The Quidditch Match
It was dark, deserted, and eerily quiet when the two men left the pub in the early morning hours.
“I think we should do it at the Quidditch match.” Harry said, as they walked to the apparition point in the alley.
“Perhaps we should select a less crowded venue for our murder plot.” Seve - Snape suggested wryly.
“No, seriously,” He insisted. “We know Quirrell’s gonna jinx the broom. We can use that.”
He grasped Harry’s arm and they turned on the spot, apparating directly into the chamber.
“Alright. Tell me your plan.” He said, once Harry had recovered and his eyes had adjusted to the dimly lit room.
Harry explained his idea to Sever - Snape. To his astonishment, the man seemed impressed. The Polyjuice potion wore off, and they spent the rest of the night strategizing and adjusting the plan until both were sure that it would work in their favor to take Quirrell off the board so publicly.
******
Now that Hermione had become their friend and was willing to help them with their homework, Harry was able to balance Quidditch training, schoolwork, and the late-night planning meetings. Unfortunately, it had become harder to sneak out due to Hermione’s observant and watchful eyes. For the first time since the school year had begun, Harry missed a midnight meeting. He dared not send a message via Patronus, as it could be noticed by any number of castle inhabitants. He would just have to wait until tomorrow night to explain.
The day before the Quidditch match, Ron, Harry, and Hermione spent their free period in the brisk, cold November air of the courtyard. To keep them warm, Hermione conjured a blue flame which they carried around in a jam jar. Harry was reading, while Hermione and Ron came up with increasingly absurd ideas of what could be so deadly in the third-floor corridor, yet still be allowed in Hogwarts.
Snape entered the courtyard and his gaze immediately settled on Harry. “What’s that you’ve got there, Potter?” he asked, gesturing to the book.
It was Through the Looking Glass, the book that the man had given him for his Un-birthday. Harry placed his bookmark and closed the book to show him the cover. Ron and Hermione looked on in thinly veiled confusion. They tried to slide the potentially rule-breaking jam jar behind them, but the movement caught Snape’s eye.
“Potter, come with me. This kind of magic is not to be performed in courtyards and corridors. I’ll be taking that.” Snape said, confiscating the blue flame and dragging Harry along behind him. His long black robes furled out dramatically behind them. Once they were alone, he released his grip on Harry’s robe and cast the Muffliato charm. “Where were you last night?”
Harry sighed. So that’s what this was about. “Hermione was watching me; I couldn’t sneak out.” He said. “I was going to explain tonight.”
“Oh.” Snape said sheepishly. “I thought, perhaps…” he trailed off looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable.
Years of dealing with Ron’s emotional constipation had prepared Harry for this moment. “Last night was great.” He assured the man. “Honestly. It was nice not to be treated like a first-year for a while. And to be out in public without anyone staring at me.”
Seemingly desperate for a change of subject, Snape asked Harry how he was finding the book so far.
“I think I like it.” He said. “It’s a bit odd, but the bit about the Jabberwocky reminded me of Dumbledore’s welcoming speech this year.”
“An interesting comparison.” Se - Snape drawled amusedly. “Return to your friends. We can speak more tonight.”
Harry returned to the courtyard and found his friends arguing vehemently with one another. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Ron has this ridiculous idea that Professor Snape is the one who let the Troll into the castle as a diversion to sneak up to the third-floor corridor for some unknown reason.” Hermione said.
“Hermione, I’ve told you. Teachers aren’t all saints just because they’re teachers. Snape has had it out for Harry for no reason and we saw him sneaking away when we were looking for you on Halloween.”
“It was strange how he approached us today and blamed Harry for my spell work.” She admitted. “And why did he care what you were reading during our free period?”
“It’s like he was looking for a reason to tell us off.” Ron piped up indignantly.
Even without the knowledge of the trapdoor and the creature guarding it, his friends still believed that Sever - Snape was up to something. Maybe changing their fate would be more difficult than Snape had assumed.
******
Harry expertly snuck out of Gryffindor Tower and made it down to the chamber in record time. He waited anxiously for the professor to arrive.
“Don’t sit near Quirrell during the match.” Harry blurted out as soon as Snape entered the chamber.
The man settled down into the transfigured chair before responding. “Why?” he asked.
