“I knew it,” Hermione gasped, “Snape — look.”
Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his
eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.
“He’s doing something — jinxing the broom,” said Hermione.
“What should we do?”
“Leave it to me.”
Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. 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.
Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where 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 onto the hem of Snape’s robes.
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A
sudden yelp told her she
had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back
along the row — Snape would never know what had happened.
It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.
“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 Snape,” Ron was explaining, “Hermione 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?”
Harry, Ron, and
Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on
the truth.
“I found out something about him,” he told Hagrid. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog
on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was 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.
“Now, don’t ask me anymore,” said Hagrid gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.”
“But Snape’s trying to
steal
it.”
“Rubbish,” said Hagrid again. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”
“So why did he just try and kill Harry?” cried Hermione.
The afternoon’s events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.
“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’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” said Hagrid hotly. “I don’ know why Harry’s
broom acted like that,
but Snape 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.