Chapter 11: The Alchemist

Just as Harry had suspected, the passageway Saiph had taken dropped them almost directly in the forbidden corridor on the third floor. She was nowhere to be found, but Harry led the others down the same route he, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken the night they were hiding from Filch. He rounded a corner and saw a familiar door at the end of a long, dark hallway.

"I wonder if she even-" Pansy started to say, but was cut off by a loud shriek.

"Saiph!"

The three of them tore off down the hallway, chests heaving, running faster than they had even from Filch.

"Alohomora!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at the door in case it was locked again. Whether it was or wasn't, it swung open before them. Another shriek.

The three-headed dog looked, if possible, more menacing than it did before. Its three heads swung wildly around and its three tongues lolled about out of its three mouths as it barked and growled at something small below it. Saiph Lestrange, Draco Malfoy's cousin, was holding a stone bowl of what appeared to be crushed and smoking resin incenses under the nostrils of one of the heads.

"Saiph, what are thinking?! Get away from it!" Draco screamed to his cousin. Then it all happened very quickly. Saiph jumped, startled, dropped the bowl, which smashed to pieces against the hard slate floor. All three heads of the dog went for her at once and Draco, Harry and Pansy reacted instinctively. All three of them pointed their wands at the dog and said the first spell that came to mind (and some of the only spells they knew)-Flipendo,Wingardium Leviosa, and Incendio, respectively.

The dogs heads swung wildly to the left as the spells hit, missing Saiph by inches, though one of the dogs giant teeth grazed her leg as she leapt out of the way. She shrieked again, blood spurted from her wound and the dogs went haywire. She limped towards them, and supporting her between them, Harry and Draco helped her out into the corridor while Pansy slammed the door shut in the dog's three faces.

"Saiph, what the bloody hell were you thinking?"

"I would have been fine if you hadn't burst in and ruined everything. My mother gave me this mission, not you, and you need to stop meddling...or else!"

"Or else what-?"

"Ssh! Someone's coming!"

"Hide!"

"Where?"

"Come here!"

In the confusion and fearing they had nowhere to hide except back in the room with the dog, they felt they had no choice but to follow Saiph through a secret passageway she knew of behind a tapestry of Merlin when they heard the footsteps getting closer. It turned out to be not so much a passageway as it was a small alcove barely the size of a broom closet. They waited with bated breath, bodies pressed together, until they heard the footsteps fade away with the sound of muffled conversation that sounded like it was between two of their male professors or maybe a professor and Filch.

They didn't dare speak a word to each other until they were back downstairs in the Slytherin common room, where they slipped in amidst a group of taller, older students. Everyone seemed to be finishing the feast in the common room, as some of the food and treats had evidently been sent down. They exchanged a few awkward, anxious glances as Crabbe and Goyle headed towards them and Saiph slipped away to grab a plate, but from that moment on, she and Pansy became their friends. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and surviving a near-death experience turned out to be one of them.

The news that three Gryffindor first years-Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger, had somehow managed to subdue the 12-foot mountain troll spread like wildfire all over the school the following morning and throughout the rest of the next week.

But Harry, Draco, and Pansy spent little time dwelling on this. While the Gryffindors were off being idiots, the three Slytherins had themselves caught up in what was really going on in the forbidden corridor on the third floor. And on top of that, as breezy October faded into chilly November, Harry was fast approaching his very first Quidditch match. Flint insisted on nightly practices in the week leading up to the match, and Harry was also noticing an uptick in homework with the winter semester on the horizon.

On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Slytherin versus Gryffindor, one of the biggest rivalry games of the year. Slytherin had beaten Gryffindor in this match for the past seven years, so Flint knew they were hungry for a win, especially against youngest-seeker-in-a-century-boy-who-lived Harry Potter. They were also playing a new Seeker-some second year named Cormac McLaggen who apparently came from a promising pureblood Quidditch family. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the House Championship, usurping Slytherin and bumping them into third place (Ravenclaw was in the lead), but Harry tried not to think too much about this dismal potentiality and just how much was riding on this match.

The morning of the match dawned very bright and cold. Frost speckled the ground outside and it glinted silvery under the rays of the sun. The Great Hall was full of students decked out in scarves, mittens, cloaks, and hats-many donning the colors of whichever team they were rooting for, and the resulting swathes of emerald Slytherin green and fiery Gryffindor red added a very Christmasy sense to the atmosphere.

"You should eat some breakfast," said Draco, offering him a long pronged fork piercing a neat row of sausages.

"I don't want anything," he replied. Even his aunt, uncle, and cousin were invested in the game. Even though they didn't know what Quidditch was, when Harry wrote to them that he was the equivalent of a football starter for his house team, Uncle Vernon had told everyone in his office just that and Aunt Petunia promised to wear the green and black rosette she'd made just for the occasion on the morning of the match.

