The Transfiguration courtyard
November 3rd, 1991
10:23 am
As November arrives, the weather turns very cold. The mountains around the school become icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground is covered in frost. Hagrid can be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots. The Quidditch season has begun. On Saturday, Polaris will be playing chaser after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship. Hardly anyone has seen Harry play because Wood has decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he is playing Seeker has leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse - people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress. It's really lucky that Harry now has Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read. Harry learnt that there are 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 the 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 has become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she is much nicer for it. The day before the first Quidditch match of the year, the three of them are out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she has conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They are standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crosses the yard. Harry notices at once that Snape is limping. Harry, Ron, and Hermione move closer together to block the fire from view; they are sure it isn't allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces catches Snape's eye. He limps over. He hasn't seen the fire, but he seems to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway. "What's that you've got there, Potter?" he asks in a condescending tone, motioning towards Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry shows him. "Library books are not to be taken outside the school," says Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor." Polaris, sitting nearby, puts his book on bowtruckles down and walks up to the three first years as Snape limps away "He's just made that rule up," Ron mutters angrily
"Wonder what's wrong with his leg?" Harry asks.
"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," says Ron bitterly.
"It's from that dog. That boy has massive teeth, and he knows how to use them." Polaris comments, startling the three first years "Where'd you come from?!" Ron asks "From behind you, dumbass." Polaris answers "How do you know that that thing bit Snape?" Hermione asks "I went there to study, as usual, and I saw blood on the ground, and the dog was on high alert. Anyways, do you want to borrow my copy of Quidditch through the ages? I know Snape probably won't give that book back." Says Polaris "I'm Alright, Polaris. Thanks for offering though." Harry says, shaking his head
A few hours later
Harry's Pov
The Gryffindor Common Room
November 3rd, 1991
8:32 pm
The Gryffindor common room is very noisy this evening. Ron, Hermione, and I sit together next to a window. Hermione is checking our Charms homework for us. She won't let us copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, we get the right answers anyway.
I feel restless. I want Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take my mind off my nerves about tomorrow. Why should I be afraid of Snape? Getting up, I tell them I am going to ask Snape if I could have it back "Better you than me," they say together, but I have the idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there are other teachers listening.
I make his way down to the staffroom and knock. There is no answer. I knock again. Nothing.
Perhaps Snape has left the book in there? It's worth a try. I push the door ajar and peer inside - and a horrible scene meets my eyes.
Snape and Filch are inside, alone. Snape is holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs is bloody and mangled. Filch is handing Snape bandages "Blasted thing," Snape says. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"
I try to shut the door quietly, but -
"POTTER!"
Snape spots me, and his face is twisted with fury as he drops his robes quickly to hide his leg. I gulp.
"I just wondered if I could have my book back."
"GET OUT! OUT!"
I leave, before Snape can take any more points from Gryffindor. I sprint back upstairs.
"Did you get it?" Ron asks as I join them. "What's the matter?" In a low whisper, I tell them what I'd seen.
"You know what this means?" I finish breathlessly. "Polaris is right! 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 widen.
No - he wouldn't," Hermione says. "I know he's a jerk, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."
"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snaps Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"
I go to bed with my head buzzing with the same question. Neville is snoring loudly, but I can't sleep. I try to empty my mind - I need to sleep, I have to, I have my first Quidditch match in a few hours - but the expression on Snape's face when I saw his leg isn't easy to forget.
The next morning dawns very bright and cold. The Great Hall is 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." Ron says, pouring syrup on his waffles.
"I don't want anything."
"Just a bit of toast," wheedles Hermione.
"No, thank you."
I feel terrible. In an hour's time I'd be walking onto the field.
"Harry, you need your strength," says Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."
"Thanks, Seamus," I reply, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.
I am just staring at my food when something light hits me on the head. I look up, and see a letter. It's from Polaris. Why is he sending me a letter instead of just talking to me? I tear open the letter.
Dear Harry,
Good luck on today's match. I'd say it to you personally if I wasn't being watched. You'll figure out why in a little bit.
See you soon,
Polaris
I look up from the letter why is Polaris being watched? Is he ok? I guess I'll find out soon.
One hour later
The Quidditch pitch
November 4th, 1991
11:00 am
By eleven o' clock the whole school seems to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students have binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it's still difficult to see what's going on sometimes. I am sitting in the locker room, with the rest of my team. Wood clears his throat for silence.
"Okay, men," he says.
"And women," says Chaser Angelina Johnson.
"And women," Wood agrees. "This is it."
"The big one," says Fred.
"The one we've all been waiting for," says George.
"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred tells me, "we were on the team last year."
"Shut up, you two," says Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."
He glares at us all as if to say, "Or else."
"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
I follow Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping my knees aren't going to give way, walks onto the field to loud cheers.
Madam Hooch is refereeing. She stands 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 says, once we're all gathered around her. I noticed that she seems to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. I then see Polaris, standing among them so that's why he couldn't talk to me. He's on the Slytherin team. Out of the corner of my eye I see a fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. My heart skips a beat. I now feel braver.
"Mount your broomsticks, please."
I clamber onto my Nimbus Two Thousand. I see Polaris do the same.
