"GRYFFINDOR'S BEST BADLY KEPT SECRET — HARRY POTTER — IS THE NEW SEEKER FOR OUR FAVOURITE SQUAD," Lee Jordan's voice boomed through the stadium.

Harry made a second, slower round after his teammates flew off. He put on his best innocent smile as he passed the teacher's box. Sirius waved at him and Harry saluted before speeding off.

Back in the box, Sirius turned to Professor Flitwick on his left and smiled.

"Sorry if I get on your nerves, Professor. I tend to talk quite a lot so I hope you don't need to concentrate too much." He turned to his right, "You too, Professor Quirrell."

Flitwick laughed, waving him off.

"That's no problem, Mr Black," said Quirrell. "Truth be told, these games can get quite boring without some additional entertainment."

Sirius smiled thinly. "Maybe its just my bias showing, but I have reason to think this won't be a boring game."

Quirrell's eyes tracked Harry as he soared through the sky. "Perhaps you are right."

The Gryffindor team muttered, exchanging dark glances as Professor Snape flew onto the pitch, whistle in hand. Wood flew over to them, whispering, "Clean game, you lot, don't give him an excuse."

Harry was thoughtful. Snape hadn't refereed last time until the second game of the season, after Quirrell's attempts to curse him at the first Quidditch match. Harry wondered what had prompted the change.

From the very start of the game, Harry followed Wood's plan. As the quaffle was launched into the air, Harry flew straight at the Slytherin seeker.

Harry laughed as he heard the boy yell from the near collision. One of the Slytherin chasers cursed as he nearly collided with his distracted teammate.

As the match got into gear, Harry doggedly attacked the personal space of the opposing seeker, 'coming in like a falcon' as Wood had instructed.

"HARRY POTTER IS SHOWING NO MERCY TO THAT BIG SLYTHERIN LAD. BIGGS? NO IS IT PIGGS?

"It's Higgs, Jordan!" Growled Professor McGonagall.

"I'M SORRY, HIGGS, FREUDIAN SLIP."

Harry spared a glance, whenever he could, to the teacher's stand, where he could see Sirius often and animatedly talking to Quirrell, interrupting the man's line of sight with exaggerated gestures. Harry grinned. He just had to wait for the score to get far enough in Gryffindor's favour before he left his Slytherin counterpart alone and looked for the snitch.

Harry focused on the game, occasionally looking to the stands to make sure everything was alright. He also kept as close to Snape as he could, just in case Quirrell managed to get a curse off amidst Sirius' distractions.

Almost two hours had passed and nothing had happened. The score was 250-110 to Gryffindor and Harry was nearly at the point where he was allowed to look for the snitch, rather than run distraction.

Lee Jordan, by this point, had run out of much to say.

"AND ANOTHER GOAL FROM BELL, THE BEAUTIFUL GRYFFINDOR CHASER, SOMEONE SHOULD GIVE HER A RING."

He danced out of Professor McGonagall's reach, "BECAUSE SHE'S A BELL OF COURSE, HAHAHA."

Harry decided to go slightly higher before his next dive attack, just in case he could see the snitch and end the game a little early. While he respected Wood's strategy, it hadn't taken into account the fact that Harry wasn't, in fact, a beginner on his broom. It was time to prove his worth.

The definition of faces and chants bled away as Harry ascended beyond the stands and into the sky above the pitch. He circled, eyes flickering between the players on the pitch and the spaces in-between where the snitch might be hiding.

Harry was watching the Slytherin team score with a scowl when his broom started to nosedive.

At first, Harry thought he'd been caught in a downdraught and tugged lightly at his broom to correct his course. Harry had to yank harder and harder as his attempts at pulling out of the downwards dive completely failed. The broom picked up speed and Harry started to panic. He made to remove a hand and grab his wand, but it was impossible. No matter how hard Harry pulled, his hands remained stuck to the broom.

The wind howled in his ears and battered his face as the ground grew ever closer, his broom practically vertical.

As Harry re-entered the airspace of the stadium he could hear the booming sound of Lee Jordan commenting on Harry's dive for the snitch. At some point the Slytherin seeker had latched onto Harry's path and was diving just behind him. Harry cursed, focusing in on his hands that were stuck to the out of control broom. He started yelling whatever spells he could think of that might do anything, but he knew no spells to undo a curse.

"Expelliarmus! Reducto! Incendio!"

Nothing happened. How on earth did he counter a cursed broom?

Higgs pulled back as the ground drew close enough to make out the blades of grass. The air was screaming in his ears.

A memory of Hermione and a cursed bludger flashed in his mind and Harry shouted, "Finite Incantatum!"

His broom buckled beneath him and Harry had to use all his strength to keep from sliding off. The broom was unresponsive, an inert piece of wood and Harry tumbled through the air with it clutched uselessly between his legs.

Suddenly, the enchantments kicked back in. Harry pulled up as hard as he could.

