Chapter 17

– Pieces from Philosopher's Stone –

Then came the Quidditch match.

The weather had gotten steadily colder and now the November air meant Quidditch season had arrived, much to her discomfort. Harry had looked downright ill that morning, all pale and worried and not even eating properly.

"You've got to eat something."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," Hermione wheedled.

"I'm not hungry."

"Come on, Harry, you'll need your strength," said George.

Fred grinned. "Yeah, seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team."

Hermione threw a vicious glare at the boys, who wisely decided to turn focus to their bangers.

Harry gave her a weak smile. "Thanks."

If Harry's nerves were fraying, her nerves were shot. Even watching Harry and the Twins fly during practice made her want to pluck them from the sky and set them safely on the ground.

With the twins and Harry playing, though, she had to attend the game and she also had to find someone to sit with. And she'd already planned this; Ron and her didn't get on, never did, but Tara and her other roommates were also there to support Angelina. They helped her get a large Go Harry! banner made, and while Tara was the one who drew the massive lion Hermione helped by animating the lion so it moved and actually made a roaring noise. She was quite proud when, before the match began, Harry smiling down at her sign from his broom.

Then the game started.

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 be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Go Harry! over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand. Hermione held her breath.

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."

Her sort of friend and the twins' best 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 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!"

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

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Hermione heard Ron's exclamation and pushed together with the other third-year girls to give Hagrid enough space to join them. She didn't really want to stand next to him as he was a little smelly, but she also didn't want to judge him either. So she put a little distance even though she couldn't keep her nose out of his conversation.

"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.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward 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 saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch - all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs - he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - he put on an extra spurt of speed -

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Hermione didn't care about the foul, and instead screamed, "HARRY!" just as he regained control of his broom. Her heart was racing. Her friend and his broom were so high in the air that if her fell, he could die! Why was hee doing this?

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 from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Tara put her hand on Hermione's shoulder comfortingly. "He'll be fine, promise. It will take more than Marcus Flint to hurt Harry Potter."

That didn't sound comforting. It sounded like a promise.

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. 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 goal-posts - he had half a mind to ask Wood to call 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 every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Hermione was watching in horror. Her eyes had hardly left Harry after his last near-fall, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw him zigzag and shake violently on his broom.

"Harry!"

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 - Slytherins score - A no..."

The Slytherins were cheering, but her scream had the Gryffindor section looking to the seeker high in the sky. Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

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.

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

"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?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"Someone has to be jinxing the broom, that's what Hagrid said!" Hermione explained frantically, her eyes searching. "He said only dark magic, so someone must be casting it! If we can find them …"

It could only be someone older. One of the parents in the stands, or a teacher … She saw Professor Snape, eyes open and mouthing a chant of some kind, but it couldn't be him. It couldn't … She kept looking until she saw Professor Quirrell. He wasn't blinking, his mouth barely moving more than it would take to breathe, but she knew. That stare was filled with absolute loathing.

"I knew it!" Hermione gasped. "Professor Quirrell, look!"

Ron grabbed the binoculars and focused on the Professor.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before Ron could stop her, she flew from the Gryffindor section and went underneath the stands, following the dusty underside all the way to the teacher's section.

Ron 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 its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto 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. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

There. Hermione crept up underneath the seat of Professor Quirrell and his garlic-smell, not bringing out her wand. There wasn't time. But she needed to stop him and stop him quickly.

Since the day with the troll, Professor Snape had not only been teaching her and Harry to brew, but also defensive and offensive spells that they could use in another bad situation. This was one of the times she would use it.

"Stupefy."

The bolt of red left her hand and connected with Professor Quirrel's lower back. The man immediately hunched over and fell on top of Professor Grubbly-Plank, whose loud shriek prompted Hermione to leg it from the scene of her crime.

She'd hexed a teacher! Hermione was practically hyperventilating when she finally made it back topside, but luckily everyone was cheering. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom. I was right. It was Quirrell.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field 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," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference - Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results - Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.

"It was Professor Quirrell," Ron was explaining. "'Mione 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 Quirrell do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I think it might have something to do with the three-headed dog on the third floor. Maybe he's trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?"

