The New Trio and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 11: Quidditch

*

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Neville, Ron, Draco, and Hermione sat together next to a window, doing homework. Or rather, Harry, Neville, and Draco were doing their Transfiguration homework, and a reluctant Hermione was checking through Ron's Charms homework. The trio was fortunate, each of them excelled in different areas, and would often help one another for their least favourite subject, and if they didn't know something, they could go to Hermione. Ron, however, was of the opinion, 'if it's due next week, I'll do it the night before', and could frequently be found panicking over a difficult essay topic. The four would never let him copy their homework ("How will you learn?"), but sometimes found themselves outmanoevred when he asked them to read it through and edit it, so he got the right answers anyway.

Ten minutes to eight, the four made their excuses to Ron, saying Snape wanted to see them about last week's homework, and got up, walking out of the common room single file.

"Rather you than me," Ron muttered, the end of his quill being chewed beyond repair in his mouth.

Draco led the way through the winding corridors, and finally placed his hand on the disguised door.

Snape was inside, hand grasping a steaming mug of tea, and his leg looked freshly bandaged.

"Tea?" he asked, brooding about something.

The four exchanged a look, shrugged, and each made themselves a cup of tea, settling down into the spots they'd occupied the last time they'd all been here together. They waited with bated breath, and were not disappointed when Snape muttered, "Blasted thing. How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

"The Cerberus did this?" asked Neville, horror apparent in his voice.

"Unfortunately yes, Mr Longbottom."

There were appalled questions of, "How?", "When?", and "Why?" from the three others.

Snape held up the hand not holding his tea. "Settle down. If you will let me explain, you will not come to any wrong conclusions," he said, adjusting his robe so it hid his leg. "Now, you recall the troll on Hallowe'en?"

They nodded. "Professor Quirrell is very good with trolls. One might even say he has a... gift for 'handling' them. As soon as he came in that door, screaming about that bloody troll, I knew that he must have let it in, for he should have been able to handle it easily enough on his own."

He took a sip of tea, and continued. "Mr-Harry. I remembered what you said about him, and said to myself that he was up to something. I followed him, and when he made his way into the forbidden corridor, I entered shortly after him. He was trying to get past that blasted dog, and I rescued him from almost certain death, getting this," he motioned to his leg, "for my troubles. When questioned as to what I was doing there, I said I was in the process of making sure all students were in their common rooms. I am unsure as to whether he believed me or not."

Tale finished, he scowled down at his tea again, and the four were left, sipping their teas in a contemplative silence. "I believe you," said Draco at last. The other three nodded their assent to Draco's statement, and the four children and the adult spent the hour until curfew talking about Potions, with Neville being offered a week's tutoring by an extremely reluctant Snape.

*

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. By eleven o'clock, the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars, since it was difficult to see what was going on sometimes, even if the seats were raised high in the air.

The trio and Hermione joined Ron, Seamus, and Dean up in the top row. Dean, who was good at drawing as well, had teamed up with Harry to draw a large banner, saying Go Gryffindor, as well as a huge Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colours.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch waiting for the two teams, her broom in hand. Gryffindor exited their changing rooms first, and then Slytherin.

"Now I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said once they were all gathered around her.

"Seems to be talking mostly to Flint," muttered Draco past his pure silver omnioculars. Marcus Flint was a fifth year who looked as though he had some troll blood in him, and he had the temper (and probably the intelligence) to match.

"Mount your brooms, please."

The two teams did, and Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Sixeen 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."

Lee Jordan, the Weasley twins' friend, was doing the (slightly biased) 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, Slytherin 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 Gryffindor take the Quaffle-that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint..."

Harry stopped listening to Lee's commentary for a second, and watched through his binoculars, half in horror, half in glee, as the Snitch hovered directly next to the head of the Gryffindor Seeker, Warren Tate. He turned his head back to the Chaser's moves just in time to see Johnson score. Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans coming from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Harry and Draco squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars round his neck, "but it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron.

"Not from the Seekers, but I saw it hovering right next to Tate's nose!" Harry complained.

Hagrid let out a bark of laughter. "Oh Harry, I can't wait 'til you try out. Yeh'll smash all the competition to smithereens!"

"Slytherin in posession," Lee was saying. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds off towards 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. Tate and Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs, both on opposite sides of the pitch, dived towards the little streak of gold. Neck and neck they hurtled towards the Snitch-all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in mid-air to watch.

Luckily, even though in Harry's opinion the two seekers were both pretty bad, Tate seemed to be just the tiniest bit faster, and seemed to be making headway. The Gryffindor Chasers came out of their stupor, and scored twice more, since the Slytherin ones were still a bit sluggish.

Finally, after the Snitch had disappeared and reappeared twice more, Tate caught it while Higgs was on the opposite side of the pitch again. "Yes!" Lee shouted jovially. "Seeker Tate catches the Snitch! Gryffindor wins, with one hundred and ninety points to seventy!"

Their victory resulted in a very rambunctious party in Gryffindor Tower, which lasted until three in the morning.