"How bout a bit of toast?" offered Pansy.

"I'm not hungry." Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking on to the pitch.

'You're going to need your strength," said Goyle, who looked flabbergasted anyone would refuse food.

"Yeah, Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team," added Crabbe, who was piling ketchup on a mound of sausages.

By eleven o'clock, the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch and many students had binoculars. Draco and Pansy joined Crabbe, Goyle, and Saiph up in the top row of a sea of black and green.

Meanwhile, in the changing rooms, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their green Quidditch robes (Gryffindor would be playing in red). Marcus Flint cleared his throat for silence.

"OK, men," he said. "This is it." Harry looked around at his teammmates. Lucian Bole and Derek Peregrine, the Beaters, already had their bats at their sides. Keeper Miles Bletchley looked larger, huskier, and more intimidating than ever, as did Chasers Graham Montague and Adrian Pucey, who flanked him on either side, all of them built like carbon copies of Dudley.

"This is the best team Slytherin's had in years. We'll have them running scared. I know it." Flint glared at them all as if to say, 'Or else.' "Right. It's time. Don't be pussies."

Harry followed Derek and Lucian out of the changing room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked on to the pitch to loud, simultaneous cheers and boos from the two sides of opposing fans. Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch, waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice clean game, from all of you,' she said, once they were all gathered around her. Flint shook hands with the Gryffindor captain, a tall skinny boy called Oliver Wood, and Harry mounted his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up in 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." Some Gryffindor was doing the commentary, which meant it would most likely be biased strongly towards their team. It was no matter, though. Harry was just trying to tune it out so it wouldn't distract him, but he couldn't help listening.

"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, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by Slytherin – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, 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 goalposts are ahead – come on, now, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!' Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

Harry groaned. He was circling the pitch above the rest of the players, looking for some sign of the Golden Snitch. If he could catch it soon, the match would end and it wouldn't matter that Gryffindor had scored.

"Slytherin in possession," the commentator, Jordan, was saying. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

Harry saw it too-a fleck of gold passing Adrian Pucey's left ear, surprising him so much that he dropped the Quaffle and dove to retrieve it. Harry angled his broom downwards and rushed towards where he'd seen the Snitch, but Gryffindor Seeker Cormac McLaggen had seen it, too. Brooms even with each other in the sky, they raced towards the tiny golden ball from opposite directions. But Harry had the faster broom. He could see the little round ball, fluttering like a hummingbird-

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Slytherin section of the stands – one of the Weasley brothers had blocked Harry on purpose and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life. He couldn't believe they were the same people who'd been so kind to him at the train station, whose attitude towards him had only changed once he'd been sorted into Slytherin.

"Foul!" screamed the Slytherins. Madam Hooch spoke angrily to the redheaded beater and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Slytherin. Graham Montague took it and scored without issue, tying up the points. But in all the confusing melee, the Golden Snitch had, of course, disappeared.

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which was sent his way by the other Weasley twin and 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. 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 towards the Slytherin goalposts– and then he realised that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zig-zagging through the air and every now and then making violent swishing movements which almost unseated him. Jordan 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. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"What the bloody hell is Harry doing," Crabbe mumbled through the mouthful of popcorn he might as well have been inhaling. Draco stared through his binoculars.

"Has he lost control?" Pansy asked nervously, but Draco waved her off.

"Nah, he can't have."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Bet that Gryffindor git did something to it when he blocked him," Goyle asserted angrily.

"No, that's not possible. No one in Gryffindor has the skills or the nerve to interfere with a broomstick-especially a Nimbus Two Thousand," said Draco.

"It takes exceptionally powerful Dark Magic, only a really knowledgable wizard could have-" said Saiph suddenly, grabbing Draco's binoculars as she did so.

"He's up there, idiot." Crabbe laughed as Saiph pointed the binoculars not at Harry, but at the opposite stands, which contained the professors box.

"What in the name of Merlin," she gasped, ignoring Crabbe's jibe. Draco and Pansy followed her gaze until they saw what she did, though they'd never have believed her if they hadn't. Severus Snape, their own head of house, was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering non-stop under his breath.

"He's jinxing the broom," said Saiph gravely.

"Snape?! What-but why would he-"

"I don't know why, but he is. My mother taught me all about jinxes. You've got to make eye contact, and Professor Snape isn't blinking. Leave it to me." And before any of them could say another word, Saiph had disappeared.

Draco turned his binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd were on their feet, watching, terrified, as Peregrine and Bole 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 lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing, not even Lee Jordan. Draco wondered why Dumbledore hadn't thought to stop or pause the match and made a mental note to mention this to his father as soon as he could. His father would then inform the Board of Governors, but none of it would make any difference if Harry didn't survive.