Madam Hooch then gives a loud blast on her silver whistle.
Fifteen brooms rise up, high, high into the air. They are 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' and Polaris' friend, Lee Jordan, is 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 Chaser Polaris Lestrange gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Lestrange is 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!"
Hermione's Pov
Gryffindor cheers fills the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. I spot Polaris among the Slytherin team, chasing the quaffle and taking a shot at the rings. The keeper misses the shot and Slytherin scores. "Budge up there, move along."
"Hagrid!"
Ron, and I squeeze together to give Hagrid enough space to join us.
"Bin watchin' from me hut," says 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," says Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."
"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," says Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that's Harry. "'olaris scoring goals, per usual." he continues. I see Harry squinting down at the stadium, looking for the snitch. Then, a black ball goes speeding towards Harry, but one of the twins hits it with a bat and they send it flying towards the Slytherin captain. "Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan is saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?" A murmur runs through the crowd as Adrian Pucey drops the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that has passed his left ear.
Harry sees it. He dives downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs has seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtle toward the Snitch - all the Chasers seem to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hang in midair to watch. Harry is faster than Higgs - is speeding towards it when-
WHAM! A roar of rage echoes from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint has blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spins off course, Harry holding on for dear life.
"Foul!" screams the Gryffindors. I see Polaris put his hand on his face.
Madam Hooch flies over to Flint and yells angrily at him and then she orders a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch has disappeared from sight again.
Down here in the stands, Dean Thomas is yelling, "Send him off, red! Red card!"
"What are you talking about, Dean?" says Ron.
"Red card!" says Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"
"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminds him. Hagrid, however, is on Dean's side.
"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air. 'olaris is the only one on the team to not play dirty"
Lee Jordan is finding it difficult not to take sides.
"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating -"
"Jordan!" growls 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."
It's after Harry dodges another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that something weird happens. His broom gives a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, I think he is going to fall. He grips the broom tightly with both his hands and knees.
It happens again. It's as though the broom is trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands do not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tries to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts - he has half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out -but then he realizes that his broom is completely out of his control. He can't turn it. He can't direct it at all. It's zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseats him.
Lee is still commentating.
"Slytherin in possession - Lestrange with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, that's gonna leave a mark - Slytherins score - oh no..."
The Slytherins cheer. Nobody else seems to notice that Harry's broom is behaving strangely. It's carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as he goes. "Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbles. He stares through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom...but he can't have...."
Suddenly, people are pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom has started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasps. Harry's broom gives a wild jerk and Harry swings off it. He is now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispers.
"Can't have," Hagrid says, 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, I seize Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, I start looking frantically at the crowd.
"What are you doing?" moans Ron, gray-faced.
"I knew it," I gasp, "Snape - look."
When I finish looking, Ron grabs the binoculars from me. Snape is in the middle of the stands opposite us. He has his eyes fixed on Harry and is muttering nonstop under his breath.
"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," I say.
"What should we do?" Ron asks.
"Leave it to me."
Before Ron can say another word, I run into the stands. I fight my way across to the stand where Snape stands, and is now racing along the row behind him; I don't even stop to say sorry as I knock Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, I crouch down, pull out my wand, and whisper a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shoot from my wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.
It takes about thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he's on fire. A sudden yelp tells me I have done my job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in my pocket, I scramble back along the row - Snape will never know what happened.
Back to third person
Harry's broom stops trying to buck him off. Polaris spots familiar blue flames on Snape's robes. After realizing he can control his broom again, Harry speeds towards the ground. He then puts his hands over his mouth. Harry spits out the snitch "I got the snitch!" he shouts
20 minutes later
Polaris, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sit in Hagrid's cabin, talking about what Hermione and Ron saw. "It was Snape," Ron explains, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
"Rubbish," says 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?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione look at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decides on telling him the truth.
"I found out something about him," he tells 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 drops a teapot.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he asks.
"Aww, that's a great name for him. I've been calling him 'Buddy' this whole time! I'll be sure to call him Fluffy next time I visit him." Says Polaris "What do ya mean 'next time'?" Hagrid asks. Polaris doesn't answer "Fluffy?" says a stunned Ron
"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year- I leant him to Dumbledore to guard the -"
"Yes?" says Harry eagerly.
"Now, don't ask me anymore," says Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is." "But Snape's trying to steal it."
"Rubbish," says Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cries Hermione.
The afternoon's events certainly seem 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!" says 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 four 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!" says Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looks furious with himself.
"What do you think Polaris, about Snape cursing Harry's broom?" asks Ron "I don't think the person cursing it was Snape, if he wanted Harry dead, then he would be a lot more subtle about it." Polaris responds "If you don't think it's Snape, then who do you think cursed Harry's broom?" asks Hermione "I have a theory, but if I told you, you wouldn't believe it." Polaris responds, infuriating the three first years. When the four left Hagrid's they all have one thing on their mind: Who was cursing Harry's broom? And why?
When Polaris goes to Fluffy that night, he is in deep thought. I'm pretty sure the person cursing that broom was Quirrell. The broom stopped trying to buck him off the second that bastard got knocked down. Snape probably was trying to save Harry. Why? I don't know, but I will figure it out.