What I'm Looking For...

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 said to Harry, again.

“I don’t want anything.”

“Just a bit of toast,” wheedled Hermione.

“I’m not hungry.” Harry said stubbornly.

“Harry, you need your strength,” said Seamus Finnigan. “Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team.

“Thanks, Seamus.” Harry said; a sarcastic tone to his voice.

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.

I sat with Hermione, Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry we had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said ‘Potter for President’ and I had drawn a large Gryffindor lion underneath, since I was the best drawer. Hermione had preformed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colours.

The crowd cheered as the teams entered onto the pitch. Harry was following Fred and George, and even from up here, I could tell his knees could give way at any moment; he was so nervous. Madam Hooch was refereeing and she stood in the middle of the pitch what for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

She talked to the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams, before they all climbed onto their brooms. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high into the air, and 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 twins’ friend, Lee Jordon, 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 on 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, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a 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 – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!”

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from Slytherins.

“Budge up there, move along.”

“Hagrid!”

Ron, Hermione and I squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join us.

“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,” I said. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.”

“Kept outta trouble, though, that’s something’,” said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skywards at the speck that was Harry.

“Slytherin in possession,” Lee Jordan was saying, “Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds 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. Harry dived down, along with Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs, who had seen the Snitch, too.

“Come on Harry!” I shouted.

They were neck in neck, hurtling 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. Harry was faster than Higgs.

A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors, as Marcus Flint blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry’s broom span off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

“Foul!” I screamed along with all the other 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 out of sight again.

“Send him off, ref! Red card!” Dean Thomas yelled somewhere beside me.

“This isn’t football, Dean,” I reminded him. “You can’t send people off in Quidditch – and I doubt that they know what a red card is.”

“They oughta change the rules, Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air.” Said Hagrid.

Lee was finding it difficult not to take sides.

“So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –“

“Jordan!” I could just hear Professor McGonagall growl.

“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.”

Harry dodged a Bludger, which flew straight past his head, and his broom gave a sudden lurch. And again, it was as if his broom was trying to buck him off. I could see Harry trying to turn back towards the Gryffindor goal posts, but it looked like his broom was completely out of control.

“Someone do something” I said, but was drowned out by all the cheering, as Harry’s broom zig-zagged through the air and every now and then violently swishing around, almost unseating him. Lee was still commentating.

“Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherin score – oh no..”

The Slytherins were cheering.

“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s lost control of his broom... but he can’t have...”

Suddenly, people started to notice Harry, and were pointing up at him. His broom had started to roll over and over. The whole crowd gasped as Harry’s broom gave a wild jerk, and Harry swung off it. He was 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.”

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

“What are you doing?” I moaned.

“I knew it,” Hermione gasped, “Snape – look.”

I grabbed the binoculars off her. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite us, and he had his eyes fixed on Harry, muttering non-stop under his breath.

“He’s doing something – jinxing the broom,” said Hermione.

“What should we do?” Ron asked.

“Leave it to me.”

Before either Ron or I could say another word, Hermione disappeared. I turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on their feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely on to one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped down lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

“Come on, Hermione” I muttered desperately.

I looked over to the stand where Snape was, just in time to see a small flame appear on his robes. He gave a yelp, before it was gone again. I quickly looked back up at Harry, who was climbing back onto his broomstick.

“Neville, you can look!” Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid’s jacket for the past five minutes.

“Yeah, Potter isn’t dead on the pitch, don’t worry.” I added.

Harry was speeding towards the ground, and he clapped his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick – he hit the pitch on all fours – coughed – and something gold fell into his hand.

“I’ve got the Snitch!” He shouted, waving it about his head, and the game ended in confusion.

---

“It was Snape,” Ron explained, while we were all in Hagrid’s hut, having tea. “Hermione, Corey and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, 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?”

The four of us looked at each other, wondering what to tell him.

“I found out something about him,” Harry told Hagrid. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it’s guarding.”

Hagrid dropped his teapot.

“How do you know about Fluffy?” he said.

“Fluffy?” I asked.

“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?” I said eagerly.

“Now, don’t ask me anymore,” said Hagrid gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.”

“But Snape’s trying to steal it.” Harry whined.

“Rubbish,” Hagrid said again. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“So why did he just try to kill Harry?” cried Hermione. “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 nodded in agreement.

“I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” said Hagrid hotly. “I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’t 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!” I said, whilst Hagrid sat looking furious with himself. “So there’s someone called Nicola Flamel involved, is there?”

I beamed at the others as we left the hut.

“Now, the question is; who is Nicolas Flamel?”