Quidditch

As time rolled over into November, the temperature began to steadily drop, turning the surrounding mountains an icy, dark gray and the surface of the lake a brilliant, chilled silver. Each morning brought with it a layer of frost that blanketed the grounds outside and Hagrid could often be seen defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field from an upstairs window, bundled up snuggly in a long moleskin overcoat, thick gray gloves made of rabbit hide, and enormous beaverskin boots. 

 

The Quidditch season had officially begun. Harry and Cheyenne's first match was that Saturday, something they'd been anxiously looking forward to over the last few weeks of training. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin; if Gryffindor won this match, they'd be in second place for the house championship. 

 

Outside their house Quidditch team, hardly anyone had seen either Harry or Cheyenne play; it was Wood's idea, since the duo were supposed to be the team's secret weapons. Expectantly, though, the news that they were playing Seeker and Helper had leaked out somehow, which made the wait all the more difficult. For as many people that told the pair they were going to be brilliant, there was an equal number that said they'd be running around underneath them holding a mattress, just in case. 

 

On the bright side, having Hermione join their friend group turned out to be a great blessing; with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do, she had become a big help when it came to their schoolwork. She'd even been kind enough to lend them her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, too, which turned out to be an interesting read. 

 

According to the book, there were seven hundred different ways to commit a Quidditch foul, all of which had occurred in a single game: the World Cup match of 1473; out of all the players on the team, Seekers were often the smallest and fastest, with Helpers coming in a close second, although they were both the players who received the most sever of injuries. And apparently, though people rarely died playing Quidditch, it wasn't uncommon for referees to vanish and then turn up months later in the Sahara Desert. 

 

Since the night Harry, Ron, and Cheyenne had saved her from the mountain troll, Hermione had relaxed a bit when it came to rule breaking and was even kinder about it. The day before Harry and Cheyenne's Quidditch match, in fact, she was the one who conjured up a small, bright blue fire for the four of them to sit around in the courtyard during their break. They were standing with their backs to the jam jar that contained the flames, enjoying its warmth when Snape suddenly appeared. Harry frowned, nudging Cheyenne and pointing out how Snape was limping while they drew closer to Ron and Hermione to block the fire from view. Something in their facial expressions much have caught Snape's attention, however, as he changed direction and limped toward them, scowling unpleasantly. Fortunately, he hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for an excuse to tell them off, anyway. 

 

"What've you got there, Potter?" He eyed the book Harry held to his chest; Harry glanced down and exchanged an apprehensive look with Cheyenne before showing their professor it was the book Hermione had lent them. 

 

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school walls." Snape told them. "That will be five points from Gryffindor; hand it over." 

 

"That isn't a rule..." Cheyenne frowned after Snape as he limped away, her brows furrowed. 

 

"He probably just made it up." Harry growled under his breath, "What do you reckon's wrong with his leg?" 

 

"Dunno, but I hope it's bothering him." Ron grumbled bitterly. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

 

It was crowded and noisy in the Gryffindor common room that evening as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Cheyenne sat around a table by the window. Hermione and Cheyenne were helping Harry and Ron go over their Charms' homework, making little corrections when necessary. Even before Hermione had joined their group, Cheyenne hadn't been one for letting the boys' copy since they wouldn't have learned the lesson properly that way, but by reading through their homework, they were able to get the right answers anyway. 

 

Harry was restless, constantly getting up to pace back and forth between his chair and the window; Cheyenne peered up at him over her reading glasses, understanding his agitation. Snape hadn't just confiscated an interesting book, he'd take away what had been keeping Harry's nerves in check. Tomorrow's Quidditch match was nerve-wracking enough without the added stress Snape had piled on by unjustly taking what wasn't even theirs' in the first place. 

 

(Maybe I could talk Snape into giving it back.) Cheyenne tucked her glasses into a pocket of her robes and got up, setting her Charms book aside, (Anything would be better than watching Harry pace around like a caged animal.) 

