As they entered November, the weather turned freezing. The mountains around the school became icy gray, and the lake was 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 beaver skin 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 be second in the house championship.
Harry, however, was not as happy about the first game of the season as everyone else was; in fact, he was almost hoping it would be canceled, though he would never say it out loud for fear of his house and family ostracizing him for such blasphemy.
Between Quidditch practices, trying to finish the ungodly amount of homework that they had suddenly been saddled with, and the 'extra' classes that Harry was receiving from Narcissa Malfoy on etiquette and how to act appropriately as a lord of the Wizengamot was supposed to behave, Harry felt as though he was being run ragged.
To help Harry, as well as any other student that might require aid with their classes, Hermione had started a study group that was open to any and all who wished to join, regardless of house; Harry had assumed that only a few would want to to take part in it and was therefore surprised when several showed up.
Daphne Greengrass and her friend Tracy Davis joined almost every night, as well, as Theodore Nott, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and even Rhea would occasionally join, despite being a third year offering helpful advice to the first years.
Ron had at first taken objection to studying with Slytherins, but over time he had mellowed out from outright dislike to a more cool tolerance as Tracy had offered to supplement the help that Hermione was offering to Ron in order for him to be able to read better.
When they weren't busy studying, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would discuss what they thought the three-headed dog was guarding and why Bill seemed to think it was so dangerous and who might be trying to steal it. When Neville had mentioned in passing that he had overheard from one of the ghosts that Snape was seen on the third floor the night of the troll attack, Ron had immediately decided that it must be Snape who wanted to steal whatever was there; Harry had quickly put the suspicion to rest by saying that Snape was a Hogwarts teacher and there was no way that a teacher would try and steal something from under Dumbledore's nose, to which Hermione had readily agreed.
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On the day of the Quidditch match, Harry felt as though he was going to throw up; Everyone in Gryffindor had offered him words of comfort and told him he would do amazing. Even Draco and Rhea had come to wish him well, with the understanding that they would, of course, be rooting for their own house.
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 sometimes happening.
Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets. 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.
They were soon joined by Molly, Arthur, and Sirius; Sirius, to the embarrassment of Molly, had chosen to show up with his hair dyed gold and red and wearing a Quidditch jersey with 'Potter' written on the back.
Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry 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, "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 followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees wouldn't give way, walked onto the field with 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 speak mainly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. He saw his parents cheering wildly. He saw Sirius looking and screaming like a nutcase, and despite his upset stomach, Harry couldn't help but laugh. His heart skipped. He felt braver.
"Mount your brooms, please."
Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.
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 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 score - 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!"
The Weasley's shuffled along the row of seating to allow Hagrid to join them, and Hagrid chuckled as he looked at Sirius before turning his attention back to the game,
"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.
"Don't worry," Sirius said happily, "If he's anything like James, Harry will do great for his first match!"
High in the sky, Harry was scanning the field for the Golden Snitch; Wood had told him to keep out of the way so as to avoid being attacked by the Slytherin team, and that's why Harry had gone straight up in the sky the moment the match had begun and stayed there scanning the field. Whenever Gryffindor scored a goal, Harry would do a loop or barrel roll to celebrate, but other than that, Harry had spent the majority of the match with narrowed eyes as he looked for anything resembling the little golden orb that he needed to catch.
Suddenly, Harry saw it! The Snitch was directly beneath him, hovering a few feet from the ground, and Harry immediately aimed his broom down and took a nosedive toward it; Terrence Higgs, the Slytherin seeker, saw what Harry was doing and tried to do the same but it was becoming evident that Harry would reach it first. As Harry got closer to this target, he felt exhilaration course through him when Marcus Flint suddenly appeared out of nowhere, cutting Harry off and forcing him to swerve or slam into the Slytherin captain; the sudden movement made Harry momentarily lose control. He hung to his broom for dear life as boos and shouts rang out from the Gryffindor side of the stands.