Meanwhile, Saiph Lestrange had fought her way across to the stand where Professor Snape stood and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand on to the hem of Snape's robes. It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realise that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job and as he set to stamping out the flames, she scrambled back along the row. It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom. Draco nudged Pansy to let her know it was okay to uncover her eyes.

Harry was speeding towards the ground when the crowd saw him clap 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 above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Oliver Wood and Cormac McLaggen were still protesting to Madam Hooch twenty minutes later, but it made no difference – Harry hadn't broken any rules and a very dismal Lee Jordan announced the results to a crowd of cheering Slytherins – Slytherin had beaten Gryffindor by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

Harry heard none of this, though. He was walking a ways off the main grounds with Draco, Pansy, and Saiph.

"None of us could believe it was Professor Snape, and there still must be some explanation," Draco was explaining. "We all saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you. Mark my words though, my father will hear about all of this."

"As well he should. Between our own head of house trying to curse you and rig the game and our loony headmaster just letting it happen, it's barbaric," Pansy hissed. "Honestly, if you were a Gryffindor this would have all been completely dif-"

"Oh come off it, all of you. Can't you see this has to do with so much more than Quidditch?" Saiph interjected. She'd been quietly ambling along behind them the whole time, and it was easy to forget she was even there. Harry, Draco, and Pansy looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Saiph took in a sharp breath and then exhaled it.

"Alright, if I promise to tell the three of you everything I know, will you swear not to leak a word of it to anyone?"

They nodded in rapid unison.

"Two weeks before term started, Grandma Druella took me to see my mother," Saiph began. Harry knew from snippets of information he'd gleaned from Draco that Saiph was raised by her Grandmother Druella Black after her parents were arrested and imprisoned. "It's always really hard to get visits with my mother, since she's in a maximum security part of...that horrible place...but it's really all thanks to your father's political connections and friendship with the Minister of Magic that I get to see her at all," she went on, with a nod in Draco's direction.

"They torture her there. Constantly. And for information she doesn't even have. Everytime I see her, she looks worse. Skinnier. Sicker. More depressed, but I knew she was trying to put on a strong face for me and she was excited I was starting at Hogwarts. She told me that they'd recently brought in a prisoner who'd tried to break into Gringotts and that she heard him shouting while they were torturing him about how the thing he tried to steal had been moved to Hogwarts. She said she couldn't say its name because she thought there was a jinx on it-that if anyone in the prison said the name of the item, the dementors would show up right away. But she did say it was going to be kept here this term, and if I could find it, and bring it to her, she'd be able to get out of Azkaban Prison and be healthy again...and that we could be together...a proper family...what could I say? What would anyone say?" Saiph looked up at them, her eyes suddenly hardened and cold. But if she was expecting any of them to try to pass judgment on her or talk her down, they didn't. Harry knew that if he'd been told about a mysterious magical object that could reunite him with his parents somehow, he would have done the same thing.

"I didn't have much to go on, but as soon as Dumbledork said the third floor corridor was forbidden this term, I knew that had to be where they were keeping it," the dark-haired girl continued.

"Naturally, I found out about the dog soon enough, which confirmed my belief that that's where it's hidden, but naturally complicated things as well. I've been trying since school started to research and try out different ways to calm it enough so I can sneak past it through that trapdoor. That's what I was doing the night the troll got in." A sudden gust of icy wind picked up whistling eerily and stinging their exposed faces and yet Saiph still spoke in barely above a whisper. The other three Slytherins huddled closer to hear her.

"And this is where Professor Snape comes in. I was walking past the staffroom the other night on my way back to the common room from the library, when I noticed the door was open slightly...and I mean, haven't we all wanted to know what goes on in there? So I peeked around the door and I saw Professor Snape sitting in a chair with his robes pulled up above his left knee, which was cut open and bleeding everywhere. Filch was standing next to him with a roll of bandages. And I was so shocked I must have gasped and Professor Snape looked up and saw me and I tried to run off but it was too late and he called me back. I asked him, 'Professor, are you alright?' and he took ten house points from Slytherin, despite it being his own house, and told me my friends and I needed to stop meddling in things that don't concern us. 'It's dangerous,' he told me."

"Bloody hell," said Pansy. "I wonder what he was up to."

"Well I can't say for absolutely sure, but I DID notice that his wound looked EXACTLY like my dog bite. I think he's after whatever's under the trapdoor, too. Why else would anyone even go near that dog? Anyway, maybe he knows more than we think, or maybe he reckons we're on to him..which still doesn't quite explain why he tried to jinx Harry, but it does confirm that he's up to something...And then he said this-and I really don't think he meant to because he had this look like he made a mistake, but he said, "Miss Lestrange, you forget that dog and you forget what it's guarding. That's best kept between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."