 

"I think I'm going to go look for Snape." She told the others; Harry stopped his pacing while Ron and Hermione looked up, "It can't hurt to try and talk to him." 

 

"I'll come with you." Harry gave her a grateful smile while Hermione and Ron exchanged a look. 

 

"Better you than us." They said together, watching as Cheyenne took Harry's hand and led the way out of the common room with the promise they'd be right back. 

 

"Snape might be harsh when he's alone, but it could be easier to convince him to return the book if there are other teachers within earshot." Cheyenne pointed out, "Our best bet would be to start at the staff room." 

 

"Let's hope he's in there and not his office." Harry murmured as they approached the staffroom; they paused in front of the thick wooden door, and each raised a hand to knock. No one answered. Harry and Cheyenne exchanged a look before trying again. Nothing. 

 

"You think he could've left the book in there?" Harry whispered, turning to Cheyenne again; she frowned, unsure. 

 

"What teacher would leave a confiscated book laying around?" 

 

"Worth a shot, ain't it?" 

 

"Harry, I don't think -" Cheyenne started to protest when Harry reached out to try the door; it swung inward, just enough for the duo to peer into the room beyond, though the scene they stumbled upon made them instantly wish they hadn't. 

 

Seated in one of the plush chairs against the far wall was Snape, his robes pulled back above his knees, revealing the bloody, mangled mess that was his leg. Filch stood across from him, grimacing as he handed Snape bandages. 

 

"Blasted thing," Snape huffed as he wrapped the wound, "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" 

 

"We should leave." Cheyenne whispered urgently, pushing Harry back from the door, "Now." 

 

Harry started to nod when Snape's head snapped up in their direction; fury flushed his usually pale cheeks, his lips twisting into an ugly grimace and eyes flashing menacingly as he quickly dropped his robes to hide his injuries. 

 

"POTTER! POWER!" 

 

Cheyenne winced, grabbing Harry's hand as he nervously cleared his throat. 

 

"W-we just...wanted our book back." 

 

"GET OUT! OUT!" 

 

Neither Harry nor Cheyenne had to be told twice as they booked it down the corridor before their professor had the chance to take any more points from Gryffindor. They didn't stop until they got back to the common room. 

 

"Did you get it?" Ron asked when they resumed their seats; when they didn't answer straight away, he glanced up from his homework, taking note of the perturbed looks on their faces, "What's the matter?" 

 

In hushed tones, they told their friends what they'd seen. 

 

"You know what this means, don't you?" Harry finishes breathlessly, "It means he tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween! That's where he was going when Ron and I saw him -" He indicated to the redhead and himself as Hermione and Cheyenne looked at one another, "Snape's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he was the one who let that troll in, to divert attention!" 

 

Hermione shook her head, trying to sort through her muddled thoughts, "No, he wouldn't." She frowned, looking between the two boys, "Look, I know he isn't the best teacher here, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe." 

 

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," Ron growled, "I'm with Harry on this one, I wouldn't put anything past Snape." 

 

"I don't know about that, I kinda have to agree with Hermione," Cheyenne frowned, "There isn't enough evidence to suggest Snape was trying to steal what that dog's guarding aside from what it did to his leg. If he was, why would he have talked so openly about it with Filch, another member of staff loyal to Dumbledore? Who's to say he isn't helping protect whatever it is the dog is guarding?" 

 

Ron gave Cheyenne an incredulous look, as though he couldn't believe she and Hermione were actually defending Snape while Harry lapsed into a thoughtful silence. He would spend the rest of their evening mulling over everything that had happened and carrying these thoughts up to bed when the quartet finally decided to retire for the night. Cheyenne herself would spend most of that night thinking things over, too, considering all the possibilities of what happened and why until she fell into an uneasy sleep just after midnight. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

 

The next morning was beautiful, the azure sky overhead cloudless and bright while the winter sun rode low along the horizon. The delicious scent of fried sausage wafted out from the Great Hall, beckoning students and staff inside with the promise of a warm, filling breakfast as they chattered cheerfully about the match. 