He rammed into the ground feeling a sudden, sharp pain, then nothing.

Harry slowly woke to a pounding headache and the sound of shouting all around him. Madam Pomfrey was kneeling next to him, muttering spells as she pointed her wand at his leg. A crack made Harry flinch, though he felt nothing.

"Is he alright, Madam Pomfrey?" Oliver Wood knelt down, looking a bit pale.

"I've fixed the worst of it, he'll just feel a bit bruised for a while." Madam Pomfrey said, helping Harry sit up. "How is your head, Mr Potter?"

Harry groaned, bringing a hand to the back of his skull, which was still pounding.

"You probably have a concussion," Madam Pomfrey sighed. "It's a miracle you only broke a few bones. I don't know what you were thinking, diving like that."

She turned to Wood, annoyed. "I hope this wasn't your plan, Mr Wood."

Wood stuttered a denial.

Harry's thoughts started returning to their proper order and he glanced at his Nimbus, which was lying next to him, broken into two pieces. Quirrell had managed to curse his broom, despite all their planning.

Madam Pomfrey tutted and moved to help Harry stand up. "Right, to the hospital wing with you. Can you walk?"

Harry tested a few steps, and, while his legs felt a little funny, they didn't hurt. "Yes, I think so."

"We'll help him up there," Wood said, and Madam Pomfrey nodded, walking briskly away.

"You have to pull out of a Wronski Feint, you realise, Harry?" Fred said with a nervous laugh.

"That wasn't—" Harry tried.

"Leave him alone, you lot," said Katie. "It was his first game."

Harry looked at their sullen expressions.

"We lost, didn't we." Harry said.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," said Wood, patting his shoulder. "It's not your fault. I took a bludger to the head two minutes into my first game. Didn't wake up for another two weeks. It really could be worse."

"Fred tried to use his forearm as a beater's bat in our first game," said George. "Turned out to be a bad idea for his bones."

Harry laughed, but stopped immediately, clutching the back of his head as it pulsed with pain.

"Let's get you to the hospital, eh?" Wood said, leading Harry by the arm. Harry started to pull away. He needed to tell someone he had been cursed.

The were interrupted by the Slytherin team landing in front of them. Snape landed just behind them and walked over slowly.

"I didn't realise that you were aiming for worst seeker of the century alongside youngest," Marcus Flint said with an ugly smirk, drawing laughs from the rest of the Slytherins.

"Were you looking for this?" Higgs said, holding out the golden snitch.

Harry sneered at him.

"Shut up, Higgs," George said, walking up next to Harry.

"A poor performance from you, Weasley," said Adrian Pucey. He turned to Harry. "I suppose you're going to say a Dementor was chasing you or something?" They all laughed. "Not so impressive now are you, Potter? Out here where everyone can see the truth for themselves."

Snape had now reached the stand-off and looked like he was about to say something to Harry, but instead just frowned.

"Enough, back to the changing rooms, all of you. I will escort Mr Potter to the hospital wing."

Wood's hand on his shoulder tightened briefly, but Harry looked at him, "It's fine, Wood. I'll see you all later." To be completely honest, Harry was relieved that Snape was here, though Quirrell was unlikely to try anything with Harry now on the ground.

"Harry!"

He looked over to see Ron, Hermione, and Neville rushing over, followed by Sirius.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione yelled as they approached. She looked at Professor Snape, who was the only one left standing by Harry now that the two Quidditch teams had started to fly off.

"It's okay, Professor. We'll take Harry to the hospital wing," she said quickly, face a bit red.

Snape looked like he was about to disagree, but at the approaching form of Sirius he held his tongue.

Ron and Neville caught up to her and nodded. At their concerned expressions Harry gave a reassuring smile.

"Harry!" Sirius called out as he approached. He rushed to Harry's side. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry nodded. "Madam Pomfrey's fixed me up, I've just got a bit of a headache."

Harry gripped Sirius' arm and whispered. "Sirius, my broom was cursed. It just started diving and I couldn't do anything."

Sirius looked stricken, "I don't know what happened, Harry. I was distracting him the whole time."

Harry had no idea what to think.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "You did everything you could."

Sirius clenched his fists, anger slowly replacing his previous look of guilt.

As he stepped away, Ron, Neville, and Hermione stepped closer, eyeing Sirius who was stalking towards Snape.

"Let's go, Harry." said Ron.

Harry was led by his friends towards the stands, but they all turned their heads as the sound of raised voices rang behind them.

Sirius was pointing at Snape and shouting something while Snape sneered at him and said something back. Teachers were rushing towards the scene, and McGonagall had to place her hand on Sirius' shoulder before Sirius made any move to stop.

Harry felt a strange conflict in him as his friends pressed him onwards. He was distressed seeing Sirius act like that, especially since Snape had probably been trying to protect Harry by refereeing this game. On the other hand, Sirius was standing up for him. Harry just wished Sirius had chosen the right target.

Harry's friends didn't seem to share his reflections.