"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?" said Harry eagerly. Hermione was bouncing just as eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But he's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Quirrell's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and 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 Quirrell wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Quirrell wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three 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!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

Hermione frowned though. "But Nicholas Flamel … he's the man who saved Paris from Grindelwald … and who created …" her eyes went wide, and Hagrid looked at her with dread. "Hagrid, is the Philosopher's Stone here? At Hogwarts?"

Both Harry and Ron looked at her like she was speaking gibberish, while Hagrid just looked sick. Hermione gasped. "It is, isn't it? What is something like that doing in a school?"

"Now ye listen 'ere, all o' ye," Hagrid looked down on them seriously. "Ye can't be saying nothing 'bout this, ye hear me? 'fessor Dumbledore brought it 'ere for safe keeping, 'e did, and there'll be no gossiping from ye."

"We won't," promised Harry and Ron.

Hermione echoed it, but she knew she would be asking her Professor. He would already know about it since Hagrid did. And he would be able to tell her more about why it was here.

"So you believe Professor Quirrell is trying to kill Harry Potter and steal the Philosopher's Stone."

Severus glared at the young girl. There was no way she had discovered this on her own. It was too … accurate of a guess.

"Are you certain of what you saw?"

Even with her massive, handmade scarf obstructing movement, she still nodded vigorously, anxiously. Severus knew that nothing made the girl so anxious as the safety of one Harry Potter.

"Professor Quirrell wasn't blinking, and looked like he was chanting under his breath," Hermione insisted. "Harry stopped getting thrown around when I … er… stopped him."

Severus pressed his fingers against his temples, fighting a headache. The girl had stunned her Professor to defend Mr. Potter. It was an escalation from shin kicking, but she clearly had no compunction against getting physical with her enemies.

"As you may well have saved Potter's life, I will not deduct points for stunning a Professor," he leveled his sombre gaze at her. "But if Quirrell had truly been trying to kill Potter, what do you suppose he'd do to the girl who stunned him?"

Her eyes went wide, and Snape scoffed internally. Gryffindors. Not a one of them considered the personal implications of their actions.

"But you believe me?" Hermione insisted. "That he's trying to steal the stone?"

He nodded. "Yes, I do."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Then he'll get fired, right?"

"No."

Hermione goggled.

"The Headmaster does not believe Quirrell is a threat," Professor Snape responded dryly, taking momentary amusement in her blatant disbelief. "Even when I tell him about your observations at today's match, I doubt he will get rid of the stuttering fool. No. Quirrell will be watched for any further actions against the Stone or Mr Potter, but the Headmaster prefers his enemies close at hand."

"But he's Harry's teacher!" Hermione exclaimed. "What if he tries to kill him again?! What if it's in class? There has to be something else we can do!"

Severus glared. "What, then? The Headmaster is the one who must dismiss Quirrell; I have no power to decide this."

"But the Board does!" Hermione exclaimed, all at once hopeful. "The Board can overrule the Headmaster and dismiss a teacher. If we tell them what he did, then –"

"The word of a student against a teacher will convince them, hmmm?" Hermione shrank. "You have proven intelligence, Miss Granger, so please make use of it. Without the Headmaster's support the Board will not believe the word of a schoolgirl over a Professor. It may convince a few, but without proof … ?"

Severus left it up to the girl's mind to provide the details.

"But … we have to do something!" Hermione cried. "I can't just let him get away with this!"

"There is nothing to do but wait."

Hermione huffed. "If you won't help me, I'll do it myself!"

Severus rose as the girl stomped away.

"Miss Granger!" he snapped. She whirled angrily. "You will leave this to me, do you understand? If you try and stop Quirrell yourself you will only end up in the same danger as Mr Potter. You will do nothing. Understood?"

Hermione squared her shoulders. "I won't let him near Harry!"

"He wouldn't dare," Severus sneered. "The Headmaster and I are watching him, and after the last game I made it clear that if anything happened to Mr Potter, I would know exactly who was responsible. He will not jeopardize his position as long as the Stone is here. Until he has the Stone, Potter is safe."

He could see her talented mind working through it. Finally, the girl gave a terse nod.

"But you're sure nothing will happen? And you'll keep teaching him those Defence spells, right"

"I will make sure Mr. Potter is equipped the best I can."