 

"You both need to eat something," Hermione said, watching Cheyenne pick absentmindedly at her eggs while Harry could only look on blankly. 

 

"We're not really hungry, Hermione..." Cheyenne sighed, resting her chin in her palm; her stomach felt so knotted up she was afraid anything she tried to eat would only come back up. 

 

"Just a bit of toast wouldn't hurt..." Hermione coaxed. Harry sighed. 

 

"Not right now..." He glanced down at the table, feeling just as anxious and on edge as Cheyenne. Even just the thought of food was making him nauseous. How could they possibly be expected to eat when they were just an hour away from walking out onto the Quidditch field? 

 

"You'll both need your strength." Seamus Finnigan piped up as he grabbed the ketchup, "Seekers and Helpers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team, you know." 

 

"Thanks, Seamus..." Harry frowned as Cheyenne finally dropped her fork and shoved her plate away, feeling like she couldn't look at the food anymore. 

 

The whole school seemed to be packed into the stands by the time eleven o'clock came around. Many had binoculars for a better look at the action; even with the stands built so high, it wasn't always easy to see what was going on. 

 

Ron and Hermione were joined by Neville, Seamus, and Dean in the top row. As a surprise for Harry and Cheyenne, they'd used the sheets Scabbers had ruined to make up a large banner, which read Powter for President! over a large Gryffindor lion Dean had drawn. As an added feature, Hermione had charmed the paint to flash a variety of different colors. 

 

In the locker room, Harry and Cheyenne were changing into their new scarlet Quidditch robes with the rest of the team. Slytherin would be playing in green. 

 

Once everyone was changed and geared up, Wood cleared his throat. 

 

"Okay, men." He began. 

 

"And women," Chaser Angelina Johnson added. 

 

"And women," Wood agreed with a smile, "This is it." 

 

"The big one." Fred said dramatically. 

 

"The one we've all been waiting for," George continued. 

 

"We know Oliver's speech by heart now," Fred leaned over to stage whisper to Cheyenne, "We were on the team last year." 

 

"Shut up, you two," Wood scowled. "This is the best team Gryffindor has had in years. We're going to win, I just know it." 

 

He glared around at the rest of the team with a look that said all too clearly, "Or else." 

 

"Right, it's time. Good luck, everyone." 

 

Harry and Cheyenne each took a deep breath as they picked up their broomsticks and followed Fred and George out of the locker room. Doing their best to ignore the way their legs had turned to jelly, the duo squinted in the bright sunlight as they walked out onto the field. The stands exploded into cheers around them. 

 

Madam Hooch, who would be refereeing, was waiting for them in the middle of the field, her broom in one hand. 

 

"Now, I want a nice clean game. From all of you," she said once they'd reached her. While it appeared she was speaking to both teams, Harry and Cheyenne couldn't help but notice her gaze lingered on the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, who was a sixth year. Flint was rather broad and dim looking, and Cheyenne was almost ashamed to wonder if he had any troll blood somewhere in his family line. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, pulling her from her thoughts as she looked to her left, a smile crossing her lips when she spotted the banner fluttering high in the stands, flashing Powter for President! over the crowd. Harry caught her eye and the two exchanged invigorated smiles. 

 

"Mount your brooms, please." 

 

Nodding together, Harry and Cheyenne swung their legs over their Nimbus Two Thousands. 

 

Madam Hooch gave a single, loud blast on her silver whistle. 

 

Sixteen brooms rose high into the air. They were off. 

 

"And Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor takes immediate possession of the Quaffle – what a daring move by such an excellent and attractive Chaser -" 

 

"JORDAN!" 

 

"Sorry, Professor." 

 

Commentary for the game was being covered by the Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, who was under the watchful eye of Professor McGonagall. Cheyenne had to hide an amused smile at his antics as she helped Harry search for the Snitch. 

