As we entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey, and the Black Lake like chilled steel. Every morning, the ground was covered in frost, and Hagrid could often be seen from the upstairs windows, defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

After the first week, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had to give up on our research. We'd drawn a complete blank, plus Harry was being made to do a ridiculous amount of last-minute Quidditch practice, as the Quidditch season had now begun. The following Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first ever match after weeks of training — Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If we won, we'd move up into second place in the House Championship.

To say that Oliver Wood, the captain and Keeper of the team, was obsessed with winning the Quidditch Cup would be possibly the biggest understatement anyone had ever made in the whole of human history. From what Harry had told the three of us, it seemed to be all the older boy wanted in life. Thus, the unnecessary amount of practice sessions he was making the team have.

Wood had decided that, as the team's secret weapon, Harry should be kept — well, secret. But the news that Harry was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, so our first full week of November was mostly made up of people interrupting whatever we were doing to tell Harry either that he'd be great, or that they'd be running around underneath him, holding a mattress.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since the mountain troll incident. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match, the four of us were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and Hermione had conjured us up a bright blue fire, which could be carried around in a jam jar. We were standing with our backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the courtyard. He'd been limping ever since Halloween, and today was no different.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I moved closer together to block the fire from view; I was sure that it wouldn't be allowed, and it seemed they thought the same. Unfortunately, something about the others' guilty faces caught Snape's eye, and he limped over. He didn't seem to have seen the fire, but I could tell he was looking for a reason to tell us off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages, which Hermione and I had both practically forced Harry into checking out of the library. He showed it to Snape.

"Library books are not to be taken outside of the school," Snape said. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

I thought about saying that actually, under the library guidelines first written in 1912, and still upheld by Madam Pince, school books were allowed to be carried around the entirety of the castle and its grounds. In fact, you were even allowed to take them home for the holidays so long as you let the librarian know that was what you were doing, and returned them after that holiday. But then I thought of what Snape might say to such a comment — what Father might say if he found out — and I kept quiet.

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily, as Snape limped away. Then, not for the first time, he said, "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," Ron said bitterly.

***

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I sat together next to one of the windows, having managed to get there before most of the others had arrived. Window seats, along with the armchairs by the fire, were the favourites of the majority of the Gryffindors, and as such, required you to be fast in order to grab them.

Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway. I wondered if this had occurred to her. Probably, I decided — after all, she didn't usually seem to miss such obvious things, and it wasn't likely she'd started doing so now.

For a while, Harry was twitching about and fiddling with a button that had been lying on the floor next to his chair, tapping his foot on the floor the whole time. Then, he stood up.

"I'm going to go and ask Snape to give me Quidditch Through the Ages back," he announced.

"Rather you than me," Ron and Hermione said together.

I grinned at them, then said, "Try heading to the staffroom, Harry. Snape can't exactly refuse to revoke his made-up rule if there's other professors listening."

He nodded, then crossed the common room, and disappeared through the portrait hole.

Ron and I started up a conversation about wizard's chess as we waited for Harry to return.

"See, I don't understand why the pieces have to have so many opinions," I grumbled. "It's not as if they can actually feel when they get attacked, and they always just get repaired anyway..."

My voice trailed off as the portrait hole opened again, and Harry came hurrying back over, having been gone for ten minutes at the maximum. There was no book in his hands, but his face carried a very odd expression.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked, as Harry sat down. Then, noticing the look on his face, he said, "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told us what he'd just seen in the staffroom.

"Snape's leg was all mangled," he said, "and Filch was handing him bandages. And Snape said, 'How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?' And then as soon as he saw me, he dropped his robes to hide his leg and screamed at me to get out — honestly, he looked like he wanted to kill me." He paused. "You know what this means?"

"He tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween," I finished, nodding as my mind fitted the pieces together. "That's where he was going when we saw him heading to the third floor — and that's why he's been limping since then."

"He's after whatever it's guarding," Harry said, as though this was a known fact. "And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to create a diversion!"

Hermione'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."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," Ron snapped. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape."

I frowned, thinking for a moment. Then, I softly said, "I'm not so sure."

"Oh, bloody hell, not you too—"

"No, listen, Ron," I said. "Saying that Snape's trying to get the thing under the trapdoor doesn't fit all the facts. Don't forget about Quirrell apparently being in the dungeons when he should've been at the Halloween feast, and his sudden lack of a stutter when he announced there was a troll there."

"I still think Snape's controlling him," Harry said. "There must be potions that act in the same way as the spell you told us about before, Pandora — even if most people don't know about it. Maybe he's been using that?"

"It's a possibility," I conceded, thinking it over. "But how would — oh! Snape and Quirrell always sit next to each other at the High Table, don't they? It would be so easy for Snape to slip something into Quirrell's goblet without being noticed!"

"Exactly," Harry said, nodding. "But this just leads us back to the same question we keep asking."

"What's he after?" Ron said. "What's that dog guarding?"

***
A/N: hhhhhh sorry this is a couple days late, I think I must've stopped my alarm reminding me to update this book, then immediately proceeded to Forget.

Also, TYSM FOR 10K READS!!! Honestly I'm so grateful that so many of y'all are reading (and hopefully enjoying??) this book 😊

If any of y'all have requests, ideas, etc about things I could add, please comment them!! The more cliché the better, bc this book seems to have lost a little of its clichéness since I moved into canon events, but anything's appreciated! I love hearing what y'all wanna see in the book, and tbh your ideas are frequently wayyy better than my own 😂

Word count: 1326