~ Quidditch ~
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school turned icy grey and the lake cold as steel. Every morning the ground was covered with frost.
From the upstairs windows they could see Hagrid, dressed warmly in a long mole-fur coat, rabbit-skin gloves and enormous beaver-skin boots, defrosting the broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch.
The Quidditch season had started. On Saturday the first game of the season would take place: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.
If the Gryffindors were to win, they would take second place in the house championship.
Harry was really lucky that he now had Hermione as a friend. With all the last-minute practice sessions that Wood had scheduled, he wouldn't have known how to get all his homework done without her.
Hermione had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, a book that had interesting things to read.
Stella had also recommended the book to him. She and Ron had tried to tell Lucy and Harry a little more about Quidditch than Wood did in the practice sessions.
The twins learned through the book that there were seven hundred ways to commit a Quidditch foul and that they had all occurred at a 1473 World Cup game.
That Seekers tended to be the shortest, fastest players, and they always seemed to get the most serious injuries; that while players seldom died once, there were times when referees simply disappeared and then reappeared months later in the Sahara Desert.
Lucy really hoped Hogwarts wasn't that bad. But seriously, what bad things could students do?
Ever since Hermione and Lucy were rescued from the mountain troll by Harry and Ron, Hermione didn't see the rules as narrowly and was much nicer to them in general.
The day before Harry's first Quidditch match, the four of them stood outside in the freezing courtyard with Ophelia and Louisa on a break.
Hermione had conjured up a light blue fire for her to carry around in a jar.
They were standing with their backs to the fire, warming themselves, when Snape came across the courtyard. Harry noticed right away that Snape was limping.
The three edged closer to hide the fire from him, for surely it was not allowed. Unfortunately, Snape must have noticed their faces because he limped over to them.
He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to teach them a lesson anyway.
"What's that you've got there, Potter?"
It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."
"He just made that rule up," Louisa hissed angrily when Snape had limped away.
"What's with his leg?" Lucy said and turned back to the others.
"Dunno, but I hope it’s really hurting him," Ron said bitterly.
There were more students than usual in the library that afternoon.
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together by the window. Hermione read through Harry and Ron's Charms homework.
They were never allowed to copy from her ("How will you learn?"), but if they asked her to read through her notebooks, they got the right answers anyway.
Harry was nervous. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back to take his mind off tomorrow's game. And why should he be afraid of Snape? He got up and said he would ask Snape if he could have it back.
Meanwhile, Lucy and her friends sat a few chairs away.
Harry's twin sister was reading a book called 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Ophelia had her nose in another book.
The two girls were so engrossed in their book that they didn't really notice the third girl sitting with them.
"Gosh I'm bored," Stella whined.
The other girl didn't even look up and replied: "Then grab a book."
Stella wrinkled her nose like reading was a bad thing.
"Then I'd rather continue to be bored," she said and continued to stare at the ceiling of the common room.
However, the girls were interrupted in their activities as Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down with them. Harry had just tried to retrieve the book from Snape.
In a low whisper, Harry reported what he had 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 we saw him - he’s after whatever it’s guarding! And I’d bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"
Hermione looked at him with wide eyes.
"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."
"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I’m with Harry. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape. But what’s he after? What’s that dog guarding?"
"It seems to be very important if a three-headed dog guarding it."
~~~~
The next morning dawned very bright and cold.
The Great Hall was filled with the delicious smell of sausages and the happy chatter of everyone looking forward to a good game of Quidditch.
"You've got to eat some breakfast," Lucy said to her brother. He was very nervous about his first game.
"I don't want anything."
"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.
"I'm not hungry."
"Harry, you need strength," Seamus Finnigan said. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."
"Thanks, Seamus," Harry said, watching him spill ketchup on his sausages.
By eleven the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch.
The seats might be high up, but it was still difficult at times to see what was going on.
Ron, Hermione and the others, even though they weren't in Gryffindor sat in the upper tiers with Neville, Seamus and Dean, the tireless soccer fan.
As a surprise to Harry, they had made a large banner out of one of the sheets that Scabbers had ruined and written Potter before Gryffindor on it.
Dean, who was good at drawing, had placed a large Gryffindor lion underneath.
Hermione had then made the picture glow in different colours with a little magic trick.
Lucy was also quite nervous. She had never seen a Quidditch game.
Stella had assured her a hundred times that it was the best sport in the world. And after everything that Lucy had read and heard about it, she was rather sceptical about this statement.
As in every game, Madam Hooch was the referee.