 

"And there she goes, she's really belting along up there, with a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, excellent find by Oliver Wood when last year she was only a reserve – now back to Johnson and – oh, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, now in possession by Captain Marcus Flint and he's off – Flint's flying like an eagle up there – he's going to sco – nope, stopped at the last second by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood – Gryffindor in possession – passes it to Chaser Katie Bell after a nice dive around Flint – she's off up the field and - ooooh, OUCH – that must have hurt, taking a Bludger to the back of the head like that – Slytherin takes the Quaffle – Adrian Pucey speeds off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by the second Bludger – courtesy of Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – either way, nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, and Johnson's got the Quaffle again, with a clear field ahead and off she goes – wow, she's really flying – she dodges a speeding Bludger – the goal posts are within reach – c'mon now Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives and – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!" 

 

An uproar of cheers filled the stadium as students stomped their feet and the Slytherins let out a chorus of howls and moans of displeasure. 

 

"Budge up there, move along." 

 

"Hagrid!" 

 

Ron and Hermione had to squeeze together to give Hagrid enough room to join them. 

 

"Bin watchin' the match from me hut," Hagrid said as he sat down, patting the large pair of binoculars hanging from his neck, "Wasn't the same as bein' in the crowd, though. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?" 

 

"Nope," Ron shook his head, "Harry hasn't had much to do yet." 

 

"Looks like Chey's been keeping the Slytherin Keeper busy, though, to give Harry room to look," Hermione pointed to where Cheyenne was flitting around the field across from them, as though she was chasing something, while the Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs, hovered nearby, just close enough to watch. 

 

"Least she knows how to redirect attention," Hagrid chuckled as he raised his binoculars, searching out which of the other players was Harry, "Keeps Harry outta trouble, though, so that's somethin'." 

 

Cheyenne pulled her broom to a stop near the Gryffindor goal posts to sweep her gaze along the field, keeping herself busy so she wouldn't look up to where Harry flew high above the game. She could still feel Higgs hovering nearby, watching her every move for a sign of the Snitch. At least he was falling into Wood's trap. 

 

Wood had wanted Harry to keep out of the way of the game until he caught sight of the Snitch while Cheyenne kept Higgs' attention. Helpers weren't the ones meant to catch the Snitch, but they were in place to help their Seekers find it and were often the ones to point them in the right direction. Higgs probably thought if she saw it first, he would be able to catch the Snitch before she could report back to Harry. 

 

Cheyenne herself had stayed off to the side while the Chasers did their thing, only moving to search after Angelina had scored. If she'd started feigning straight away, Higgs might've figured out the ruse and went to tail Harry instead. Cheyenne had to be careful when keeping Higgs attention; if she did too little or too much, he would know something was amiss. Just so long as she kept his preoccupied, Harry should catch the Snitch with little trouble. 

 

"Doing okay, Power?" Wood called as he circled the goal posts; Cheyenne flashed him a smile. 

 

"Yeah, but I'd be watching out for Pucey, Wood." She called back as the Slytherin Chaser dodged around Katie, gathering speed as he approached the goal posts. 

 

"Wait a moment - " Lee Jordan leapt from his seat, breathless, "Was that the Snitch?" 

 

A murmur rippled through the crowd as Cheyenne's heart leapt into her throat, her eyes flitting about the field before settling on Pucey. He'd pulled his broom to an abrupt halt as he looked over his shoulder, just in time to catch the flash of gold that had whizzed past his left ear as he dropped the Quaffle. 

 

Something black and green streaked past Cheyenne before she could react, her breath hitching as Higgs took off after the Snitch, but Harry nosedived, catching up with the Slytherin Seeker within seconds. They were neck and neck – the whole game had come to a standstill to watch. They were too close for Cheyenne to be of any help, so there was nothing she could do but watch from afar with the rest of the school. 

 

"C'mon Harry..." She whispered, her hands tightening on the handle of her broom as Harry raced Higgs around the outer perimeter of the field. Harry was gaining speed now, pulling ahead inch by inch; Cheyenne's heart beat against her vocal cords as Harry leaned in close to his broom, putting on an extra burst of speed – he thrust out his right hand - 

 

It happened in a flash – Marcus Flint was suddenly there, blocking Harry's path. Harry, to avoid a collision, yanked his broom sideways, which sent him spinning off course, leaving him with little to do aside from hang on for dear life. 