"Go on, Mr Black," said Ron, looking slightly gleeful at seeing the confrontation between the two.

Harry focused on making his way back up to the castle, his legs aching and head still dull with pain.

As they passed through the entry hall, Neville turned to Harry. "There's no way that was an accident, Harry. Something happened, didn't it?"

They all turned to him and Neville blushed. "You managed a more difficult dive than that while catching a Remembrall and carrying me on your broom. There's no way you crash like that unless something went wrong."

Harry didn't like where this was going, and shook his head. "No, it was an accident. I just lost track of my speed."

Neville frowned, while Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

"Honestly," Harry said. He really didn't want his friends getting any more ideas. They were already only a few details away from piecing together the philosopher's stone. Harry had no intention of involving them in whatever plan he ended up making to deal with Quirrell. He was beginning to realise how dangerous the man was.

Harry was eventually released from the hospital wing, once Madam Pomfrey was happy that he was suffering no long term affects.

His friends ambushed him outside.

"Harry," Hermione said in a loud whisper, pulling him by the sleeve until they reached an empty classroom. "Someone is trying to kill you."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "What?"

"We think someone is trying to kill you," Ron said, earnestly.

Harry tried to laugh it off. "Don't be ridiculous."

"No, for real, Harry," said Neville. "We think it might have something to do with Nicholas Flamel."

Harry shushed them. "Didn't Hagrid already tell you? Whatever is going on there is between Nicholas Flamel and Dumbledore."

"But we think Snape is trying to get at whatever Fluffy is guarding," Hermione said, eyes urging Harry to believe her.

"Snape?" Harry laughed. "You've got it wrong. Look, I don't know what you think is going on, but please, just leave it alone. You don't need to worry about it."

"Because you're worrying about it?" Hermione pressed.

"What? No!" Harry said, scoffing. How had they grown so suspicious all of a sudden? "Can you please just drop it. My head still hurts and I want to just go to bed, please."

Hermione opened her mouth to continue but Ron tugged at her robe and gave her a look.

She sighed. "Fine, but don't think we'll just give up. You can let us help, you know."

Harry just rolled his eyes and strode out the door. He yelped as he collided with someone, falling back into Neville's steadying hands.

"Malfoy?"

Draco steadied himself against the wall, looking shocked. He cleared his throat. "I was just coming to the infirmary."

Harry blinked, whatever. He strode past him.

"Wait, Potter!" Draco called.

Harry turned to look at him.

"I don't believe it, that you crashed by accident. I think someone did something to your broom."

Harry frowned. "I didn't claim that."

Draco shrugged. "I saw your dive in our flying lessons. I don't know what happened but I'm just saying, I don't believe it. A lot of people in our year don't."

Harry felt rooted, overwhelmed by the novelty of that revelation. A lot of people in his year believed in him?

Harry nodded uncertainly. "Uh, thanks?"

Draco nodded, and a bit awkwardly turned back the way he'd come.

"See, it's not just us," said Neville.

Harry frowned, a bit baffled. This was a very different Draco to the one he'd known.

When Harry arrived back in the common room, conversations paused as people looked at him. He received some commiserating looks, some amusement, and some disgust. Harry ignored it and went to sit down by the fire.

"Here he is," Alicia Spinnet said, shooting him a look of sympathy. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

Harry sighed, relaxing back into the chair. "Like shit."

Fred snickered from the floor, where he was playing a game of exploding snap with a few others.

"I'm afraid your stocks have tanked, Harry," said George. "Quite literally, in one sense. A fair few people lost bets on your performance today."

Harry shrugged. "Their fault for betting in the first place."

Angelina gave him a sour look from beside Fred, and Harry just raised his eyebrows back at her.

The next day held a similar mix of responses from the student body.

The older Gryffindors seemed to leave a berth around him wherever he went, as if getting too close would associate themselves with the disappointment of losing Quidditch. The Slytherins, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of him.

"I heard that you're part mole, Potter. Is that why you tried diving into the ground?"

"Potter is actually the best seeker in the school. Most people just don't realise he plays for Slytherin."

At first, Harry had just ignored it, used to worse comments than that. However, he'd also overheard some more unexpected things from his classmates.

Ron, Neville, and Hermione defended him, of course. Susan and Ernie on the other hand, were a surprise. The most unusual moment had been when Harry had overheard, in the library, Draco calling Nott an idiot if he 'thought Harry would crash like that'.

Before too long, it seemed like a conspiracy had taken hold of half of the first years. Harry was ridiculed, but only in the corridors, and not in his classes where it seemed he actually had some allies for the first time he could remember.

Too bad he had to keep his mouth shut about the truth. While Harry was grateful for this show of support, his eyes constantly trailed Quirrell, just hoping that this trend wouldn't draw the man's attention to any of Harry's friends. Harry could deal with the idea of being targeted. He could look after himself. His friends, on the other hand, could not. Harry had to keep them in the dark. It was the only way.