Quidditch Discoveries
Charles
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake was 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 of the season: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship. Charles was quite excited for it, and he was ready to cheer his brother on.
The day before the match, Charles was out in the freezing courtyard during break with Ron and Hermione, who had conjured up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. She had become a great friend of theirs when they had saved her and Lyra from the troll that day, and it was lucky, as she now relented and helped them with their homework sometimes.
They were standing with their backs to the jar, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Charles noticed at once that Snape was limping. He moved closer as he saw Snape heading towards Lyra and her Slytherin friends, who were not too far from them.
"What's that you've got there, Black?" Charles squinted and saw that it was Quidditch Through the Ages. Lyra showed him the book.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Detention."
"He's just made that rule up," Charles muttered angrily as Snape limped away. They walked towards the Slytherins. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"
"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.
Lyra rolled her eyes. "He just hates me and Charles 'cause of our dads, and he favors me in Potions 'cause I'm good at it."
"You want me to try and get it back?" Harry asked, coming up behind them. Charles jumped a little.
Lyra shrugged. "If you can."
Harry
Harry had been feeling restless all day, so he was only relived at this distraction as he made his way to the staff room. He knocked at the door. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.
Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside - and a horrible scene met his eyes.
Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. 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 - "POTTER!"
Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.
"Sorry." Harry left quickly, and sprinted back upstairs.
At dinner that night, when Harry, Jéricho, and Sera joined Adrian at the Slytherin table for dinner, he 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 I saw him -- he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"
Yes, Harry, along with the twins and Adrian, had already been to the third-floor corridor in search of an adventure ages ago. Jéricho and Sera, like the sensible children they were, had disapproved.
Sera'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."
Adrian voiced his agreement. "Honestly, Sera, not all teachers are saints or something," snapped Jéricho. "And I know he's your head of house, Ace, but I'm with Harry on this one. At least, he can't be discounted like that, so he's a suspect at the least. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"
Harry frowned. "You remember that breakout? Charles told me he saw Hagrid clearing the vault, leaving with a brown package..."
Lyra
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." Daphne insisted.
"I don't want anything." Lyra insisted.
"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Theo.
"I'm not hungry." Lyra felt terrible; her nerves were shot. In an hour's time, she'd be walking onto the field.
She had aced the tryouts, borrowing Jéricho's broom. It was a secret, of course. She was the new seeker, with Terrence being reserve. Only a select people knew, yet. Slytherins, mostly, along with Jéricho. No one else.
"Lyra, you need your strength," Blaise said. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."
"Thanks a lot, Blaise," Lyra frowned, watching him pile ketchup on her sausages. "That makes me feel so much better."
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.
Daphne, Blaise, and Theo joined Draco up in the top row. As a surprise for Lyra, they had all learned a fireworks charm, and it sparkled in the air. Meanwhile, Charles, Ron, and Hermione had decided to make their own banner which read 'Potter for President', drawn by Charles, who was good at drawing.
Harry
In the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes. Wood cleared his throat for silence.
"Okay, men," he said.
"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.
"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."
"The big one," said Fred.
"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.
"This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years." Continued Harry, grinning. "We're going to win. I know it."
Wood glared at them for saying his speech (Harry and the twins had learned it by heart). "Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
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 a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. He felt warmer.
He also spotted his parents and Sirius in the crowd, and grinned at them. And lastly, he looked again at the Slytherins, and... his heart skipped. Standing there, in place of Terrence, was...
"Lyra?" he gasped. The others were also full-on gaping. Lyra grinned and winked at them. "Hey, cousin. Good luck."
"Mount your brooms, please." Harry shook his head and 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 Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too --"
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry, Professor."
Their 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 -- 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 goal posts, 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 goal posts are ahead -- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- pass to Harry Potter, Seeker and Interfering Chaser -- GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"
Gryffindor's cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.
"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. Lyra 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 Lyra, more experienced, and had a better broom, giving him an advantage. 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 -- A bludger blocked Harry, and his broom spun off course.
The Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
Lyra
It was as Lyra dodged a Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past her head, that it happened. Her broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, she thought she was going to fall. She gripped the broom tightly with both her hands and knees. She'd never felt anything like that.
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck her off. But brooms did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Lyra tried to turn back toward the Slytherin goalposts -- she had half a mind to ask Flint to call time-out -- and then she realized that her broom was completely out of her control. She couldn't turn it. She couldn't direct it at all! It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated her.
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 -- Slytherins score -- A no...
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Lyra's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying her slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Lyra all over the stands. Her broom had started to roll over and over, with her only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Lyra's broom had given a wild jerk and she swung off it. She was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.
Harry was circling beneath her, as if to catch her if she fell. The Weasley twins and Adrian Pucey were trying to reach her, too, and overall the game had stopped. Sirius was near franctic, and James and Lily were trying to calm him down. Jéricho was also running down the stands, worried.
Hermione
Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Lyra, she started looking frantically at the crowd.
"What are you doing?" moaned Charles, grey-faced.
"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape - look."
Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Lyra and was muttering nonstop under his breath.
"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," said Hermione.
"What should we do?"
"Leave it to me."
Before Charles could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Lyra's broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for her to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified. Every time someone got near her, the broom would jump higher still.
Hermione 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 onto the hem of Snape's robes.
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row -- Snape would never know what had happened.
It was enough. Up in the air, Lyra was suddenly able to clamber back onto her broom.
She sped towards the ground and clapped her hand to her mouth as though she was about to be sick - she hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into her hand.
"I've got the Snitch!" she shouted, waving it above her head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
Third Person POV
Sirius hugged the life out of her for nearly ten minutes, while Harry bemoaned his first-ever loss, and to his cousin, no less. But she hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan grouchily shouted the results - Slytherin had won by one hundred and seventy points to one hundred.
As Lyra was on her way with Harry to Hagrid's Hut, she was joined by Daphne, Blaise, Charles, and Hermione.
"It was Snape," Charles was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
"That's utter rubbish!" Daphne scowled. "Did you not look closely enough? Quirell was doing the same thing! I was about to do something myself when you set those flames."
"Also, the broom stopped jerking the minute you bumped into Quirell, Granger," Blaise added.
Charles protested, "But Snape hates Lyra! And Quirell's a stuttering mess, anyway. As if he could want to kill her!"
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Actually, it's pretty ingenious. No one would ever suspect Quirell, and everyone would point at Snape."
Blaise and Daphne smirked as if to say, 'I told you so!'. Hermione humphed, and Charles bristled, "Not you too, Harry!"
Lyra sighed. "C'mon, guys. Both are suspects for now, 'kay?"
Harry added. "But he tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. I think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."
Hagrid heard that last bit and 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 Charles eagerly.
"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."
"But Snape's trying to steal it." Charles insisted.
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
"No, I think it was Quirell," Daphne said.
"They're both professors." Hagrid frowned.
"So why did he just try and kill Lyra?" cried Hermione. "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 Lyra's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all 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 Charles, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looked furious with himself.