"CHEATING BASTARD!" Sirius snarled while Molly shook her fist in rage at the boy who had nearly killed her son; 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 Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. But instead, he gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goalposts, he had half a mind to ask Wood to call a time-out, and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air and made violent swishing movements that almost unseated him every now and then.
"What's Harry doing?" Sirius asked as he looked at his godson curiously, "If I didn't know better, I'd swear he's lost control of his broomstick."
"Could something have happened when the Slytherin boy blocked him?" Molly asked,
"Not possible," Sirius replied quickly, "Only Dark Magic can do something like that!"
Hermione gasped and pointed her binoculars towards the teacher's box, hoping she was wrong, only for her worst fears to be realized a moment later.
"Ron! It's Snape!"
"Snape? What about him?!" Ron demanded angrily as he turned and squinted to where Hermione was looking,
"He's jinxing Harry's broom!" Hermione replied in an angry whisper as she zeroed in on the professor and saw that, indeed, the potion professor's lips were moving, and his gaze was fixed upon Harry, who was desperately trying to hold onto his broom.
"That cheating prick!" Ron hissed angrily, "I knew he was no good! And Harry defended him!"
"I'll take care of it!" Hermione said quickly before rushing away while everyone else's gaze was fixed on Harry; the twins had attempted to pull Harry off of his broom, but every time they got close, the broom would jerk out of the way, so instead, the twins now hovered under their little brother in case he fell.
A moment later, the broom gave an incredibly violent jerk, and Harry was thrown over the front, only managing to hang onto his broom by one hand as the crowd watched in horror,
"HARRY!" Molly shrieked as her son desperately clung onto his broom,
"Come on, Hermione!" Ron whispered in terror as he watched his brother.
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Hermione gasped for air; she had run as fast as she could from where she had been sitting to the teacher's box before charging up the stairs to where Professor Snape was sitting; so focused on stopping Snape from hexing Harry's broom that she had accidentally shoved Professor Quirrell out of her way as she charged past him.
Once she reached Professor Snape's section, Hermione carefully climbed under the stands and used a simple spell to light Snape's robe on fire before hurrying away; she had just made it to the stairs when she heard yells and commotion, letting her know that her plan had worked and with a tired smile, Hermione began to descend the stairs and head back to where Ron was sitting.
XXXX
Harry didn't know what had happened. All he knew was that, for some reason, his broom had finally stopped trying to buck him off, and he was able to regain control, much to the relief of the watchers.
Not wasting a minute, Harry took a quick look around and saw that Higgs had caught sight of the Snitch and was dangerously close to catching it; pointing his broom toward his opponent, Harry pushed the broom as hard as it would go, desperate to catch the Snitch before Higgs did.
Suddenly the Snitch took a nosedive just as Harry finally closed in on Higgs, and the two followed the Snitch down; they flew neck and neck to each other as the ground came closer and closer with each passing second.
"Pull up, Harry!" Molly yelled as she watched, "PULL UP!"
Higgs yelled "Screw this!" at the last possible second and pulled away as the Snitch came dangerously close to the ground and Harry lunged forward, hoping to catch it before it was too late; unfortunately, Harry lunged too far and rolled off of his broom as the crowd watched in horror.
For a moment, Harry lay still, and the crowd thought that he had broken his neck, but then he shakily rose to his feet, a massive smile on his face, and raised his hand in the air, showing that he had caught the Snitch.
Sirius roared with joy as he jumped up and down like a maniac, his voice drowned out by those around him; Molly looked like she had aged ten years during the match and slowly sank to her seat as those around her cheered.
An hour later, Harry was being checked over in the hospital wing by Madam Pomfrey; they were soon joined by Molly, Arthur, and Sirius; Arthur and Sirius had congratulated Harry on his spectacular first match, while Molly had berated Harry on his carelessness and almost giving her a heart attack.
Once Harry was finally released, he headed to the Gryffindor common room only to find Hermione and Ron waiting for him,
"We need to talk," Hermione said seriously,
"It was Snape that jinxed your broom," Ron added, making Harry go pale in an instant.