She stood in the middle of the field, her broom in hand, waiting for the two teams.
"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said as they gathered around her.
Harry noticed that she was looking at Slytherin captain Marcus Flint, a fifth year. It seemed to Harry that Flint had a little troll blood in his veins.
Out of the corner of his eye, high above the crowd, he saw the flapping banner proclaiming Potter ahead of Gryffindor. His heart skipped a beat.
He felt braver.
Then Harry saw his sister in the crowd of students. She sat next to her friends. Noticing Harry looking over at her, she waved at him, and he waved back.
"Mount your brooms, please."
Madam Hooch raised her silver whistle to her mouth and blew a piercing whistle.
Fifteen broomsticks rose into the air.
It started.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"
"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall interrupted the boy.
"Sorry Professor."
The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, did the stadium announcer, under the stern ears of 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 -"
Lucy saw Flint dash across the field and throw the Quaffle at the Gryffindor goal rings. She couldn't look, but she couldn't take her eyes off it either.
"- 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 -"
"That was George," Lucy murmured.
At least, that's what she thought. The girl just had a feeling that it was.
"You actually can tell the two apart from here?" Louisa looked at Lucy in surprise.
"Well, something like that," Lucy replied.
"- 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 - misses -"
Lucy didn't dare to breathe. Angelina flew past the other players and…
" - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"
Cheers for Gryffindor filled the cold air, howls and groans came from the Slytherins. Lucy also cheered and had decided that she liked Quidditch and wouldn't miss a game.
"Budge up there, move along."
"Hagrid!"
Ron and Hermione huddled close together to make room for Hagrid.
"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 much to do yet."
"Kept outta trouble, though, that’s somethin'," said Hagrid, putting the binoculars to his eyes and peering skyward at what Harry was.
High above them, Harry glided over the game, looking for any sign of the Snitch. He and Wood had agreed on that.
After Angelina's goal, Harry had done a few loops to vent his joy.
Now he was busy looking for the snitch again.
At one point, it appeared as if a Bludger had decided to head straight for him like a cannonball. Harry dodged him and Fred Weasley swept up behind him.
Lucy could see him angrily smacking the Bludger at 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 went through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, unable to resist turning to look at the golden something that had whizzed past his left ear.
Harry saw it.
With sudden enthusiasm he threw himself down, chasing the golden tail.
The Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs, had also seen him.
They raced head-to-head after the Snitch - all the hunters seemed to have forgotten what to do and hung in midair to watch.
Harry was faster than Higgs -
"Come on Harry," Lucy murmured, biting her lower lip nervously.
He could see the little ball racing in front of him, flapping its wings - Harry picked it up again -
BOOM!
There was a loud roar of anger from the Gryffindors down in the stands - Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose.
"Is that even allowed," Lucy snarled angrily, wanting to say less-than-nice words to smash at Flint's head.
"No it's not," Stella replied, also looking angry.
Harry's broom was now spinning through the air and Harry himself was clinging to it in mortal danger.
"Foul!" the Gryffindors yelled.
The enraged Madam Hooch took on Flint and gave the Gryffindors a free throw. But of course, in all the excitement, the Golden Snitch had disappeared again.
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas yelled, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"
"It's not soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him. "You can't send someone off in Quidditch - and what's a red card anyway?"
"In soccer you get shown the red card and you’re out of the game," explained Lucy.
Hagrid was on Dean's side.
"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."
Lee Jordan found it hard not to take sides.
"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating -"
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled.
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul…"
"Jordan, I'm warning you-"
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure -"
"Of course. It happens to me all the time," Stella commented. Lucy couldn't help but laugh at Lee's comments.
"- so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
It happened as Harry dodged another Bludger that skidded dangerously close to his head.
His broom suddenly gave a terrible jerk. For a split second he thought he would fall.
He gripped the broom tightly with both hands and knees. He had never had such a feeling.
It happened again. As if the broom was trying to shake him off. But a Nimbus Two Thousand didn't suddenly decide to shake off its rider.
Harry tried to turn towards the Gryffindor gates - and now he realized that the broomstick was no longer obeying him at all. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't control it at all anymore.
He zigzagged through the air, making angry swerves at short intervals that almost knocked him off his feet.
Lee was still commenting on the game.
"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 cheered. No one seemed to have noticed Harry's broomstick acting strangely.
Almost nobody seemed to have noticed. Lucy, who had been watching her brother throughout the game, had noticed that Harry's broom was suddenly acting strangely.