“Hermione and Ron still think you’re out to get me.” Harry explained. “Even though they don’t know about Fluffy, Ron still saw you heading to the third floor when we were looking for the troll. And they thought the exchange in the courtyard was very odd. At this rate, Hermione will probably still set you on fire at the match tomorrow.”
His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Granger is the person responsible for setting my robes on fire?” he growled.
“She saw you saying the counter jinx and thought you were jinxing my broom.” Harry defended.
“Well, of course.” Snape deadpanned. “The adolescent sleuthing of a first-year completely justifies setting a professor aflame.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “If she believes that I am out to get you, then why do I need to sit elsewhere?”
“You knocked over Quirrell when you were trying to put out the fire. That’s what stopped him from jinxing my broom. If you sit somewhere else, then they’ll know you weren’t the one jinxing me!” Harry exclaimed.
Snape smiled wryly. “This is about what your friends think of me.” He realized. “Very well, I will sit far from Quirrell at tomorrow’s match, just to be safe.”
Harry sputtered indignantly but failed to come up with a response. “Let’s go over the plan one more time.” He said instead.
******
It was the morning of Harry’s second first Quidditch match. He nibbled on his toast and sausages at the Gryffindor table and listened to Seamus, Hermione, and Ron’s words of encouragement. Ron stopped midsentence, staring at something behind him.
Harry spun around and saw Snape. “Good luck today, Potter.” He said. “You may have won against a troll, but Quidditch will be more of a challenge, particularly against Slytherin.”
“Thanks, professor.” Harry mumbled as the man walked away. He quickly scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and left the Great Hall with his friends.
As Ron and Hermione headed to the stands to get good seats for the match, Harry plodded along to the locker room. He was nervous, but not about the game. They had gone over the plan several times in the chamber and he was certain that it would work. It had to work.
He joined the team just before Wood began his inspirational speech. He smiled as his teammates interrupted the captain, as they all knew his speech by heart – including Harry. He walked out behind the twins and scanned the crown while Madam Hooch lectured on safety rules and sportsmanship. The other first year Gryffindors were seated together at the front row of their section. Sev – Snape and McGonagall were seated behind Lee Jordan, chatting amiably about something or other. Quirrell was sitting at the top right of the staff section, far away from the other Heads of House.
They mounted their brooms, Hooch blew the whistle, and the game began. Harry listened to Lee Jordan’s commentary with a small smile as he flew up above the stadium to keep an eye out for the Snitch. He saw the flash of gold and took off like a rocket, hurtling after the snitch beside the Slytherin seeker. Higgs, maybe? He dodged the bludgers and Flint’s attempt to block him. Then it happened. He felt his broom give a lurch as if it was trying to buck him off. Quirrell was jinxing his broom. The Slytherin’s cheered as Flint scored. Harry looked to the stands and saw Quirrell and Snape both mouthing their spells. The broom jerked and rolled, unseating Harry who dangled from the broom as it tried to shake him off. This was it.
Harry muttered the counter curse Snape had taught him and angled his broom towards the stands as he clambered back onto it. As they had discussed, once Harry was back atop the broom, they both stopped chanting the counter curse. Harry was suddenly plunging downwards into the stands. He felt Snape’s magic surround him and steer him wildly towards the back right of the staff section.
Seconds later, a sharp pain seared in his scar as he crashed into Quirrell. The man yelped and then moaned in agony, as he tried desperately to get out from beneath Harry. His skin was turning an angry red, blistering in any spot that had touched Harry’s exposed skin. Someone shouted for Madam Pomfrey, while the surrounding faculty members tried to help Harry to stand. He flailed wildly, touching Quirrell everywhere he could in what he hoped would appear as a clumsy attempt to get back up. He knocked the man’s purple turban askew as the blistering flesh began turning to ash. His pained thrashing caused the turban to fall from his head, revealing the parasitic presence on the back of Quirrell’s head. Those nearby gasped in shock as Quirrell’s moans turned to shrieks and pleas for help from his Master.
But Voldemort didn’t help him. Instead, likely recognizing the futility of the situation, he departed from the body as it crumbled to dust. Voldemort – or, rather, the dark, vapor like substance that remained – screamed in outrage and collided with Harry as he fled. Harry was knocked backward by the force of the collision. Blackness crept into the edges of his vision, and he felt faint. The last thing he saw before the blackness took over, was Severus rushing toward him.