 

An outcry of foul rose from the Gryffindor side of the stands as Cheyenne streaked across the field to help, circling Harry until he could regain control of his broom and she could check him over. Madam Hooch told Flint off for what he'd done and awarded the Gryffindor team a free shot at the goal posts. Unfortunately, amid the chaos, the Snitch had disappeared once more. 

 

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling for Flint to get a red card. 

 

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Ron furrowed his brows. 

 

"Red card!" Dean said, furious, "In soccer, a player who receives a red card is taken out of the game." 

 

"But this isn't soccer." Ron pointed out. 

 

Hagrid, however, was wholeheartedly on Dean's side. 

 

"They oughta change the rules." Hagrid growled, "Flint coulda knocked Harry right outta the air." 

 

Lee Jordan, meanwhile, was finding it difficult not to take sides over the whole ordeal. 

 

"So - after that obviously disgusting move -" 

 

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled. 

 

"I mean, after that openly revolting cheat - " 

 

"Jordan, I'm warning you -" 

 

"All right, all right. After Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, a penalty is rewarded to Gryffindor; taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, we can continue our game. Gryffindor is in possession again." 

 

"I'm fine, Chey, really." Harry reassured Cheyenne as one of the Bludgers pelted past them, just missing his head. Cheyenne frowned, but relented, and glanced down at the game from where Harry had been watching earlier. Higgs hovered not far below, watching them like a hawk. The game continued as though nothing had happened. 

 

"Looks like everything's back to normal, but Higgs'll be watching a lot closer than he was before..." She tucked a stray strand of hair back into her ponytail, "Should we just go back to what we were doing before the Snitch was spotted or come up with a backup?" She paused to think about it, wondering if Higgs would stick closer to Harry now that he knew following Cheyenne had been a diversion. They hadn't thought of a plan B if their original strategy failed... 

 

"Harry?" Cheyenne asked without taking her eyes off the game, watching as Slytherin took the Quaffle; Flint was in possession, darting around Alicia and Katie. When Harry didn't answer, Cheyenne finally turned, "Har -" 

 

A blur of scarlet and black was all she saw before something warm, but solid collided with her, pitching her sideways off her broom; her body somersaulted through the air, briefly turning the world topsy turvy before righting itself back to what it should be. Some deep, instinctive part of her, seeming to realize what was happening before it had even fully registered in her mind, shot her arm out to grab at anything that could save her; her fingers closed around the handle of her broom and she clutched at it for dear life, staring down at the field far below with wide eyes. 

 

"Cheyenne!" The horrified voice made the young woman lift her head to meet her best friend's equally wide green eyes, "Chey, are you okay?" 

 

"Y-yeah, I-I'm fine." Cheyenne panted, suddenly breathless as she tried to reorientate herself, "What hap -" 

 

Her broom gave a sudden, violet jerk that threatened to dislodge her completely. Cheyenne's eyes left Harry's apologetic gaze and dropped to her broom, her grip tightening instinctively; when they'd collided, Cheyenne's broom had rolled to the side until the stirrups underneath, now tangled with the ones on Harry's broom, were pointing up. As she watched, Harry's broom jerked and zigzagged violently through the air, pulling her and hers along with it. 

 

"What's happening?" She breathed, trying to grab her broom with her free hand while it was dragged around with his. 

 

"I-I don't know! It just started jerking like some kind of bull at the rodeo!" Harry said helplessly, tightening his hands and knees around the broom handle, wishing more than anything he could help her. If he didn't do something soon, she was going to get hurt or worse! 

 

The sounds of the Slytherins' cheers floated up from the stands below. Few had seemed to notice that Harry's broom was acting strangely as it slowly carried him and Cheyenne higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching the entire way. 

