AS THEY ENTERED NOVEMBER, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like 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 after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship. Finn was a little worried about him.

It was really lucky that Finn now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her. He was grateful that she helped him.

  Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Finn, Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Finn had noticed at once that Snape was limping. Finn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off 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's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Finn stared in shock as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?" Finn asked.

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

  The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Finn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking the boy's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

  Watching as Harry was suddenly getting up, Finn asked where he was going and Harry told him, Ron, and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

  "Better you than me," Ron and Hermione said together, but Finn decided to go with him,

  They both made their way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. Harry knocked again. Nothing.

  Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. Finn and Harry pushed the door ajar and peered inside—and a horrible scene met their 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 and Finn both tried to shut the door quietly, but—

  "POTTER!"

    "BLACK!"

  Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Finn gulped.

  "I just wondered if I could have my book back." Harry said.

  "GET OUT! OUT!"

  Harry and Finn left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. They sprinted back upstairs.

  "Did you get it?" Ron asked as Finn and Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"

  In a low whisper, Harry told them what they had seen.

  "You know what this means?" Finn 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 Harry's broomstick he let that troll in, to make 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," snapped Ron. "I'm with Finn and Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

  Finn went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Finn couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind—but the expression on Snape's face when he and Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

  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."

  "I don't want anything."

  "Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

  "I'm not hungry."

  "Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

  "Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

"Harry, please eat something, you've got too." Finn said. He took a piece of his own toast and ripped it in half, giving Harry some. Harry half-heartedly smiled and ate the half of the toast.

  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.

  Finn, Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

After long last, Finn had finally saw Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team walk out into the field. They got into their places, the whistle was blown, and 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."

  The Weasley twins' 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, 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—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—misses—GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

  Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

  "Budge up there, move along."

  "Hagrid!"

  Finn, Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

  "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 had much to do yet."

  "Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

As the game went on and Gryffindor scored, Finn grabbed the binoculars and watched as Harry dived from his spot, knowing he spotted the snitch.

Just as he was speeding up to it, Marcus Flint hardly shouldered Harry and he was knocked away from it.

  "Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

  Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

  "What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

  "Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

  "But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

  Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

  "They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Finn nodded, agreeing with Hagrid. He was worried about Harry.

  Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

  "So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

  "Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

  "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, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

  Lee was still commentating after a while as the game went on.

  "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 . . ."

  "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 up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

Finn hurriedly grabbed the binoculars to see Harry was dangling from his broom. He was trying to see if anyone was doing anything in the crowd.

  "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 these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars from Finn, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd, as Finn did.

  "What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray faced.

  "I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape—look."

  Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

  "He's doing something—jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

  "What should we do?" Finn asked frantically.

  "Leave it to me."

  Before Finn could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good—every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

  "Come on, Hermione," Finn muttered desperately.

  Hermione had 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, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

  "Neville, you can look!" Finn said with relief. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

  Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick—he hit the field on all fours—coughed—and something gold fell into his hand.

  "I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

  "He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference—Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results—Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Hermione, and Finn who was hugging him tightly. He was filled with relief that Harry was okay.

  "It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione Finn and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

  "Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

  Finn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

  "I found out something about him," he told 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.

  "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 Harry eagerly.

  "Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

  "But Snape's trying to steal it." said Finn.

  "Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

  "So why did he just try to kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

  The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about 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 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.