CHAPTER TEN !

QUIDDITCH
( the philosophers stone )

_________________

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, Raven and Harry would be playing in their first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Raven or Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Raven and Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that Harry was playing Seeker and Raven was the new Chaser, had leaked out somehow, and the twins didn't know which was worse—people telling them both they'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath them holding mattresses.

It was really lucky that Raven and Harry now had Hermione as a friend. The two didn't know how they'd have gotten through all their homework without her, what with all the last minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent them Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Raven and Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Apollo and Ron had saved her and Raven from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Raven and Harry's first Quidditch match the five 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. Raven noticed at once that Snape was limping. Raven, Harry, Apollo, 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, Potters?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Raven 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 Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

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

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Raven, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Apollo had joined them. Hermione was checking Raven, Harry and Ron'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.

Raven felt restless. She wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back to read with Harry and to take her mind off the nerves about tomorrow. Why should she be afraid of Snape? Getting up, she told Ron, Apollo, and Hermione she was going to ask Snape if she could have it and pulled Harry along with her.

"Better you than me," they said together, but Raven had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

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

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. Harry pushed the door ajar and peered inside—and a horrible scene met the twin's 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?"

They tried to shut the door quietly, but—

"POTTERS!"

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

"We just wondered if we could have our book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

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

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

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

"You know what this means?" she 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'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 Harry and Raven. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Raven went to bed with her head buzzing with the same question. She tried to empty her mind—she needed to sleep, she had to, her and Harry had their first Quidditch match in a few hours—but the expression on Snape's face when they 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 Apollo.

"I'm not hungry."

Raven felt terrible. In an hour's time she'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, Raven, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team and Chasers just as well.

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

Raven just sat horribly nervous about the match as she heard Apollo talking to Harry.

"Just have a slice of toast. I know you feel like your going to throw up, but it'll be worse to play on the field with an empty stomach." Apollo says.

She saw Harry nod and take a bit of the toast while smiling at Apollo.

"Raven? Can you please eat something?" Hermione tried.

"I'm not hungry." Raven mumbled.

"You'll feel better if you eat something before the match. Please just have some toast and juice or something," Hermione pleaded.

"Alright." Raven mumbles again. She drank some of her orange juice and ate a small slice of toast giving Hermione a smile which she happily returned.

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.

Ron, Apollo, and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry and Raven, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potters 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.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry, Raven and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

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 Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry and Raven, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry and Raven followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

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. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Raven thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potters for President over the crowd. Her heart skipped. she felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Raven clambered onto her Nimbus Two Thousand and watched Harry so the same.

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."

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 Raven Potter, 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!"

Apollo, 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. Raven's been doing amazing as a Chaser."

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

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan. Raven knew this.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop the loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward 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 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. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs 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 Higgs—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—Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

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."

"Raven looks as though she's about to kill Flint." Hermione mumbled.

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 Potter, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Raven dodged another 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 never felt anything like that. She noticed Harry's broom doing the exact same thing.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck her off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Raven tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts—she had half a mind to ask Wood to call time out—and then she realized that the broom was completely out of her control. She couldn't turn it, 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 Potter—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 Raven and Harry's brooms were behaving strangely. It was carrying them slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Raven and Harry thinks they doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say they'd lost control of the brooms . . . but they can't have. . . ."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at them all over the stands. The brooms had started to roll over and over, with them both only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. The twins brooms had given a wild jerk and Harry and Raven swung off it. They were now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"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 and Flint didn't hit Raven."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Raven and Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"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 Raven and Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

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

Apollo grabbed the binoculars to get a better look at Snape.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

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

"Come on, Hermione," Ron 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, Raven and Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to their brooms.

"Neville, you can look!" Apollo said. 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.

Raven loudly cheered in the air even though she thought Harry was stupid to dive like that.

"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. Raven and Harry were being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron Apollo, and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione, Apollo, and I saw him. He was cursing your broomsticks, 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?"

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

"We found out something about him," she 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?" Raven repeats.

"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 to kill Raven and Harry?" cried Hermione. She was terrified about Raven almost falling on the field. Harry too but Raven worried her more.

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 Raven and Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all five 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.