 

"What are Harry and Cheyenne doing?" Hagrid mumbled, watching through his binoculars. "Looks like they're stuck together...if I didn't know better, I'd say onea 'em have lost control of their broom...but they couldn't've." 

 

A sudden scream from overhead brought the game to a screeching halt; people all over the stands were on their feet, pointing skyward. Harry's broom had started to roll now, whipping Cheyenne round like a ragdoll while Harry clung on for dear life. Then, with a great jerk, Harry was bucked clean off; he grabbed his broom handle with one hand, the momentum swinging him in a downward arch to smack face-first into Cheyenne. His glasses cracked on impact, the pain of bone hitting bone turning Cheyenne's vision white; a gasp rose from the crowd as her fingers slipped from her broom - 

 

"CHEY!" Harry caught her in his free hand; another gasp tore from her throat as her fingers closed back around his wrist, blurry eyes meeting his again. As Harry stared down into her terrified face, blood pooled under her nose, trickling down her chin. 

 

"Did something happen to Harry's broom when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered, wide-eyed. 

 

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking, "Nuthin' can interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic – no way a kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand." 

 

Something about this struck a chord in Hermione, who seized Hagrid's binoculars and frantically searched the crowd. 

 

"What are you doing?" Ron moaned, ashen faced. 

 

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, offering the binoculars to Ron, "Snape, look over there!" 

 

Ron took the binoculars from her and immediately spotted their Potions' master, who was seated in the stands directly across from them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and Cheyenne and was muttering nonstop under his breath. 

 

"What should we do?" 

 

"Leave it to me." 

 

Hermione had disappeared before Ron had the chance to answer. He frowned and lifted the binoculars back to where Harry and Cheyenne dangled in midair. Harry's broom had started to vibrate, hard, at this point, making it almost impossible for either of them to hang on. The whole crowd was on its' feet now, watching with bated breath as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull the two safely onto their brooms, but they couldn't get within five feet as Harry's broom continued to jump higher still. The twins eventually dropped lower to circle beneath them in hopes of catching them if they fell. Marcus Flint, meanwhile, had seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing. 

 

"H-Harry, I don't know how much longer I can hold on!" Cheyenne gasped, feeling the broom's vibrations in Harry's fingertips, which, combined with the sweat she could feel on her forehead and palm, was making it difficult to keep a grip on each other. 

 

"Please...please Chey, you have to..." Harry looked desperately into her eyes, begging her to hold on just a little longer, even she started to lose her grip. He tightened his fingers around hers, his heart sinking the further away she slipped. 

 

"Come on, Hermione." Ron whispered pleadingly. 

 

Hermione, meanwhile, fought her way across to where Snape stood and raced along the row behind him. So focused on her target, she didn't even seem to notice when she accidentally knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front of him. When she reached Snape, she checked to make sure no one was watching and pulled out her wand as she crouched behind him. Whispering a few well-chosen words under her breath, she pointed her wand at the hem of Snape's robes, which were instantly engulfed in bright blue flame. 

 

The sudden, terrified yelp the flames drew from the man's mouth were drowned out by a combination of the scream that came from above and the horrified gasp of the crowd. Hermione hurriedly scooped the fire off Snape and into a little jar in her pocket before she shot to her feet, helpless to watch with the rest of the crowd as Cheyenne fell. She'd been able to stop Snape jinxing the broom, just seconds too late. Harry was able to clamber back onto his broom. Just below, Fred broke from George and rose to catch Cheyenne midair, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief as she landed in his outstretched arms. 

 

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said breathlessly, pulling Neville from where he'd been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes. 

 

"You all right there, Cheyenne?" Fred smiled down at her as he steadied his broom, holding the young woman close to his chest. Cheyenne exhaled as she slowly opened her eyes and lifted her head from his shoulder, as though she needed to be sure she was in one piece before she could bring herself to meet his gaze. He watched in amusement as her cheeks flushed a cute pink, which pulled a soft chuckle from his throat as his earlier anxiety melted away. 

 

"I-I'm fine, I – um," She glanced away shyly, trying to gather her thoughts, "Th-thank you...for s-s-saving m-me." 