He slowly carried him higher, jerking and twitching, away from the game.
"Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his broom… but he can’t have…"
Suddenly people were pointing at Harry all over the stands. His broom was now rolling in circles, incessantly, and Harry could only hold himself with the last of his strength.
Then the crowd groaned. Harry's broom had made a violent jerk and Harry had lost his footing. He was hanging in the air now, one hand on the broom handle.
Lucy drew in a sharp breath. Unfortunately, she couldn't help her brother, although it was her first instinct.
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.
"Can’t have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can’t nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic - no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."
At that, Hermione grabbed Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she quickly scanned the crowd.
"What are you doing?" Ron moaned grey-faced.
"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape - look."
Ron, Lucy and Stella took turns raising the binoculars to their eyes.
Snape faced them in the middle of the tiers. His eyes were fixed on Harry, and he kept muttering to himself.
"He’s doing something - jinxing the broom," Hermione said.
Why would Snape hex Harry's broom? Lucy wondered. It could also just be a coincidence. Snape could just try to memorize a poem.
With Edgar Allan Poe, Lucy could understand.
"What should we do?" Ron's voice snapped the young girl out of her thoughts.
"Leave it to me."
Before any of her friends could say another word, Hermione was gone.
Ron aimed the remote throttle back at Harry.
His broom jerked so violently that he could hardly cling to it.
All the spectators had stood up and watched in horror as the Weasleys followed up and tried to pull him onto one of their broomsticks, but it was no use.
Every time they got close to him; the broom immediately rose even higher.
They lowered themselves a little and circled underneath Harry, apparently hoping to catch him if he fell.
Marcus Flint grabbed the Quaffle and scored five goals without anyone noticing.
"Come on, Hermione," Ron mumbled desperately.
Hermione had fought her way to the bleachers where Snape was standing and was now hurtling down the row of seats towards him.
She didn't even stop to apologize as she shoved Professor Quirrell headlong into the front row.
Reaching Snape, she pulled out her wand, crouched on the floor, and whispered a few well-chosen words.
Light blue flames licked up from her wand to the hem of Snape's robes.
It took Snape maybe half a minute to realize he was on fire.
A sudden howl told her she'd made it.
She drew the fire from him into a small glass jar she had in her pocket, then stumbled back through the line - Snape never knew what had happened.
But it was successful.
Stella smirked and turned to Lucy, who still didn't take her eyes off Harry.
High in the air, Harry was suddenly able to climb back onto his broomstick.
"Neville, you can look!" Ron shouted.
Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.
Lucy grabbed Stella's jacket but still couldn't look away.
Harry was just hurtling towards the ground when the crowd suddenly saw him clapping his hand over his mouth as if he were sick - he fell on all fours onto the pitch - coughed - and something golden fell into his hand.
"I've got the snitch!" he yelled, waving his arms, and the game ended in utter confusion.
After a few moments of confusion, everyone realized that Harry had caught the snitch.
And with that, Gryffindor had won.
The students ran onto the field to congratulate the team.
"Harry, that was great. I'm so proud of you," Lucy said, hugging him.
He hugged her back. Then they tipped themselves on the shoulder and fist bumped.
"Thank you," Harry said. "At times I was really afraid that I wouldn't make it and fall off the broom."
"Bullshit. You're a natural."
That was true and Lucy was already looking forward to the next games.
That was the day Lucy fell in love with the sport.
And who knows, maybe Lucy would eventually play on the team too.
"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still yelling twenty minutes later.
But it didn't help anymore- Harry hadn't broken any rules and the blissful Lee Jordan was still calling out the result- Gryffindor had won by a hundred and seventy points to sixty.
Of course, Harry didn't hear any more of that.
At the back of the forest, in the hut, Hagrid brewed him, his sister and their friends a strong cup of tea.
"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you."
"Rubbish," growled Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had been said in the stands next to him. "Why would Snape so somethin' like that?"
The friends looked at each other, unsure what to tell him. Harry chose the truth.
"I found out something about him," he explained to Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."
Hagrid dropped the teapot on the stove.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he asked.
"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 steal it."
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort."
“So why did he just try and kill Harry?” cried Hermione.
What had happened that afternoon had obviously changed her views of Snape.
"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 not saying Snape is innocent, but we're first years and we don't know anything about evil curses yet," Lucy said.
She had also read a lot about curses, but she would never say she knew about curses by the age of 11.
"I’m tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. “I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three 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 Harry. "- so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looked furious with himself.