15 November 1991
The first Quidditch match of the season looked to be even more dramatic than Harry had expected what with the traditional rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin plus the involvement of the Git-Who-Lived and the drama which always surrounded him. The rival captains, Oliver Wood for the Lions and Marcus Flint for the Snakes, hated each other with a violent passion. The Gryffs had better teamwork but an untested Seeker. The Slytherins had stronger individual players but poor coordination and a strong preference for brute force over efficient game play. Terence Higgs was a highly competent and experienced Seventh Year Seeker who had been undefeated the previous two seasons, but Flint (in his first year as captain) literally had to be beg him to come back and play during his NEWTS year. The Chasers were Flint and Pucey (both talented veterans), plus Graham Montague, Rodney's little brother who was a Second Year new to the team. Keeper Miles Bletchley was also a Second Year and equally inexperienced. Overall, while the team had dominated the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup for the last several seasons, this would probably be a rebuilding year. The battle plan, as Harry understood it, was to bully the Gryffs and keep them off balance and then let Higgs find the Snitch while Jim was still trying to figure out which end of the broom was the front.
For the first fifteen minutes or so, the Snakes dominated 40-10 when there was a sudden commotion centered on Jim. The boy seemed to have lost control of his broom, which was shaking madly as if it were trying to throw him off. Harry watched his brother through a set of omnoculars with ... not concern so much as curiosity, as if he couldn't quite divine the purpose of what he was seeing.
"It looks like someone has hexed Potter's broom!" exclaimed Theo. "I didn't think that was possible!" "It shouldn't be," said Blaise Zabini who was sitting nearby. "Granted, whoever is doing it is an idiot. All they're doing is shaking Potter's broom hard. You'd think they'd just turn off the broom's enchantments and let him fall."
"No," said Harry calmly. "The person responsible is exceptionally powerful and cunning. He's just facing unexpected opposition." Harry had turned his omnoculars away from his brother's plight towards that section of the stands where the faculty and guests were seated. His birth parents were both there, as James had come to Hogwarts for his son's inaugural performance which now looked to be a disaster in the making. He, Lily and several other teachers already had their wands out ready to catch Jim if he fell. Behind them all, Harry could see his prime suspect, Quirrell, whose eyes were fixed and unblinking as he subvocalized some spell. Snape sat a few rows behind him, doing the same. Clearly, one was jinxing Jim's broom and the other was casting a counter-jinx.
Suddenly, to Harry's surprise, Hermione showed up in the faculty-visitor stands, forcefully pushing her way through the crowd. At one point, she bumped into Quirrell, practically bowling the man over. Harry spared a glance back up at Jim and saw that his broom stabilized almost instantly. Then, he looked back at the faculty stands in time to see Hermione dart down the tunnel just past where Snape was still sitting. A few seconds later, the Potions Master jumped up in alarm, as the hem of his robes had somehow caught fire.
Harry laughed. "Oh, that's my girl. That is priceless! Comedy gold!" He looked back at Quirrell who was distracted by both Snape's efforts to stamp out the fire and the resultant jostling of the crowd. Finally, shouts from the Slytherins around him brought his attention back to the match. The Git had apparently seen the Snitch and gone into a power dive. Unfortunately, Higgs was on the far side of the stadium when Potter made his move, and though he desperately skillfully winded his way through the other players to catch up with Potter, it was too late. Near the ground, Jim lost control of his broom and crashed into the ground, which would have been hilarious if the Git hadn't managed to nearly swallow the Snitch while tumbling across the turf. Flint was almost berserk as, according to him, the rules clearly called for the Snitch to be caught by hand and not by mouth. Madame Hooch, who had little love for the Slytherins' style of game play, disagreed and called the game in favor of the Gryffindors.
Leaving the pitch, Harry noticed in the distance that the Potters were with Dumbledore gesturing angrily at the old man, while Snape followed close behind walking with as much dignity as he could muster with smoldering robes. Closer by, Harry saw the groundskeeper, Hagrid, escorting an injured Jim to his hut, with Hermione, Neville and Ron following behind. Harry headed towards that direction but soon realized that Theo and, to his surprise, Blaise Zabini, were following him. Theo was expected, but Zabini was a new development.
"Can I help you, Mr. Zabini?"
The other boy smiled. "I hope so, Mr. Potter. A few weeks back, you invited me to join Miss Granger's study sessions. I declined at the time, but I find myself disappointed with my progress in several classes. I was wondering if your invitation was still open?"
Harry, who knew perfectly well that Blaise was one of his closest academic rivals in Slytherin House and that he didn't need the least bit of tutoring, raised his chin and crooked an eyebrow. "Can you resist the temptation to insult anyone's parentage for several hours at a time?" he said archly.
"If everyone can go that long without insulting my own parentage, then certainly," he replied evenly.
Harry stared at the boy for several seconds, almost long enough to make it uncomfortable for all concerned. One thing he'd learned since his Sorting was that there were two kinds of Slytherins: the ones with bigotries ... and the ones with agendas. He strongly suspected Zabini of being the latter, but wasn't sure what sort of agenda it was. So he decided to test a theory he'd been developing since Halloween. "Then let us agree ... to be excellent to each other, Mr. Zabini" he said.
The other boy inhaled sharply, as if Harry Potter had just publicly exposed one of Zabini's deepest, darkest secrets, one that he had never shared with another living soul. Then, he composed himself ... and smiled warmly.
"Party on, Mr. Potter," he replied as the two reached out and shook hands.
Theo looked back and forth between the two during the odd exchange. "Was ... was that ...
a code of some kind?" he asked in confusion.
"Of a sort," said Harry. "By the way, I do hope you will call me Harry from now on, Mr. Zabini." "Only if you will both call me Blaise."
"Certainly. I'll discuss the matter with Hermione, but I doubt it will be a problem. We meet on Tuesdays after last period and Fridays after lunch," said Harry.
"I look forward to it," said Blaise before offering a slight bow and heading towards the castle. Harry watched him go with a bemused expression before heading on to Hagrid's hut – Theo following behind somewhat nervously where he knocked boldly on the door. After a second, the huge man opened the door and looked down at the two Slytherins in surprise.
"Mr. Hagrid!" exclaimed Harry cheerfully. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Harry Potter, Jim's older brother. This is my friend, Theodore Nott. I noticed that one of my other friends, Hermione Granger, was headed this way. Is she still here by any chance?"
"Um, well, ah," Hagrid stammered before Hermione called out. "It's alright, Hagrid, you can let them in." He reluctantly stepped out of the way, and the two boys entered the small hut, which was becoming crowded with two Slytherins, four Gryffindors, a half-giant and what looked like a large boar-hound snoring loudly off in a corner.