 

"Heh, it's no problem." Fred rubbed her back, "Are you sure you're okay?" 

 

Cheyenne nodded, still unable to meet his gaze, "Y-yeah, I-I just -" Realization dawned on her face, and she sat upright, eyes shooting up to where she'd just been dangling before she started to frantically search the field, "Where's Harry?!" 

 

Fred began to look around, too, and they soon spotted their Seeker as he hit the ground just below, his hand clamped around his mouth as though he was about to be sick. Cheyenne began to tug at Fred's sleeve to tell him to take her down there when Harry gave a great, shuddering cough, expelling something small and gold into his palm. 

 

"Is that the...?" Fred squinted his eyes. 

 

"It is, it's the Snitch!" Cheyenne's face split into a brilliant smile as Harry rose to his feet, thrusting the fist holding the Snitch high into the air for the whole school to see. "HARRY HAS THE SNITCH!" Cheyenne shrieked, throwing her arms around Fred in a celebratory hug as Madam Hooch, although now thoroughly confused by this turn of events, ended the game, announcing Gryffindor as the winner. 

 

"It doesn't count if he almost swallowed it!" Flint continued to howl twenty minutes after the game had been called, scowling angrily as Fred brought Cheyenne down to hug her best friend. His words meant nothing, though – Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the end results – Gryffindor had won, leading by a hundred and seventy points to sixty. Neither Harry nor Cheyenne heard any of this, though, too concerned with making sure the other was okay to really pay attention to much else while Hagrid ushered them, Ron, and Hermione to his hut for a strong cup of tea after what they'd been through. 

 

"It was Snape," Ron explained as Harry gently wiped the blood from under Cheyenne's nose, which was, thankfully, not broken, and she fixed his glasses, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing Harry's broomstick, muttering. He wouldn't take his eyes off either of you." 

 

"Rubbish." Hagrid disagreed, obviously having not heard a word of their earlier conversation, "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?" 

 

Harry and Cheyenne exchanged a look before looking at Ron and Hermione, who were frowning, wondering if they should tell Hagrid what was going on. The look Harry and Cheyenne shared said it would be best to just tell him the truth. 

 

"We found out something about him, Chey and I." Harry told Hagrid, "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween...we know because it bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it was guarding." 

 

Hagrid's teapot shattered on the stone floor. 

 

"How do you know about Fluffy?" He asked, incredulous 

 

"Fluffy?" Harry glanced at Cheyenne with raised eyebrows as she shrugged, confused. 

 

"Yeah - he's my dog – I bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – Dumbledore asked to borrow him to guard the -" 

 

"Yes?" Cheyenne leaned forward eagerly. Hagrid immediately clammed up. 

 

"Nonea ya ask me anymore," Hagrid gruffed, "That's top secret, it is." 

 

"But Hagrid, Snape's trying to steal it." 

 

"Rubbish." Hagrid shook his head in disbelief, "Snape is a Hogwarts teacher, he would do nothin' of the sort." 

 

"Then why did he just try to kill Harry and Cheyenne?" Hermione asked furiously. 

 

"She's right, Hagrid, what happened to Harry's broom was an obvious jinx if ever there was one. She and I have read about them and if what she and Ron said is true, then it was definitely Snape." Cheyenne agreed, nodding solemnly. 

 

The afternoon's events had obviously seemed to change both Cheyenne and Hermione's minds about Snape. 

 

"It was! You must keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking! I saw him!" Hermione cried. 

 

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid argued hotly, "I dunno why Harry's broom acted like that today, but Snape wouldn't try an' kill one student, let alone two! Now, you four listen to me – yeh're all meddlin' in things that don't concern anya yeh. It's dangerous." He gave the quartet a hard look, "You jus' forget about that dog an' what it might be guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel -" 

 

"Aha!" Harry thumped the table, triumphant, "so there's someone named Nicolas Flamel involved in this, is there?" 

 

Hagrid flushed red, looking furious with himself.